“I know what it means to suffer,” he replied, his words no longer thick and slurred. “I used to be a victim. But I refused to accept my lot in life. I made myself strong.”
As he spoke, drops of blood from the gashes on his cheek fell from his chin and splashed to the floor.
“Those who are victims have no one to blame but themselves. They do not deserve pity; they are victims because of their own failures and weaknesses.”
“But it didn’t matter how strong you were!” Lucia said, suddenly jumping into the discussion. “Don’t you see that? You still ended up as a prisoner!”
“Had I been stronger I would not have been captured,” he countered, a fierce light burning in his eyes. “If I am not strong enough to escape, I will continue to suffer until I die. But if I am strong enough to escape …”