Chapter Zero: A Dream of Hope
For those who say life is unfair to us, life was never unfair. We give up on ourselves; that's why we opt for suicide. But life never gives up on us; that's why we are still alive. I learned this lesson through a series of 23 suicide attempts until one day, I wished for a dream—a dream that became a hope, a dream that kept me alive for nine years. Yes, my last attempt was when I was in sixth grade.
My name is Hannah Black. I am a British-Indian, the middle child with two brothers. My family never expected anything from me; they just made sure I was alive. They never remembered me on any occasion. To them, I was just someone who would leave this place eventually. But they did remember me when they were angry—they took out their anger on me. I didn't even have more than three Barbie dolls: one from a cousin, another from a friend, and the last one from my love, Pat.
Growing up in a household where I was invisible was hard. My older brother, Daniel, was the achiever, always making our parents proud with his academic and athletic accomplishments. My younger brother, Oliver, was the charming one, adored for his wit and charisma. And then there was me, the middle child, often overlooked and forgotten.
My parents were overwhelmed with their own issues. My mother worked tirelessly at a local diner, trying to make ends meet. My father, once a promising musician, drowned his sorrows in alcohol after his dreams failed to materialize. In the chaos of their lives, my existence was a mere afterthought.
School wasn't much better. I floated through my days unnoticed, a ghost in crowded hallways. Trust was a fragile thing, easily shattered by those I dared to let in. I had learned early on to guard my heart, each betrayal leaving another scar.
But amid the darkness, I found a glimmer of hope in my dream. From a young age, I was fascinated by the world of business and technology. My mind was a whirlwind of ideas and innovations, and I devoured books and articles on the subject with voracious hunger. This dream of becoming a renowned business tycoon and a genius in the field of artificial intelligence kept me going. It was the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.
In sixth grade, after my last suicide attempt, something changed within me. I realized that despite everything, I wanted to live. I wanted to see my dream come true. That realization became my anchor, the hope that kept me grounded.
As I grew older, I dedicated myself to my studies, particularly in business, technology, and artificial intelligence. I excelled in school, driven by the desire to escape my past and create a future where I was in control. My hard work paid off when I earned a scholarship to a prestigious university, where I studied business administration with a focus on AI.
During my university years, I met Patrick Williamson, or Pat as I called him. Pat was a brilliant and supportive friend of my older brother who saw me for who I truly was. He became my sanctuary in human form, always encouraging me to chase my dream. He gave me my third Barbie doll, a simple gesture that meant the world to me, symbolizing his unwavering belief in my potential.
After graduating, I threw myself into the business world with fervor. I started my own company, specializing in AI-driven solutions. The journey was fraught with challenges, but each obstacle only strengthened my resolve. I built my business from the ground up, turning it into a thriving enterprise that revolutionized industries with cutting-edge AI technologies.
Pat remained by my side through it all, his support and love unwavering. He was the first person who made me feel seen and valued for who I was, not for what I could be. Our bond grew stronger over the years, his presence a constant reminder that there was hope and love in a world that often felt cold and uncaring.