Afraid that someone might hear her shrieks, she locks herself in a room, puts a towel in her mouth and cries. When this is the pain in her heart, how would one ever understand what a rape victim goes through? Next morning, when she wakes up, she dress up like a princess, apply kohl round her eyes, puts on her favorite lip gloss and smile like she has never known what agony is. After all, she believes the only way to let the monsters not win is to tell them women are not afraid anymore! !
She awoke to the sounds of the street; crying infants and distant gunshots assaulted her senses as she blinked sleep out of her eyes. Harsh unnatural light shone through the bedroom door, disturbing the sleep of her little brother on the opposite bed. “Why are all the lights on?” She asked herself as she yanked the covers off. Her body shivered from the cold as her feet slapped against the stone floor. She stumbled over to the long cupboard mirror, scrunching her nose in distaste as she grabbed an old wooden brush.
“No. God no, just stop” I cried as I cringed away from her in mock terror, “and I don’t think gangstas say butt” I added mater-o-factly. I watched as she deflated and started chuckling, my mother. “Whatever you don’t know nada” she said as she left my room “Mom” I called after her once shed left my room. “Yea?” She asked as she peaked into my room.
No she cried in the midnight hour she woke up in fear as a man was over her touching her where he shouldn't of have been. The scream scared him and she hid up under the covers scared he was going to come back again. The hardwood floors squeaked as he walked away suddenly he turned around. She begin to cry I'll get you later and if you tell anyone I will kill you. Her sister was asleep beside of her and that night her mother gave them medication to make them sleep.
Tip-toe on the cold, hard floor to your room where your little sister lies in ambush in the corner . She will dart out screaming and scare you to death, them run shrieking down the hallway. Please! DON’T SAY THE F WORD! Her young, impressionable mind does not need the profanity.
She tries to get the girls above to move off the plank, and then she tries to persuade the block master to tell the girls, only to be slapped. She tries not to worry, but the upper bunk crashes down late. Elli gets out, and pummels the people above to try and save her mother. After getting her mother out, Elli finds out that she’s paralyzed and unconscious, and Elli is afraid. Her mother is sent to the infirmary, and Elli visits her, which is against the rules.
The nurse exclaims: Go indoors, children. That will be the best thing… Don’t bring them near their mother in her angry mood. For I’ve seen her already blazing her eyes at them As though she meant some mischief and I am sure that She’ll not stop raging until she has struck someone. (89-94) The nurse believes that she may harm the children and foreshadows their actual death. After she hears Medea cursing her sons she tries to sway Medea to more logical train of thoug... ... middle of paper ... ... powerful, manipulative, and extremely smart, yet because she is a woman she has limited social power.
She suffers, it is implied, from post-natal-depression. As she recuperates with her neurasthenia, she is not allowed to do anything but rest, she has "a schedule prescription for each hour in the day" and is especially forbidden from the creative work of writing. Moreover, the narrator is confined to an unpleasant and threatening room, one she strongly dislikes. She states "I should hate it myself if I had to live in this room long". The narrator grows progressively insane, up to the very end of the story, where she is found to have locked herself in her room, and is circling it, creeping.
When I went to bed around 11 o’clock, I was crying, like I usually did, but this time was different. I couldn’t fall asleep and my cries got heavier. I began hyperventilating, which soon woke my little sister, who was sleeping in the bed above mine. She called out to see if I was ok, but I was unable to respond. She ran down the hall to my parents room and told them that something was wrong with me.
Anger Associated with Trauma I had spent the night at a friend’s house and I couldn’t sleep so I called my mom to come get me and bring me home. On our way home I talked to her about how I wasn’t comfortable sleeping away from home and how it scared me. When we got home I rushed to the door because my grandma and my little sister Alyssa were waiting for me. As I opened the front door I could hear screaming and voices I had never heard before. My heart started racing and I couldn’t think about anything but that I wanted to see what was going on.