I could smell the vodka entering my lungs, surrounding my body in its evil presence. I held my knees close to my body, and rested my head upon a kneecap. The shattering glass echoed in the background, filling my ears with the calls from hell. Tears ran down the sides of my cheeks, as I tried to hold back from bawling. My whole body began to shake as the fighting between the two I loved grew louder and harsher. Bottles crashed against the walls and shattered into a million pieces on the cold tile floor. I felt as if my life was the glass bottle. Shattered into a million pieces, and never being able to put it back to what it once was. I closed my eyes and tried to fight the tears. It was like a battle to keep them from coming. A battle I knew I couldn’t win. I tried to cover my ears with my arms, while at the same time I held my knees close to my body. Thoughts rushed through my mind. Telling me I needed to stop this war between the two. A war that once in it, I wouldn’t be able to back out of it. Which meant taking some of the hits upon my body as well as my mothers. I could hear her scream and cry for help. The cries I knew that would go unanswered. I tried to block it all out and relax, but it was of no use.
My body trembled as my ears perked to hear every slurred word that came out of their violent mouths. The smell of alcohol entered my nose again, this time burning it because the smell was so strong. I managed to inch my way to the wall where I could rest my back on the coolness of them. My head fell back as I still held my legs tight, resting my whole body on the glass shattered wall. I refused to let my eyelids open to see what violence and damage was made by the hell that was vodka. I clenched my eyes shut as tight as I could as the violent words spewed from my dad’s mouth, and rebounded on my mom. Still holding my knees I brought my hands up to my forehead in a praying position, and prayed to the lord to make this hell stop. I prayed for him to take me away, to take me away from this hell hole that I knew was my life. Another bottle crashed on impact as it hit the walls making a slight dent in the sheet rock. I could hear my mom panic as she called for help. It seemed as if she were praying for god to come and help her, to make this man go away. Another prayer among the many that would go unanswered. I opened my bloodshot eyes slightly to see what was going on. My dads bottom lip trembled as his anger grew.
The Essay on Where Does The Body Stop And The Mind Start
Where does the body stop and the mind start In the philosophy narrative since early times there were three basic theories that described relationship and connection between mind and body. These theories are as follows: dualism, materialism and phenomenalism. Dualism is based upon the ideas that the physical and mental processes of the body are not interrelated. The proponents of materialism state ...
A man I once knew as my hero had turned into my worse enemy, and my greatest fear. This once great man, that had the biggest heart for every living creature, had turned against us all and into a monster among us. Thoughts rushed through my mind, as I huddled there in the tightest position my body would go into. If only I could do something to stop this rage between them. Finally I stood up with my knees shaking as I came out of my safe ball I had formed. Tears raced down my cheeks as I began to move slowly towards the man I once envied. His blood shot eyes glanced at me in hatred as his harsh words now seemed to move towards me. I took a step back, thinking I should have stayed in my safe fetal position. Knowing that now I was a part of this battle. Knowing that now, I would lose and suffer for my mistake of entering. Visions of the man I knew crossed my eyes, and I began to cry. The man that once used to slow dance with me at weddings was now my enemy in a war that I couldn’t win. A war that would crumble my body and my life along with my mothers. I could here her yell at my monster of a dad not to take out his anger on me. It didn’t matter though, not to him at least.
He glanced back at her, as clouds of vodka puffed out of his mouth and angrily hit her body with the harsh words he said. I could see her eyes fill up with tears as they too rushed down her cheeks like a flowing river when the dams were open. My heart ached from the site of her crying. All at once the anger inside of me grew to a point where I couldn’t hold in any longer. I flung my fist as hard as I could and planted it on my dads face. Once I felt the throb of it on his jaw, I stepped back and reflected on what I just did. Words rushed out of my mouth telling him how sorry I was. He chuckled and approached me, his pointer finger rubbing against his thumb. He smirked at me, and rubbed his jaw where I just hit him. Fear took over my body, as I awaited what was coming to me. I stood there stiffened by the thought of what was to come upon me. My arms lay silent at my sides as my knees stood facing forwards shaking slightly. I tried not to show him that I was afraid of him. I tried not to let him see past my straight face into my soul which was trembling. Inside my body was aching and crying for help, pleading for this nightmare to stop. Awaiting for my eyes to awake and see that this all was just a dream, and that my hero of a father would return.
The Essay on 1984 – In the face of pain there are no heroes
George Orwell’s 1984 is a brilliant commentary on the dangers of totalitarianism, mind control, technology and both physical and psychological manipulation. The novel’s protagonist, Winston Smith, is a very pensive and curious man. He is desperate to uncover the roots behind the twisted caste system that has been set in place by an organization called the Party. The Party demonstrates absolute ...
As he inched closer to me with every step, my whole body began to shut down. He now stood face to face with me, his vodka infested breath surrounded my body. It captured me like a net that I couldn’t get out of. A sudden pain hit my stomach, it felt like a thousand needles stabbing me over and over again. My whole face wrinkled in pain as I collapsed to the floor holding my stomach as my knees automatically sprung up to my arms where I held them tight. I tried to ignore the pain, but I couldn’t, it was too hard. I could feel the violent thrusts that came upon my ribs as I felt the size 10 shoe kick me repeatedly. I tried to move my arms to the side of my body to ease the blows to my ribs, but a strong hand flung them back. My eyes began to shut, and I gave up. It wasn’t of any use to try and stop the pain, but to accept what I had coming. Tears rushed down the right side of my face and faded away into my hair that was pushed behind my ears. I opened my eyes one last time to feel soothed by the site of my mom that was bawling and pleading for this so called hero of mine to stop. Finally I let my eyes shut and could no longer feel the harsh blows against my rib cage.
The Essay on Life Suicide Feels Face
For anyone who has ever had someone they know commit suicide Janice Mirikitani s Suicide Note allows you to see what makes a person take their own life. While reading this poem, the reasons behind this college girl s suicide are given. She has written this note as an apology to her parents. She compares herself to a sparrow, wishes she was someone else, and believes that if she is not perfect ...
My eyes refused to open, but I could still hear the cries for help being yelled out by my mother. My fathers voice became more abrupt as she kept pleading for him to stop. I could hear a squeal as my dad grabbed my mother and began to thrash her with his fists. I heard something drop on the floor, and I managed to open my eyes just enough to see my mother collapsed next to me. Her face so beautiful was now dripping blood from the side of her mouth. The black and blue seemed to mix and make a bruise on her cheek. I felt as if I could have prevented her beauty turned to pain if only I had lasted longer. If only I could have taken a couple more blows, I could have stopped this suffering brought on to her. I slowly shut my eyes again, trying to block out the image I just saw. I bit my bottom slightly and sighed to release the pain I knew was there but could not feel. I attempted to lift my head off the cool tile that I had collapsed on, but my body was so weak. I was drained of all my strength and couldn’t go on any further than what I was. I slowly let my head connect with the cool tile again and started to breathe slower. It felt as if my wind pipe had gave out, knowing I had nothing left.
The sun glared in through the window, and I could feel the warmth on my face and body. I managed to move my shaky hand up to my face, and felt my eyebrow. The plastic like blood had dried on my face, and as I tried to sit up my ribs made it harder to breathe. My face made a painful expression, and I could hear the creaking of a chair being turned my way. I heard my dads slurred voice laugh at my pain-filled body as I attempted to sit up against the sun shined wall. I stopped half way up to take a deep breath and ease the pain in my ribs. My whole body felt like it had just been ran over with a snow plow repeatedly. As I reached the wall, I let my back slowly rest against it. A sudden chill ran down my spine as I could hear my hero getting up from his watch spot to proceed over to me. My body began to tremble as I heard the clicking of his shoes hit the ground moving towards me. I could feel my soul leave my body as I heard his knee creek as he squatted besides me. As I felt his powerful hand reach over and rest on my shoulder, my whole body tensed up in fear of what he would do with me. My voice was muted and my body was paralyzed in fright. His voice not so slurred seemed to soothe me as he began to cry and ask for forgiveness.
The Essay on The Bluest Eyes Pecola Black Mother
The story of Pecola Breedlove in The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison is very dramatic. Like a seed planted in bad soil and in a hostile condition, Pecola, a very young and innocent African American girl, does not have a chance to grow up normally like her peers. Her parents' personal history is shown to have played out in extreme measures in her life. Her father, abandoned since childhood, does not ...
Tears rolled down and off of my nose and dripped on my shirt, leaving a wet spot where they landed. The hand that rested upon my shoulder lifted off as my dad fell to the floor crying. I pushed my back against the wall as I slid up it making my way into a standing position. I couldn’t stand up all the way, when I did the feeling of a million knifes inflated my lungs and caused me not to breathe. I hobbled my way over to my unconscious mother, and kneeled beside her. I ran my hand down her beaten face and looked at what had become of her. She let out a staggered breath and inhaled the warmth of the sun. Her eyes flickered to open, but couldn’t seem to make it. I sat beside her telling her that everything was all right. I peered over at my dad who was still laying there crying. As much hate that filled my body for him, I felt sorry at the same time. The smell of vodka seemed to disappear as I slowly drifted off still beside my mother. The pain in my ribs was fading along with the sun rays that lit the room. The sounds of the birds chirping outside filled my ears and blocked out the unimaginable words that once filled them. My body began to relax and I thought to myself that everything was all right.
The darkness of my eyelids seemed to take over me as I began to nod off to sleep. I reached my hand out with an open gesture to connect with my mothers, and I felt the clammy feeling of her arm as I rested my hand upon it. I could feel her move as I put it on her, it seemed to soothe her in the same way it did me. I knew that I was not alone, and that she would stay near me. As my eyes opened for the first time in a couple hours I could feel the pain in my side. Every breath I took the pain increased, so I tried to hold my breath and ease it out every time I released it. I inched my shirt up to see what damage was done. As I peered down all I could see was the black and blue of my ribs. I reached my hand up to touch them, but as I got close I could already feel the pain increase. My eyes began to frantically search the room as I noticed something missing?my mother. I could hear the sobbing through the walls along with muffled words. I stumbled to get up and made my way to the sobbing. I reached the locked bathroom door, and hesitated to knock on it. As I brought my hand up in a fist to begin the ring to stop the crying, I brought it back down to my side. I didn’t know if I wanted to find out what was behind the locked doors.
The Term Paper on Living Through the Pain of Ankylosing Spondylitis
As I sit next to my sister, Natalie, she seems saddened as she tells the story that started her difficult journey of dealing with a lifelong disease. As she describes it, “At the young age of 13, when my girlfriends were thinking about an upcoming 1950s-genre sock hop, I found myself in a Milwaukee back brace to treat a curvature of my spine called scoliosis. The brace keeps the spine virtually ...
I began to bring my fist back up again, and slowly moved it towards the hardwood door. The sun shined off the gold handle and reflected into my eyes. I moved so I could see again, and knocked softly. I heard banging and cupboards shutting, and could tell my dad was trying to hold his crying back as he answered the knock. Though the locked doors he replied “what?”. I didn’t know what to say, so I asked to come in. With panic in his voice he replied quickly “no,”. Looking at the door, my hand inched towards the shiny handle. I took a hold of it and rattled it to find out that it was still locked. A sharp pain came to my side as I began to unlock the door with my nail. The door creaked as I slowly inched it open. I poked my head inside to see my dad sitting next to my mothers lifeless body. My eyes couldn’t blink and I could feel a great pain in my chest, like someone had set a bomb in it and it was just now exploding. I shook my head in disbelief and stepped back. Before I knew it I was against the wall, staring at my father, a killer. I forgot all about the pain in my side, and tilted my head slightly and glanced around the hell stricken house.
My mouth searched for words to say but none came out. I just stood there speechless and staring at the two I loved. My dad held my mom close to his body, and tears rushed down his face. The smell of vodka was almost completely gone now, and the sun was almost set. The cool breeze of the night air filled my bruised lungs and body. I thought to myself bout the war that was neither won nor lost, but a war that we had both lost. His voice sobbed as he kept repeating over and over for the lord to forgive him, and take him instead. A prayer we both knew would never happen. I looked up at the ceiling to try and hold the tears from reaching my eyes again. My head now rested against a gold butterfly nick-knack that was hung on the wall. Involuntarily my arms raced to my face to wipe away the tears that took over my eyes. I began to slump down to the floor, and with a silent crash the butterfly hit the ground with me. My breath was now growing heavy with grief and I began to sob in my resting place of my knees. I could hear my dad get up to his feet and softly put my mother down on the bathroom rug. He slowly approached me, like a dogcatcher approaching a stray dog. He knelt besides me and tried to ease me with his voice, but I refused to look or hear the man that was once my hero and now had killed my mother.
The Essay on The Pain Barrier
Lay upon the bed, coughing. Coughing so hard that it burst blood vessels. Agony was the only thing he could feel. He didn’t want to move, in fear of even more pain pulsating through out his body. Darren lay with his eyes closed and breathing deeply. “Its probably just food poisoning…” he thought to himself. His stomach churned. Another round of the sweats, tiny little droplets formed on his ...
Before he got a chance to reach my body, I stood up still sobbing, and limped away from this stranger I knew as my father. I reached the breakfast nook and collapsed my head upon it leaning my body over to ease the pain in my ribs. My eyes peered down into the open silverware drawer, and I glanced at the blade of a shiny knife. I tried to keep the thoughts from rushing into my mind, but they wouldn’t stop coming. I slammed to drawer shut and stared at the monster that killed my mother. His eyes pleaded mine to forgive him, but I wouldn’t let myself fall for that. I reached up to grab the wall phone that was hung near me, and could hear the dial tone. I hesitated as my fingers reached for the 9. I connected my finger to it, then followed with two 1’s. The voice of a person echoed in my ears, as my dad collapsed on the floor, knowing he had failed. My voice staggered through the line into the other persons awaiting ear. Within minutes I could hear the angels sirens as the cops appeared. My dads body crumpled as he laid there shaking and crying, knowing what he had coming. The men in uniforms invaded my house and approached me questioningly. I fell to my knees and tried to block out their voices.
I tried to block out the thoughts of what just happened. My eyes opened just in time to see my dad brought up my his arms and put in handcuffs. The two officers leaded him out the back door, and I heard the screen door shut behind them. Another officer put his hand upon my shoulder and began trying to soothe me with his words. I flinched as he inflicted pain upon my body by touching me. He moved to the sink where he took a paper towel and ran it under warm water and then approached me again. This time he put the wet towel against the rubber like blood that was still dried to my face. He placed his arm around my shoulder, and for the first time I felt safe and planted my face into his chest as tears invaded my face and rolled onto him. We began to walk towards the screen door with his arm still placed upon my shoulder. I could feel my whole existence as I knew if slowly leave me as we walked out the door and into the night. The crickets and frogs croaked as they were happy in their own palace that they created. The stars shined above us, twinkling in their own universe. It all seemed unreal, as if this all were a dream that I couldn’t awake from. The officer lead me towards the police car that still had its sirens going.
He opened the passenger side door and helped me into it. A paramedic came out of the screen door next with my mothers body placed on a stretcher. I could see it in their eyes that she was dead, they knew they were too late. I felt guilt upon myself for letting this happen. The drivers side door shut softly as the officer got in it. We rode behind the ambulance on the way to the hospital. The street lights flashed by as we drove down the highway. I stared out into the distance where I peered at the stars and made a wish upon one. The officer kept talking to me, but I never noticed what he was saying. His head turned towards me and looked for a minute, then returned to the road. He didn’t say anything after that, but just sat there in silence. I guess he knew that something wasn’t right. I reached for my bruised side to try and place my cold hand upon it to ease the pain. The officer kept looking at the spot where I placed my hand, then would glance back at the road. Finally he managed to ask me what happened to my side. I didn’t reply in fear that he would do something. I kept staring out into the galaxy that was so close, but yet so far away. I could feel his strong hand reach for my side, so I inched to avoid him from touching it.
He refused to let me escape his hand and placed it upon my side. His fingers moved down the sides of my ribs as his mind lost the road and was now on my ribs. I could see his lips search for what words he was going to say, so I awaited what was to come. Now staring at the floor of the car I tried to push his hand away and cover my sides with my arm that rested on my knee. His arm moved to the wheel, and he once again watched the road. We came to the hospital where we stopped in the light. He asked to see my side, but I shook my head with a no. A single tear came down the side of my face and dripped off my nose as I saw my hero get out of the cop car ahead of us in cuffs. His head lowered with tears rolling down his face. He wouldn’t look my way, he seemed too ashamed of what he had become. As we entered through the automatic door that swung open, my eyes were filled with the pain that others here had suffered as well. It then hit me that I was going to be alone. I had no mother, and my father was none to be no more. I walked beside the officer with my head lowered and watching the tiles on the floor fly by. We reached the room where I was to be examined for any broken bones. I had forgotten about all the pain that had once infested my ribs. The officers hand fell upon my shoulder to show me that he cared. I moved away to avoid that feeling. I sat alone on the bench and stood alone in life. My mind drifted and wondered where and what happened to my hero of a father. I attempted to ask the officer, but as I searched for words the doctor walked in. He took a glance at me, and my head automatically looked at the floor. I was ashamed of everything that had happened. Not happened today, but all of my life.
