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:: Na SASPI.cz je právě 29010 příspěvků, 4550 autorů a 303546 komentářů :: on-line: 5 ::
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:: Fear ::
| Tohle je soucast knihy s pracovnim nazvem Life. V podstate chci jen zjistit jetsli to nekdo bude cist. I am a beginner, so please be gentle with me ;o)... I am open to suggestions and criticisms... |
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I was so scared that my whole body was trembling unstoppably. I just could not control myself. All I could think about was: "I AM SCARED!” He wasn't terribly aggressive, he didn't try to hit me and he didn't shout. All I was scared of was a memory. A night mare which has been keeping me awake since I was a kid. I can still see it so clearly, running in front of my eyes like a bad horror movie. It wasn't me, it was my mum. It wasn't my boyfriend, it was my dad. And I was scared.
It was a night like so many nights before. My dad came home early morning after he had been out drinking with his mates, spending our last money on alcohol.
First, there was the buzzer. He lost his keys. Again. He kept pressing. The sound going through my ears and digging deep into my head like a screw being pushed in by some invisible hand. I was scared. I didn't want to get up and open the door for him. I knew he was going to shout at me for not opening the door straight away. I just wanted to sleep. But the buzzer kept going on and on. It wasn't going to stop, I knew, but I kept fooling myself that he would get tired and go away. He didn't. He never did.
Eventually, my brother got up and opened the door. Immediately, I could hear my father complaining that we had kept him waiting. He didn't shout. He never shouted at my brother. He loved him; he was his little boy, his son.
The silence which followed scared me. It was the stillness before a storm. I just wanted to sleep. I couldn't, because I knew what was coming. I felt my brother reaching over to hold my hand and ... nooo.
"You fucking bitch". I heard him yelling while banging on the bedroom door.
And there it was again. Endless arguing and fighting. I felt so scared that my body was trembling unstoppably.
"Enrique, don't touch me please. Just don't touch me. You scare me."
"I am not going to do anything."
"Just don't touch me please!"
"OK, OK"
Then I heard him snoring. He was asleep. I wish I could sleep. I just want to sleep. I can't. I keep thinking of what happened in the last twenty-four hours.
The party was great. Everyone had such a good time. Enrique was so nice and we danced most of the night. His family and friends were all so nice and they accepted me as if they had known me for ages. But they were all drinking. A lot. A lot of whiskey. I didn’t realize how much Enrique had drunk until he just suddenly disappeared. He wasn't picking his phone up, so I asked his cousin Carlos to go and look for him with me. We found him at home, lying on the bed, completely drunk. He suddenly got up and started to shout at us that he had seen us kissing, that I had betrayed him and he never wants to see me again. Carlos left. I was worried that Enrique would do something stupid, so I tried to get him to the bed. It was hard work as he kept shouting at me, while getting ready for bed. Then suddenly he just turned at me and in his eyes I saw what I saw so many times before. I saw it in my dad's eyes. It was anger, hate and sorrow, pain and the urge to cause pain. I was scared. The way he talked, the way he gesticulated and the way he looked at me, he resembled my father so much that it just sent me all those years back. In to the old pain. Pain I thought was forgotten. Pain I thought was forgiven. It wasn't. It hurts now as it had hurt before.
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OprsklinaPlott
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| (24.5.2012, 18:02) |
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Jay
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| (23.5.2012, 16:28) |
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Kostka
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| (22.5.2012, 19:55) |
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mikhal
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| (22.5.2012, 18:14) |
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| Kde nejčastěji hledáte zatoulanou inspiraci? |
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