All I can remember is exam day. I don't remember another man hopping on the back of the dyna, or busting in the bus, or asking who is malala.
I couldn't even hear the crack, crack, crack from the three bullets.
I was told I was safe when I woke up in the hospital. Thank God I was not died.
Is your head feeling ok?
How are You?
Are you feeling any pain?
The nurses had created a journal for me. I began writing in my pink diary everyday.
I had been the hospital at about sixteen days in the hospital. From having her skull removed, getting a tube through her throat, and getting half her head shaved, she finally made it home.
Malala continued getting education from her father even when the Taliban began bombing girl's schools. She went to interviews and spoke about the right for education. She stood up for a law no one believed would be uplifted. She send a message telling people they have the right to know about their society. If you cannot read or write your life will be a mystery and overrun by society.