His name was Woodrow Heaven, but he was my hell. And, I was his gift. A present for his birthday from his unloving parents. I had no idea what that meant as a teenager. But I learned quickly. I learned that White Knights weren't real. I learned that no one came to save you when you cried for help or screamed through your pain. He scarred my face, my soul, my heart. I escaped with a stranger who had no intention of helping me, just hurting me. I thought I'd never see Woodrow again. I prayed for that to be true. I thought I'd live out my miserable existence in captivity I thought wrong. He came to claim what had always been his... He came for me. I hated him more than anything, but he was going to learn me to love him even more.