My son thought I was dead. So did his wife. I heard them say, ‘She

As the sound of their footsteps faded, a part of me wanted to cry out, to demand answers, to confront the betrayal by my own flesh and blood. But the instinct to survive was stronger. Still, motionless, I lay there, waiting—listening until silence wrapped around me like a shroud.

When I could no longer hear them, I forced myself to move. Each shift, each breath, was agony. But I was alive. I had to stay that way.

The descent down the ravine was disorienting and painful. My left arm hung useless, likely broken, and my head throbbed with each step. But the forest became my refuge, its canopy swallowing me into its depths, hiding me from the world above.