I remember when I used to be normal. I still worked at the hospital and I enjoyed it. My daughter Sara, who was two, had beautiful blue eyes, just started speaking and playing like every other kid in the world. My wife Katie loved Sara and me. It’s all gone now, it killed them, it controlled me, I killed them. I still remember the bloody scene today. Kate was sleeping and I grabbed her throat she was terrified. She yelled… The scream still rings in my ears today. She woke Sara up; Sara was sleeping next to me. I grabbed Kate and smashed her head against the wall, she fell unconscious and I choked her to death. Sara was still screaming, it pissed me off, snapped her neck in half. I was afraid, I did this, no, it did this. It’s been with me ever since I was born. It used to always enjoy the sight of blood but I never truly controlled me, every one in a while I would take control but only for a few …show more content…
This time it got me suspended from the hospital for two months to get my shit together. Since being suspended I’ve been hiding, scared for my life and sanity. Soon after I got suspended from the hospital, it took over again. Three days I had no control. It would stare at the mirror for hours; I could see it giving an ominous grin. It knew that I couldn’t affect him; it knew that I was weak and I knew that it made me sick. During the tree days I ate nothing it made me cut my wrist and drank my blood I don’t know too much about what it did but I do know this much: on the first night it got bored the blood gushing out of my forearms weren’t enough to entertain it. It walked outside; I knew where it was going Eat Woods. East Woods was usually the place killers would hunt, sometimes a teen or young adult would go there to muck around. The ghostly howls, dark path and dead nature could be seen for miles. There was no green leaf to be found, animal bones and rats were
There was a warm breeze, the sun was shinning, and it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. As I briskly walked to the auditorium my heart was racing with nerves. Today was the first day I would have the opportunity to go and mentoring some of the young women at the Richard L. Bean Juvenile Detention Center in Knoxville, TN. Ever since I found out this program was available I was more than eager to go and make a difference.
Once released from prison, he or she is deemed a felon. Losing the right to vote, not being able to serve on a jury, and inability to enforce his or her second amendment is just a few of the disadvantages of serving time, but this is just the textbook interpretation. There is no much more that is at stake when you step foot behind bars. Once a person gains their freedom the better question to ask is what wasn’t taken form them? Their job if there was one in the first place, their children, their family, and most importantly the part of the person that made them a member of society.
To those who have never had this disease, you cannot imagine how frightening the demons are, how they take over your life, your every thought, your every action. There is no respite within the mind; it is constantly on overdrive.
When I was 8 my dad went to prison. He had a feeling his time was coming and spent as much time with me as he could before he was taken away. He bought me a silver box chain necklace with a cross before he left and I still keep it hanging from the wall.
In this critic, I will be analyzing and comparing two books. The first book is “A question of Freedom a Memoir of Learning, Survival, and Coming of Age in Prison” by R. Dwayne Betts. The second book is “Newjack: Guarding Sing Sing” by Ted Conover. In this comparison will first give a short summarization of both books. Second I will be answering the fallowing questions, what prisons are discussed? What types of prisoners are there- age, race, sex, level of crime? How current is the information? What are the conditions of the prisons? How are the prisoners treated? How are the guards and their viewpoints represented? How are the prisoners and their viewpoints represented? What forms of rehabilitation are there? What are the social relationships with other inmates? What opportunities are available to occupy prisoners? What point of view is the author taking – critical, Positive, does she/he write from the viewpoint of a guard, a prisoner? What evidence is/are the author’s points based on and how is the evidence presented - for example, first hand observations, Statistics? Also what changes, if any, are proposed or discussed by the author? How does the information in this book compare with what you’ve read in the text and articles and what you have observed on a class trip? Lastly what is your opinion of the information and viewpoint expressed in the book?
for youngsters who have a long history of convictions for less serious felonies for which the juvenile court disposition has not been effective” (qtd. in Katel).
During the first session with the client we went over the consent form and I asked them if there were any questions about it, which they had only one to make sure that it was not being show to the entire class, once answered they signed the form. I think that when I make my own form I will have a better understanding of how to explain the reason behind it and also better explain what it is form. After the form was signed I conducted and interview with the client.
It was day 3 of life in prison and one of my fellow prisoners decided to ask me ”so how did you get here because you know we all have our story.” I thought about telling him and eventually I agreed. “It all started when I was younger and I fled New York to go west where I thought I would make a better living, but now I regret for what I have done to get my money,” I explained. “that is almost exactly how I got into this terrible prison,” the prisoner said. “anyways, I had an appointment scheduled for me and my old pal Jimmy Wells to come meet each other after twenty years,” I said.
“ No, I would never hurt you,” I assured her as I grabbed her small, precious arm and pulled her away from the dangerous tree roots. Monique with 100% trust in me exclaimed, ” go on flip me.” She was so tranquil, which made me more nervous. I was panicking, my though dried up and I was starting to reconsider flipping her. I had a million thoughts, what if I hurt her, why does she trust me so much? ”Victoria, Victoria!”, Monique screamed. “ Yeah sorry!” I reply with hesitation. I pulled a confident face and started counting down, “ 3, 2, 1”. I grabbed her shaking arm and flipped her over my head into the air. Time stopped at that moment, Monique’s face turned from calmed and collected to scared and surprised in an instance. “Bang” she fell on the muddle, and rough ground. “ARGHHHH”, screamed Monique, from the excruciating pain. “It hurts”, she yelled while laying still on the grey grass
I awaken to the sun beaming through my tiny window. I place my bare feet one by one on the cold concrete floor, standing and stretching as high as I can, until that satisfying pop sounds as my spine loosens up. Then it's a reach for the toes as my calves feel loose again. I trot out of my small cell and begin jogging, as I have every morning for a really long time. The air is stale, cold and crisp.
The Reader didn’t really give any insight on how Hanna felt that prison changed her. We heard other people's recounts of her life in those years but we will never know how she felt about it.
I have walked through jungles where the light of the shadows can make even the biggest creature afraid. Where I saw trees that were Triassic-tall with heads as thick as a redwood’s. They tower over everything, silent and brooding in their leafy canopy. Their trunks were as thick as barrels and reached upwards like zombies coming alive. Hanging from them were beards of moss, green and swinging with a lazy movement.
As the contractions began to grip my stomach, I realized that my life would forever be changed. Knowing the old me had to die in order for me to become a new me. After being abandon at the age of five, I grew up feeling lonely and unloved. I was filled with so much anger, malice, hurt and unforgiveness that I held against others. I didn’t have the luxury of living in a stable environment, because growing up I was always living from home to home. I had no intentions to strive for better, I had begun to allow my upbringing to be my excuse. Years of disappointment resulted in me caring less in others desire. I couldn’t love anyone because love was never shown to me, but
There is a lot of parts that make a prison operate. From the generators to give out power to the building, to the janitors to keep the building clean and the mail room to sort and pass out the mail that’s comes through. But there is three key parts that make a prison function. One of those parts is; the outside fencing and barbwire that’s wrapped around the building. Without it inmates are able to come and go when they please. No boundaries are set making the jail pointless. A second key part is the commanding officer. His job is to control the inmates on what they do. The officer knows what the inmates are doing through the day, meaning if an inmate did something the officer knows about it. Lastly the holding cell.
It was dark that night, I was nervous that this dreadful day was going to get worse. Sunday, October 23, 1998 I wanted to start writing this to tell about the weird things i’m starting to see in this new neighborhood. Gradually I keep seeing pots and pans on the sink suddenly move to the floor. I would ask my sister but she is out with my mom and dad getting the Halloween costumes. When they got home I didn’t tell them what I saw because i've seen Halloween movies and I have to have dissimulation otherwise the ghost will come out and get me first. October 24, 1998 I think I got a little nervous yesterday with the whole ghost thing. 12:32pm, Went to eat lunch with the family today and I go to get my coat. I heard the words furious and madness,