Damon Salvatore Alex Hershman I tried to forget about her for years, but when she was standing there in front of me, how could I? Only it wasn’t Catherine. Her name was Elena, and she was in love with my brother, the only family I had left. He needed her more than I did. I accepted that Elena wasn’t Cathrine. Catherine wasn’t even Catherine. Not the one I used to know. Elena was a better version. A human version. But she didn’t like me. She couldn’t stand me. No one could. I was there to be the problem that everyone else tried to fix. As hard as I tried to not feel anything for Elena, it didn’t work. Stephan, my little brother, needed her. He isn’t like the rest of us. He can’t drink human blood. It’s kind of like an alcoholic, …show more content…
Elena was like his anchor, so how could I take that away from him? But I needed her too. How selfish of me you might think, but the truth is she wanted me too. I had the ability to make her forget every good thing that i’ve ever done and only remember the bad things. I did it for my brother. I loved her more than I thought was possible. My selfishness would start to show and I would let her remember. Remember the good things too, but I always screwed it up. Somehow, someway I was the monster. I would stop at nothing to protect her, even if that meant killing people, and she hated me for it. She couldn’t be with a monster like me. She wouldn’t do it, but if protecting her meant not getting her, then it was worth it. I didn’t deserve her anyway. She was good, pure. I’ve done terrible, terrible things. I can’t change either. I will always be selfish. I will always do things that benefit me and only me, no matter the consequences. I bring trouble everywhere I go. They would be better off without me. But how could
“Straining his eyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff. Then... everything went dark. Maggie woke up in her bed. “Finally woke up from that nightmare. Man… I miss my brother. Who was that person that my brother wanted to kill?” she looks at the clock and its 9:15am “Crap I’m late for work!” Maggie got in her car and drove to the hospital for work.
I am the wife of an innocent dead man. I raised three without a father. People see us as less. We are the Robinson, and me I’m Helen Robinson. Living in the deep south in the 1930’s wineries. The Depression affected most everyone in Maycomb except for us. All of the blacks in the county live in one area outside of the landfill. I lived on the edge of farm which grows acres of cotton every year. We were a poor family that sharecropped. There weren't many people in Maycomb who treated us kindly except for Mr. Link Deas and the Finches. One year the white trash family accused my Tom for a serious crime that he never did. For months we never saw him due to the polices never let blacks and women in. The Finches and neighbours came and helped during
Her mother had died after being hit by a reckless driver. Alice, a fifteen-year old, African-American girl, was now without her natural and most influential guide on how to cope with the powerful transition from girl to lady.
It was a bright and sunny June day. It was all calm at the jury house, Sheila was getting ready for her first case. It was about a person being murdered. Her witness, Mr. Leblanc, asked her if she can help him find his wife. She said that she can’t.
As the protagonist in the novel, Catherine is also the dynamic character because of the changes she undergoes too change her perspective and personality. Early in the book Catherine reveals herself as a stubborn character. This is inferred from the fact that her father attempts to force her into marriage with a suitor yet she refuses to do so. She continuously does whatever she can to get rid off the suitors that her father brings. For example, “I thought he spoke in some foreign tongue or cipher designed to conceal a secret message, but it seems only that his nose was plugged. And it stayed plugged throughout his entire visit, while he breathed and chewed and chattered through his open mouth. Corpus Bones! He troubled my stomach no little
Catherine, Catherine is who I am. I am a young American-Italian girl, that loves making people happy. Yet I get hurt easily, and can’t make decisions on my own. I lived with ma aunt (Beatrice) and ma uncle (Eddie). Sadly, Eddie died because he snitched to the immigration bureau on ma husband Rodolpho, but you will find out later exactly how he died. For now, all ya need to know it dat it wasn’t a smooth year.
Hola, Reyna and Alejandro are always happy to hear how you and your family are doing. Alejandro said that Nevlyn doesn't look like the little blond boy that would ride his bike up and down the street. We are all really sorry to hear about your friend Ellen. I hope those little boys find some "mom love" in you, like we did when we needed some extra cuddles. I'm happy to hear that you still use your Spanish a lot in and out of work. Nevertheless, I'm sure your Spanish has evolved into a Puerto Rican/Cuban accent.
Maudire les actions du diable ! After years of working my fingers to the bone, this is all I get! The three people I valued most have left me. Ellen- my dear wife- passed away. My son – the one I trusted to be there for my family, after my time– has gone. Also my doll, my Mattie, with her sweet smile, her resilience as strong as a bull…Très bien! Qu'est-ce que je vais faire? My land, and my shattered family are all I have. I feel nothing… except shame, fear, and sleepless yearning for my loved ones. What bothers me most is … they all left me. Life would be so much easier with Lawton pulling the cart, Mattie looking after the younger ones and my precious Ellen… just staying here with me. I've been double-crossed by MY family!
He ran his soft hands over my lower back and moved them down to caress my legs, this sending movement through my upper calves. Being so close to him was ticklish, yet pleasurable… Evolving me to wince at every touch. The pleasurable side almost always overcomes the tingling ticklish side of being in the arms of someone I cared about so much. Just the thought of him- the way his smile lit up his whole face, and how he only smiled that way around me. We spent a lot of time squandering about, but every moment afterwards left you wanting more. When I wasn’t with him, my mind traveled to him. The thought of being surprised that his feelings were mutual had always stuck out. All of his charisma, and quirkiness piled together to make him. Being himself,
(Suspense. SYNOPSIS: 60-year-old Anne Irwin is thankful that she still has an excellent memory, until a surgical procedure makes her look more like a curse.)
“If we leave tonight, Miss Martha will never notice us gone,” Margot explained. “Are you mad? She would call the policemen!” Lucy fearfully replied. “Nonsense.
Back From Venus They unlocked the door, even more slowly, and let Margot out. Margot walked past them, saying nothing. She stopped in front of the teacher, glanced up, then continued to stumble out of the building into the rain and it struck her, until the weight of her clothes dragged her down. She soon arrived home, drenched from head to toe. “Did you see the sun, Margot?
As the snow came down early one morning, the students piled into school. But today was different from any other morning, it was the first snowfall of the year, students were excited thinking that Christmas was coming and cookies, houses would be filled and lit up with happiness as you would drive past them. Some of the students would argue that Josephine a young girl should not receive anything for Christmas because she had been partying, drinking, and hurting all of her closest friends because of something they called her mistakes. As the days became closer together, she would receive dirty looks, people would call her nasty names, but what those people did not know is that she suffered from everytime she closed her eyes. She would have to
‘I have been noticing Mr Collins more and more of late’ thought Charlotte Lucas. ‘ Although not the most amiable gentleman, he seems to be in want of a wife, and in good speed. I know it seems silly and that Mr Collins would not so much as look my way, but at 27 years, I myself am becoming older and more and more out of my marriage span with each passing day. If I do not marry soon, I worry that I will become an unwanted, old maid. Should I be asked my hand, I would gladly and hastily accept the offer from any man, no matter how un-agreeable he appears’.
My dearest Isabelle, when you were born, I was thrilled, my very own daughter. Your hair, a bright gold and your eyes, such a clear, gorgeous blue. I had ambitions for you and me; I was going to teach you to be an independent woman who broke away from society’s norms. Every night from the day you were born I repeated my beloved phrase to you, “you will be strong, you will do anything you set your mind to, your future will be wonderful, you will be free!” Alas, your father never liked my ideas about your future, a women’s objective in life was to find a pleasant and wealthy husband.