My mom wanted always to write her story and now, I give you these words mom because I know my story is your story, I’m sorry because I’m away from you, I’m sorry because I left you in an evil world I’m sorry I’m not beside you when you feel sick but god knows I suffered a lot and I needed an escape of that country I needed the courage to start all over again somewhere to be somebody who’s not abused, who’s not humiliated, somewhere to express who I am as an irreligious. I wanted always to be miss international or miss world but I’ve never thought that I’m goin to be a writer, someone who explain his pain and suffering on a paper, I wanted to study politics or economics but I never thought that I’m goin to be in a mental hospital where I eat medication for three months and I was thinking why I didn’t pursue a medical career while I can! It’s too late now, everything has an end and my end is not clear yet I flee Saudi Arabia having nothing but one thing I need to publish my story, at least I’ll have something to live on. I remember you mom giving me gold bracelet when I’m four years old visiting you in hospital after the car accident, here where it all begins. It’s dark I see nothing but a voice calling me give me your hand, it’s my father the car flipped and I was the only one left inside.