Descriptive Essay Frankenstein

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I am lying in bed, eyes wide open, staring around the dark room, listening. The voices grow quiet, the television buzzing a few rooms down, but I can hear the shallow breaths and snores coming from the room with the television on.
I look over at my sister who is sleeping next to me, hogging all the blankets. I let her, though, because the blankets comfort her, along with the white rabbit she clings on to. I get up out of bed quietly, trying not to wake my sister, and especially not anybody else. I cross the room swiftly in my warm, fuzzy pajamas. Light floods from under the door, and for a second I think that I see a shadow move past, as if someone was walking by. I take a sharp breath in, frozen in place. A few moments pass by, when I realize …show more content…

The parents of these children will coax them into understanding that monsters are in fact, not real. They will even check the closets and lift the covers to peer under the bed. I never believed in these types of monsters – the ones that were big, green, slimy, monsters with many arms and a few rows of sharp teeth. No, I knew monsters were real, they just happened to be human. As I grew up, I realized how right I was about that, too. What is different, however, is that I am not scared of them. I know I am stronger than them. The monsters will try to tear me down because they feed off pain, but they cannot tear me down. There are monsters after me; one in particular.
My parents got divorced when I was little because my father is abusive verbally and physically. This is when we still lived in Denver. My mom got full custody of my sister and I because the case was strong enough and there was plenty of evidence of what he did. However, the court is not always practical and in favor of what is best for the children. It was ruled that he could have scheduled visits with us. And so we did. And it was …show more content…

I didn’t have a bed to sleep in when we did that, so I slept on a window seat, not always having a blanket to sleep with. When he did get a house, it was a rundown one in the middle of nowhere. They ended up tearing it down, too, because it wasn’t safe to live in.
A couple years later, my mom got the okay to get us out of Colorado, away from the monster. We moved to Orange City in the summer of 2004. But the abuse and visits didn’t stop. We had to talk to him on the phone every other day. The court also made us have scheduled visits, but they had to be supervised by his parents; we were not allowed to be alone with him. However, these rules weren’t always executed. Those visits were the longest and most terrifying days of my life.
The laws changed, and we only had to talk to him once a week. Every Sunday at 5 o’clock in the afternoon. The rule still stands. And guess what, his abuse never stopped. Every week, my sister and I have to go through the same bullshit. He threatens us – tells us how awful our mother is, when I know for a fact she has to be the single-greatest mother out

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