They Were Right

I didn't always believe my parents when they said I was special. I always thought they said it because that's what parents do, or that I was going to be really good at something. I never expected it to be this. I thought someone else would get what I have and then I could live a normal life where I could have a boyfriend, graduate High School, go to college, and have a job.
But now my life is a job. I'm lucky to get a night off. My whole life since this happened has been a series of 'Why me?' But now that I'm sitting here in this room where I have a tiny window to see the world below, a hard bed where I don't even get a blanket, a small sink and toilet, and bars for a door; I realize why my parents said I was special. I realize why I'm in here for the rest of my life.
I now have a new reason to ask 'Why me?' and it's not for the reason you think. Why was I spared? Did they see some hope in me? Why me? I should be dead.
I banged my head against the bars of my prison cell as I remember the accident here just two months ago when I was first put in here. My life will be shorter than they had planned. When they find this place and what I had done, it will be too late and I will be dead. They will see how long I was in there. They will see what I had scratched into the wall.
What they will read is short so I will tell you:
The stories are true. Villains don't get a Happily Ever After.