The survivor My story began where most stories end- with a car crash, an almost certain death. The highway connecting my city to his. A couple of hours drive that I took on a weekly basis. He was the light at the end of my tunnel, worth that 100km drive. I was late that day. I knew he would get mad, because I always used to complain when he made me wait. I had accelerated, and then nothing. I remember bits and pieces of that day. But I never spoke to him again. I had never cut any one out of my life before. But that crash was a wake up call, “enough” it screamed. I would never have put the breaks on us, but it happened. I get one life, I cannot waste it on someone who cares “almost” enough. I needed more. So I left him. No words because words would pull me back, no letters because letters would bring back memories, only silence because silence was the greatest weapon. He did not know about the accident. It took him two days to realise something was wrong. Two days of my coma...