Maddison: Why Did It Have To Be This Way

“My name,” she repeated, this time more steadily, “is Elizabeth .” My Father’s expression changed drastically, now the face that was once a little annoyed, began to morph to pure anger. All these years no one ever talked back to my Father, not once has anyone ever said anything against him. Time slowed down as he began to raise an arm to discipline my Ma, but bit his lip in regret and retreated to the couch across the room. Everyone froze in the silence. Nobody in this household would ever hit a lady, especially someone who does as much for us as my Ma. He was such a nice man, so handsome and helpful, why would he even think about hitting my Ma? I watched as he slouched into the crevice that's been created in

A mentally ill teenage named Jessica Roger was born to Joan and Kevin Roger. As a young girl Roger’s mother was verbally abusive to her and her sister, she even went as far as trying to kill her husband. When little Roger was about eleven years old her mother left them with their alcoholic father. Roger ended up in prison for biting her sister and other acts because of her disorder, eventually she committed suicide while serving her time in a place where she just didn't belong. Although her mother showed remorse after her death and said, “she accepts blame, maybe too much, for what happened to her Jet”. On the other hand her father was unapologetic for his drinking “I still drink. It’s legal”. Roger sent her parents countless letter of how she was feeling but they didn’t do anything until after her death. Are you wonder how a mentally ill sixteen year old girl ends up on prison?

I’d never understood what those simple words meant, and what they would come to mean in the years to come. All my small eyes were able to see was my family. That was all we were, the only normal I knew. The label had become a dark monster, demanding and frank, a massive foil to my beliefs before that night. In our tiny universe it was normal to hide things and lie, just so mother wouldn’t overreact and stress out; it was normal for her stress to climb high as a mountain, sending her plummeting into depression; it was normal for her to stay in bed all day, demons keeping her down; and it was normal for her to go away for a while, and to only be told she was sick. This time was different; I watched it through my innocent eyes; and I realized that we were not the normal I had

She had taken care of him, suffered through his fits of rage, accepted his blind addiction to loving himself, and his inability to sympathize with there needs. She was alone, isolated, and her pain was denied by his constant need for the world to revolve around his compulsions. This contradictory life weighed heavily on her, until one day she cold not live with it any longer. He came home on one of his low days. He was upset by his business, rattling on about how his business associates had wronged him. As he was ranting, something in her snapped, she grabbed the kitchen knife to her left and stabbed

She looked at the child, safely in her arms, breathing steadily. She looked at the man, then turned her head at the semi. The semi woman had no chance. She cared for the child, even when it ended her own life. She cradled the child in her arms, quietly praying that he didn’t what had become of his mother. She didn’t know that the child was hanging onto her arm, sobbing into her sleeve. The warm, wet tears on her shirt had brought something out of her. She broke down in the middle of the road. She cried into the bright blue coat of the little boy. He was tightly holding his Teddy bear when she had grabbed him, but when she looked down, he was no longer in possession of such an innocent creature. He dropped it when she had set him on the ground. She stood up, looked at the burning car and semi, and realized that she had saved a person, but she was mostly proud at the fact that she had saved a child, no older than eight years. The police took her, the man, and the child into custody. She walked to the ambulance with the help of an officer. The girl had been silent from the moment that she had put her earbuds in. She hadn’t spoken a single word. Not a single

Eileen was startled by the sight of her mom pointing a gun to her head. Luckily her mother was sleeping. She felt dizzy, Like this wasn't happening. She didn't want to wake and scare her and potentially have the gun go off. So she gently took her fingers off the trigger and took the gun out of her hands. It was like surgery of how precise she was taking it out of her hand. Once the gun was out of her hand she put it on the bed farthest away from her and shook her awake and just started yelling at her. Some of the things she said were “ How could you be so selfish?” and “I hate you!” She walking out of her room she hid the gun in a different room. She was so upset. She couldn't believe that her own mother would take her life. Or at least attempt to. She felt that every waking moment her mother abused her. She felt that her mother made her do EVERYTHING in the house. She was so angry at her mother. She had done everything she had ever asked of her and yet she wanted to take her life. But her mom did give a lot more respect towards

I was consumed by my own anger: the fear of being all alone, that I wasn’t able to control the beast in me. Because of this, I had missed the last words my mother said, her last days and her last smile. I was selfish, and as much as it pains me to admit, my ego was greater than anything that was happening in the house.

The author was seeking justice against her father’s shooter. Though her father had let the ordeal go, she chose infiltrate the attacker’s privacy and live with their family as a journalist. As she learned more about them, her thinking shifted towards the shooter. She did not forgive him but when he was not released with all of the other prisoners, she felt sorrow for the family and herself. She has learned from the family about the attacker and felt sorry that she had ever tried to seek vengeance against him. He was already shown justice but after talking with the family, she only wanted his forgiveness, forgetting about seeking

“My mother stood in the shadows of our kitchen, but she didn’t look at me and she didn’t say a word. Uncle took me tightly by the wrist. As he led me from the house, my mother reached out her hand towards me and clawed the air as though trying to pull me back. Then she picked up my little brother and hid behind the door, but I saw her face wither with pain and, in that moment, fear gripped my heart.” (Chapter 1, Page 5 and

“It is a shame that her father left her...this happened because her mother failed her job as a wife...she is so young...what was her father thinking?”, my relatives whispered as they sipped their tea. My cousin’s face turned pale like the white blanket of snow falling outside the lodge at the camp in Lake Tahoe. Her expression held so many emotions as if it was a canvas of a painting to be gazed upon. I could see that she felt frustrated and tired of these rude remarks, and all I did was just stand there and caressed the back side of her hands, so I could comfort her. Suddenly, it felt like the air had thickened so much that even a hammer could not slash it into tiny bits. My cousin had not yet known why her father left the house yesterday.

She had been blessed with long, silky, blonde hair and cobalt blue eyes. I loved her eyes. They were the same color as our father’s, and with him gone, I often felt as though Kayla was my only way to hold on the a small glimpse of him I still had in my life. Our father had died when Kayla had only just turned four, so she didn’t have the memories of him that I did, and I knew she envied me for it. She was too sweet to ever treat someone with animosity, even if they deserved it, as I felt I probably often did. I was the fiery sister, the one with stubbornness leaking from every pore. I was the one who held grudges, and made sarcastic comments. She, in turn, was quick to forgive and offer favors. I envied her, this. I simply hadn't the patience to deal with all the backbiting falsies of the world. As I stood there, thinking these thoughts, she drew away from the door of her room, coming instead, to the door of mine. She leaned quietly against the door frame, simply watching me as I reached for my boots. She was a quiet one, my sister, always observing, taking the measure of everyone she crossed. I wondered what she was thinking now, with her watchful eyes gazing at me with thoughtfulness. Finally, after a moment or two she spoke. “ Are you ok, T? I heard your argument with mom.” I quickly looked up at her from where I sat on the bed, pulling on my brown and turquoise boots. Mom and I had been arguing about Kayla’s medicine. I hadn't known she could hear us, talking in low, fierce voices in the

She decided to look down for the rest of the walk after getting glared at by a passerby. As she was watching her feet and skipping over the cracks in the pavement, something had yanked the back of her jacket. Whipping around, Becca saw a shambled family. They were tan and soaking wet; their cardboard home shaped the background of the frightening portrait Becca was faced with. A wave of angry words, desperate words confronted her, echoing without meaning her mind. The mother of the two children fell to her knees weeping, pleading for something Becca would never exactly know. The daughter, the girl Becca realized pulled her jacket, stared at her. Dark chocolate colored eyes were melting with the heat of her pain and her brittle lips smoked with the speed of her pleading words. Becca was being pulled away unknowingly when she heard a familiar rumble coming from the pit of the girl’s stomach. And just as soon as the encounter had happened, it was over. Concern replaced the sound of desperation and she let her family know she was fine. She went back to looking at her feet. In a couple of minutes, Becca’s family arrived at the

The bond between a mother and child is often spoken of as being unlike any other. Yet there are always exceptions to the rule where this connection isn 't as impenetrable as one might assume. This book is an example of this bond gradually becoming weaker over time. It shows how it affects the child, Bone, and leaves her vulnerable to the abuse of her step-father. Bone’s mother, Anney, had fallen in love with a man who abused her which at first, she’s unaware but eventually comes to realize but still chooses to stay with him. Throughout the book there are instances of Anney’s negligence in recognizing her daughter’s abuse and being of aid to her but wasn 't. In having to deal with her

Seth sat silently in the back seat of his mom’s car. He had been staring out the window since 9:00 this morning for the past 10 hours he had been in the car. His mom had frequently been checking on him through the rearview mirror, but he didn’t blame her. He knew that she was worried about him. After all, until 3 months ago she had been in the same state of mind he was right now, so he knew that she understood what he felt like. On some levels anyway. She couldn’t fully understand what he was going through since she hadn’t been the one to cause the problems. Yet here they were, making the annual trip to Seth’s grandparents house the only difference was the were a man short this year. Their home was in Minnesota only 5 miles south of the Canadian border and in the middle of nowhere. It took the police 50 minutes to get there and there were only a few people that shared lake Kabetogama with them.

The tone of this story is one of fear, regret, and guilt. The story first leaves the reader with impression that it may be a recount of the life of a daughter who was lost due to neglect. Soon it is evident