David
The chaos from my teenage sister’s birthday party was deafening. Somehow through the noise, I registered that the phone was ringing. Jumping up, my sister answered it in hopes of hearing her boyfriend’s voice. A look of concern and confusion crossed her face as she handed me the phone. She mouthed the word "David" as I placed the receiver to my ear. Immediately I began fighting off a panic I could not yet explain. Dead. David. Crying and screaming assaulted my senses. "He's dead. He's dead," were all I could hear. I wondered briefly if this was someone’s idea of a cruel joke. But, within moments, the cold reality of this life changing nightmare set in.
How could something like this happen to someone I was so close to? I had just talked to him that morning. We were supposed to meet up later to hang out like always. My heart hurt; I couldn’t breathe. It was like I was stuck in a bad movie and I couldn’t turn it off. The tears just wouldn’t stop. I had to see for myself. I slipped my shoes on, grabbed my keys, and rushed to my car.
The drive to David’s house was agonizing. I could barely see the road through my tears. The whole drive my mind was racing, trying to grasp the reality of what just happened. Once I got there and saw the ambulances, the policemen, and the look in his family’s eyes it hit me like a ton of bricks. He was really gone and not coming back. I've never seen a body bag with a real body in it. Not in real life and not with one of my friends inside. But there he was surrounded by detectives as the Emergency medical technicians were loading him into the ambulance. I'll never be able to erase that image from my mind and believe me, I have tried.
David was a close friend of mine. We had known each other since elementary school. He was the one that could make me laugh nonstop and without even trying to. I could always depend on him to lift my spirits. He had the most amazing caramel eyes that seemed liked they stared into your soul.
As a teenager David remained primarily a loner, which came as little surprise considering his parent's reclusive nature and lack of outside social contact. He was remembered as a nice looking boy, possessing a violent streak, a bully who often assaulted neighborhood children for no apparent reason (Bardsley 2001). These are common prototype traits of many killers at a young age. Even in cases like Cash and Jeremy Stromeyer, there are small indications that the child will have future problems in dealing with people and developing relationships (Aspland, 10/15/01).
His heart was like the ice on the bowl, broken to pieces. His precious friend, David, was frozen to death.
Finally, not only did the emotional things impact Dave’s life so did the physical things. The most significant was the time his mother stabbed him on “accident.”
Within ‘Working with Evidence’, each visual source portrayed the French Revolution in different ways. To begin visual source 16.1 (The Patriotic Snack, Reunion of the Three Estates), presents three estates interacting with each other over lunch. In the background, there are five peasants hunting, which might have been a common thing in France before the revolution. Located by the name of the source is the date the picture was created (August 4, 1789), which is the year the revolution began. This source portrays the equality of all men, presenting a positive view of the revolution. In visual source 16.2 (A Reversal of Roles: The Three Estates of Revolutionary France), the view of the revolution shifted. The third estate (peasant) is breaking
All I saw was my brother’s limp body fall backwards straight onto the cold concrete. It happened so fast. I stood there in shock as my brother was lying on the ground, as still as a statue, almost dead-like. My heart was beating a million miles per hour as I ran to get my mom and dad. My dad asked me what was wrong, but no words could come out of my mouth. I dragged him to our basement where my brother was laying lifeless.
I woke up at John Morris’ house, on his coach. As I knocked a flyaway hair out of my face I noticed my face was wet, with tears, and then it all hit me at once that my Dad and Mrs. Borden were dead. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I heard John Morris ask if I was alright, but that seemed like a completely different world, I responded with a meek okay, so Mr. Morris wouldn’t see me like this. That didn’t work though, I saw his tall shadowy figure ducking under the door frame with tea. As Mr. Morris sat down and put the tea on the coffee table in front of us, I turned my head and quickly wiped the tears from my eyes in hopes he wouldn’t see.
Oh my God! Betsy!" It was my dad. I was disappointed and embarrassed of myself. I had let him down. My voice yelled for help as my heart beat rapidly with fear and relief. The car wobbled. I could feel the weight of the car lift slowly off me. For the first time, intense pain struck my lower half. "Crawl out of there," someone yelled to me. I pushed against the ground with all my might but I couldn't move. The pain was excruciating, nevertheless I could not feel the lower half of my body. I felt paralyzed. Still struggling to move, I felt strong arms glide around my shoulders and under my armpits. They drug me out of the way of the falling car. My dad had saved me. As I lie on the weed covered ground, several people surrounded me. I dreamily looked around and saw my sister sitting Indian style next to me, plastered in blood. She had run barefoot to the nearest house to call 911 and my dad. She was my angel. We sat there in shock. Was it just a dream? Everything had happened so fast. Every minute lying on that dirt felt like a lifetime. Strangers kept poking every inch of my body and bugging me with questions that I didn't have answers to. After that, the ambulance finally arrived. They rushed over to my sister and I and they asked me a number of questions that I obliviously answered and started to get me ready to go. With a bright orange brace around my neck they slowly pushed me onto a stiff
We were slammed off the road in a tumble, and the only screams I could hear were my own. It was a blur in memory, but crystal clear in the moment. It felt like every ticking second was an eternity. A painful eternity, feeling each one of my ribs agonizingly crack. Listening to the bloodcurdling screams I couldn't even recognize as my own. The car had flipped and we were rolling down a steep hill at full speed. The truck had crushed Aaron's skull like a squished grape and I was in too much of a panic to turn to a seemingly dead Cheyenne. My entire body was lit up with excruciating pain and my ears rang louder than my
After having an encounter with his girlfriend, David had to explain to her what happened to him as a child, and because of what he told her, it is believed that she told everyone his “secret”. David had begun to feel ashamed and ridiculed, just like he was throughout his childhood. As a result of this, he attempted to take his life, twice. The first time he overdosed on his mother medication, and the second attempt, he did overdosed as well, but also tried to drown himself. Although, once he recuperated, Brian introduced him to a young woman, Jane. Ultimately they began to develop feeling for one another and soon enough, got
During the eighteenth century, France was one of the most richest and prosperous countries in Europe, but many of the peasants were not happy with the way France was being ruled. On July 14, 1789, peasants and soldiers stormed the Bastille and initiated the French Revolution. This essay will analyze the main causes of the French Revolution, specifically, the ineffectiveness of King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, the dissatisfaction of the Third Estate, and the Enlightenment. It will also be argued that the most significant factor that caused the French Revolution is the ineffective leadership of King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.
I grabbed what ever I could salvage my wallet, my coat, and keys to my house. I walked to my brothers house and knocked on the door, no reply. His car was there so he wasn't at work. I opened the door and saw him sitting on the couch on the phone. He looked devastated. I could only hear bits of what he said "Alright...yes....okay...no...thank you..bye" he clicked off the phone and put his head in his hands. "God dammit Nicky..." I heard him say. oh no I thought, someone must have told him that I crashed the car. I looked over at William which was sobbing repeating my name. "William! i'm so sorry I didn't mean to crash the car! please don't cry!" he didn't respond neither look up at me.
I thought I was going to leave empty handed until I spotted the stack of boxes in the far left corner. There was a small wooden box on the top labeled David Walker with black sharpie. This is it. I thought. I sprinted out of the attic holding the box in one hand and the ladder in the other. Out of breath, I plopped down onto my bed, sitting with my legs crossed and the box out in front of me. Answers… Please give me answers. I thought as I opened the box. Inside held a picture of a man with dark skin and short black hair. I assumed this was my father. In his arms was my mother. They were both smiling uncontrollably as if it was the best day of their lives. What went wrong… I thought. Underneath was a black journal, tied shut with a thick string. I lifted it out of the box, untied the string, and began to read the
It felt so dragged out because all I wanted was to see him and tell him the news. Our connection felt different, phone calls were made shorter and they weren’t as frequent. I missed him. Two nights had gone by without a phone call or even a message. This wasn’t typical of Luke. I was becoming increasingly worried. I tried to distract myself from the situation and went to Atlanta to visit my parent’s for the weekend. This provided a distraction from my despair. When I arrived home, the flat fell silent. I sat aimlessly on the sofa, starring at the telephone, hoping that maybe it would ring. I tried turning my television on but I was oblivious to anything around me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew something was wrong. Fifty-five minutes passed, as I stared at the phone. That was when I heard it
I finally convince myself that I can not let go of John because I never took the chances I had to tell him that he was special to me. He died earlier than anyone thought he would, and I knew him. This was supposed to happen to other people, but it is happening to me.
My heart was simply ripped apart. I could not believe it at first, but I knew I had to. After all these wonderful years and enthralling moments, I finally have to face God's greatest challenge. My mind wasn't as messy as before anymore and I couldn't even think of what to think. It seemed as if I had nothing to worry about, nothing to do, nothing to say. I was trapped inside this room waiting for the Grim Reaper to reap my innocent soul.