Writing From Life - Original Writing Essay

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Writing From Life - Original Writing

I couldn’t even look her in the eye. Not after what I’d done. What
she’d done.

Being part of a big family was difficult, but you always had someone
to talk to, but not this time. I was generally closest to Rabia. She
was two years younger than me, and to her, everything was simple and
had a simple answer. I think that’s why we were so close. She was
always great if you had a problem, or needed help. She was also fun to
be with, making up games that people would normally call childish, but
because she made them up, they were ‘cool’. It was because everyone
saw her as cool. She always got the best grades, and she had this
really sweet, persuasive smile. Her hair was cut into a short bob, and
she was what most would define as a tomboy; but those of us who
properly knew her, knew better. She spent an age making sure her hair
was covered with Herbal Essences conditioner when she washed it, and
although she was only thirteen, she put on make-up to create that
‘it-took-me-no-time-at-all-to-get-ready’ look.

Despite of her teenage antics, she was still the baby, my mother’s
baby, but she acted the most adult. Of course she still played
children’s games, but she was very levelheaded, and never petty. On
the other hand, she was the ‘sweet and innocent baby’ who could get
away with anything. If we were on good terms with each other, it would
benefit me. If not, I would feel the wrath of the beast. Don’t get me
wrong, it’s not that my mother’s not nice; it’s just that she’s
naturally a tense person. You can see when she’s about to blow. About
twenty minutes before she does, she purses her lips, and tal...

... middle of paper ...

...osed to shout. There were four of us in the room, and yet it felt
so empty.

“I’m going for a drive. Make yourselves dinner,” she said in a tone I
couldn’t understand. It wasn’t normal and calm, but it wasn’t angry
either. I couldn’t decipher it.

As she left the room, we all just stood there, silent and motionless,
like the wretched creatures we were. I wanted to go over to Rabia in
her corner and pull her out of it to comfort and protect her, as I
knew Zaina would to me; but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do
anything, especially with Laila around. We had caused this trouble,
and yet Rabia and mum were paying for it. Who knew when mum would be
back? Would she even be back tonight? All because of Laila and I.

I couldn’t even look her in the eye. Not after what I’d done. What
she’d done. What we’d done.

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