“You will have to identify them.”
“But I am blind and cannot see to identify them!” I answered. At night I had recurring dreams where I hunted my attackers endlessly. Revenge became the focus of my tortured existence.
Every moment of my terrible life was devoted to an insatiable hunt for revenge. I found them. I turned tensely to look at them. They turned around to look at me. Each, in his turn, slowly smiled with an evil grin on his face, with a knife gripped tightly in his hand. Their weapons were positioned specifically for my throat and my heart.
In the shadows they grabbed me, made me lie down, tied me up and poured more acid into my eyes. As I lay helplessly, I mentally saw them, their hands pulled back, ready to kill me. Ready to slit my throat, with an evil wide grin of pleasure upon their faces, I saw myself about to become slaughtered like a hog in a mud pen, and it was terrifying. They said that they were doing this just to make sure I was dead this time. The blood trapped in my head by the suffocating knife pressing against my throat burst into my congested eyeballs and blinded me. There was no courage, no peace, no holiness, but I understood the fear of pain and the fear of death.
Although I tried to forget the terrible fears of my nightly nightmares, the panic that accompanied my waking up to escape from them, turned to reality when I perceived that I was a living victim–I have survived acid attack to my face. I was relieved to be alive after the terrible nightmares night after night. On one hand I saw myself as a brave and courageous woman, but on the other hand I saw myself as an angry coward; a fear-ridden woman, fear-sick woman. They were still alive and free, and in their hands was my wrecked life. I had no love or gratitude.
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Carol Guscott 