She's self-destructive. He's crazy—crazy enough to save her from herself. If any woman ever needed a hero, I guess it would have to be me. My ideal hero would be a man who would take it upon himself to rescue me, even if I fought his gallantry every step of the way. I wish I could tell you that this is a story with a happy ending. I wish I could tell you that this is like so many other stories I have seen and read where there is a wonderful reunion for mother and daughter, but I can’t. The simple fact of the matter is that my birth mother never wanted me. From the moment I left her womb, until the day of her death, she made sure I knew that she wished I had never been born. Though I still can’t wrap my brain around how it’s possible that some women never bond with their children, I have finally accepted that my mother is one of those without the ability. Somewhere, in the midst of coming to grips with her hatred of me, I have become angry. I suppose he had no choice but to take me against my will due to my obstinacy. I have no regrets for the life I have been granted and I carry no resentment. After all, it brought me to him. I'm certain that many would question the way he has chosen to 'rescue' me. Knowing him the way I do, I’m sure he feels the end justifies the means. This is our story. It's the story of a man who took me against my will. It’s the story of a man who saved me.