He raped me. I cringe at the door slamming as he leaves, I hear his heavy footsteps going down the stairs. The clock struck 10:00 startling me and causing me to squeeze my arms tighter than before. I look around my room still processing what happened. Everything's in ruins, I shouldn't have put up such a fight, I shouldn't have made him angry, I know how my father gets. This is all my fault. The shame, the disgust, everything I’m feeling happened because of me. All at once I feel the anger towards him leave my body and seep into the back of my mind. My fists remember to relax, my hands loosen their grip on my upper arm . How can I blame the man when I'm the worthless one. Everything he said was true, I am a waste of space, I am disgusting, …show more content…
I didn't even want her knowing. It's embarrassing, I don't want to be looked at as some fragile being, I’m not, I'm strong. But yet I sit here and feel like I've been done wrong. I felt dirty and used. “I want to take a shower.” I got up and I walked past my mom and up the stairs, I saw my grandma sitting in the living room, I ignored her and just went straight to the shower. After my shower, I went got dressed and talked myself into going to the living room. I could feel the tension in the air, my mom sat smiling eyes red as ever, as for my grandma she sat there with the look of pity on her face. I felt like a freak show, like I was something everyone wanted to see. “Hey baby girl,” my mom said to me, motioning me to the seat next to her. I went over and layed my head on her lap. “What do you want for dinner?” Grandma asks. I didn't know how to feel they were trying to act like everything was normal but it wasn't, there was a huge elephant in the room. I was the elephant. “I'm not hungry.” I said. And silence fell over the room. The rest of the evening we sat in silence watching …show more content…
But I feel like it's a waste of time, she doesn't care. Its her job, all she's gonna do is label me as a mental case and then call it a day. On top of that what I do to my body is my choice. Not hers, not anyone's.
We finish up our appointment with worksheets asking me how I feel and how I cope, and all I can think is I can't wait to go home. When the appointment was over I went home and cried. Thinking about what happened, talking about how I actually feel felt like so much, but it helped. I am not one to discuss my feelings, i believe a truly strong person should be able to handle anything on there own. I can not though, I can't do this. I'm the weak little rape victim who cannot function in society. I have another appointment today, this time i signed myself in and took myself back. I begged my mom before we left the house and the whole way over to not make me go. Once again we started off with small talk then she laid a big question on me. “ Could you ever forgive your father” the question that truly made me think, could i ever forgive
I looked up at Gabriel from the grass. I never actually got to inspect the full extent of his features. His dark brown hair was tussled and looked as if he had been running his fingers through it from stress. His green eyes resembled emeralds. He had a bit of muscle on him, but he wasn’t too broad shouldered. You could see a small rose tattoo on his upper bicep. He wore a dark green t-shirt and jeans. He was definitely handsome, and all his features complimented each other.
car was old and coming to its end the engine grumbled as it came to a
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
There once was a man named Franswah, and he had a wife named Keisha. They both lived in Keithville, Atlanta. They had a little girl named Jasmine, she was twelve years of age and she attended Ghettoville Jr. High School in the seventh grade. Keisha never did like doing anything, so her husband Franswah decided to go out and have an affair with a lady named Shay. Franswah and Shay worked at a law firm together. Shay was his assistant, she always helped him with things and they always went to lunch together. So some nights he never came home or either he came in late. Keisha was never the type of person to just argue, she mainly just questioned him to see what the response would be and she left it alone until the next morning. So one night when he came in he had a funny odor and Keisha asked him what was up with the smell, he told her that he had been working out and got sweaty. Their daughter Jasmine had very high blood pressure, so most of the time she didn’t go to school because of her condition and she stayed ill. Keisha had a younger sister named Ashley, she is the rowdy type that doesn’t care and will tell anybody anything. Keisha was telling her sister about Franswah coming in late, having a odor on him and don’t want to be questioned. So one day when Ashley was over there and he walked in she confronted him and told him if she find out that’s its that he’s cheating on her she was gone handle it. So he got mad and started hollering at Keisha for telling her sister about what was going on in their relationship. Then that’s when Ashley came back and told him that she can tell her anything she want to tell her because that’s her sister. So few minutes later the phone rings and its was Shay. Keisha answers the phone and it was another lady’s voice, and she asked to speak to Franswah. So she asked her who is calling and she told her that it was Franswah’s baby mother. Everyone is in shock, so Ashley gets on the phone and started getting rowdy. Ashley was asking her different questions like how old is the baby, where she live, and where did Franswah and her meet.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
It was a eerily cold night. The storm ripped at the sailor's face. The wind and sea howled almost calling for a soul on the ship to join those already lost in the sea. the crew ran to and from tying cargo down. the ship tossed like a toy boat in a pond and passengers stuggled to stand as their vessel rocked back and forth.
Betrayal at Age Seven One incident in my life was so traumatic and disturbing that it haunts me to this day. I have not censored anything that I recall about this episode so reader discretion is advised. I have lived a very soap opera-like life. I have survived nearly every experience that is capable of destroying families. The main obstacle that I had to overcome, though, occurred when I was seven years old. I had come back from church with my aunt and uncle at about 11:00 p.m. Being tired, I brushed my teeth and went straight to bed. I woke up about two hours later and had to go to the bathroom. As I opened the door and started down the hall, I looked into the kitchen. To my surprise, I found my mother with her shirt unbuttoned and her breasts in a man’s mouth. It was even more traumatic to realize that the man who she was straddling was not my father. He was my uncle Jason, my father’s brother and best friend. This whole incident is blurred because I have tried to block it out of memory for such a long time now. I recall that I quietly turned around and went back to bed. I must have cried for hours that night, helplessly crying myself to sleep. My mother must have heard me because she came in to see what was the matter. I told her what I saw and asked her why, why she was doing that with my uncle. I’m not sure what she said, but I remember her telling me that it would never happen again. It was already too late--my childhood life was destroyed. My picture of the perfect American family was completely shattered. How does a seven year old boy handle such a situation? How does one respond to finding his father sleeping soundly in bed--probably having dreams of his wedding day—while...
After we walked for two hours we stopped and took a goodbye look at our beloved country. It was unbearable for Mansur to flee his homeland. He lagged behind walking slowly as if being lost in a deep thought. We waited him standing in the middle of the dusty road to find out the reason for him not to walk as quickly as we did. He walked closer to us and halted in the middle of the dusty path and said, “Guys, I want to skip this journey because I don’t think I can make it any further.
“You’re dad is like your Popi,” she added. “My dad is more like you. That’s probably where he gets his anger from, you.” My grandma had gotten so sick and tired of me. Everytime she is wrong, she makes others have pity on her, instead of accepting the fact that she is wrong.
I’ve hated my father for as long as I can remember. I began complaining in elementary school to my friends about him and seeing their shocked expressions unable to empathize with me (my elementary school in Greenwich Village, NYC). Throughout life I’ve complained about being nervous and unhappy to my teachers, my mom, my friends; even hiding in the nurse 's offices for days on end to keep me from school. It can all be traced back to my broken home. My mom kept secrets from my dad by throwing receipts into my drawers to hide spending, locking all of us in rooms to keep him from yelling and waking us (my sister and brother) up.
It was a cool December evening. She looked up at the sound of the train’s horn, chugging in the distance, signaling its arrival. The KN Express pulled up to her platform, the sun’s rays reflecting off it's still wet surface from the rains that had just passed a little while ago. She gave way for the alighting crowd before she hoisted herself up the stairs to her compartment. Pulling her little bag on wheels behind her, she found the train almost deserted.
Did I just… die? “Yes, I am afraid so,” said the lady sitting across from me. “And from what I am reading, a murder victim. Wow honey, I am so sorry.” What?
Although I wish that this never happened, I wish that I still had a father, I am grateful for the experience because it allowed me to assess and stretch my character, and it taught me
Yes it is my fault. Everything was great. Things could have been so good. Now its all ruined. It’s not, and if you actually, somehow think it is, you should talk to him irl and explain how you feel and what’s going on
“Honey? Do you remember the day when we first met?” it was at that moment that I knew that I was fucked. Why was she asking me this odd question and why now? Valerie and I have been together for almost two years now. It made no sense and quite frankly I was afraid of the type of creature that might have possessed this strange woman to ask me a question like this. “Uhh… shit yeah honey why you ask?” it was the only thing that my cautious brain allowed to flow out of my lips and I was praying under my breath hoping that she didn’t hear the hesitation in my voice.” No reason just wanted to make sure if you remember what I was wearing on the first day that we met.” I’m pretty sure the last thing she expected was for me to have a puzzled look on my face but there I was trying hard to dig into my old suppressed memories.