Argumentative Essay On Carnations

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On Adam’s bedside nightstand, there is a vase of blooming carnations. But the scent isn’t sweet like summer; just foul, upsetting, pathetic. The whole room smells of the gross hospital air; a mix of germs and pity and weakness. There’s a cup filled with stale tap water, and it stands beside a dusty box of Kleenex, as thin and starchy as tissue paper. The last time I was met by such a foul scene was when Mother was in the hospital with cancer. Such a weak being; she couldn’t fend for herself. She made me come in to help her, even though she should’ve been helping me. She told me I needed to solve my problems too, but she never cared to assist me me.
I eye Adam up and down, his lifeless body oozing with gashes and covered in shadowed …show more content…

I smack the carnations off Adam’s bedside table, and the murky water from the vase splashes on my legs, making them smell like compost and dirt, just like Caliena. With my free hand, I crush the flowers in a fist so small that my polished nails are digging into my skin. I stomp into the bathroom, my shoes gouging into the ground. I slam the door shut, closing it so hard the sanitizer dispenser falls off the wall. The pouch of chemicals breaks open, and an ambush of bleach and disinfectant floods the tiny …show more content…

She seems deep in thought, but I doubt she’s contemplating her wrong doings. It’s too bad she couldn’t figure out her mistakes on her own; it’s too bad I have to help her.
It’s time to get rid of the trash. I pull my stilettos off my feet, and the clasp around my ankles breaks from the force of my hand. Faster than I’ve ever ran before, I sprint over to Caliena, my feet pounding into the freezing hospital tile. I stick the heel into the back of her neck, pushing it so deep that blood pours from her veins, and she gasps for air. Caliena chokes on her saliva, chokes on her words, and chokes on her idiotic choices, like deciding to write a silly, insane, letter. But this still isn’t enough. With both my hands, stained from Caliena’s poison blood, I push her down 2 flights of stairs, where she tumbles over and over herself, bumping into the railings and the walls. I find myself laughing hysterically at Caliena, and how clumsy she is. Her obese body curls into awkward positions, and the stiletto is still lodged in her neck. I race down the stairs, wanting to see all the pain Caliena has to endure. But this still isn’t

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