Maddison: Why Did It Have To Be This Way

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

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 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.

Throughout the story described a difference between her mother’s experience and that of her own. Although the woman in the story was a victim of circumstance she wanted and achieved what thought was a better life for her

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

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

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

She ran to her and bathed her in the concern that only a mother could conjure. My hands were still frozen to my pistol. I had been holding my breath. The gasp the crawled from my throat had reanimated me. I lowered my firearm and stepped forward. She had taken to her knees and coddled her daughter. Holding her tight, sobbing through words of comfort. I contemplated reaching out to her, making an attempt to reassure her, letting her know shes not alone but my attention was drawn to Mr. Jenkins. His incoherent mumbling rang with remorse.

I’ll do anything, please!” he screams. “Who’s after you, Nephew? What are you doing?” my father asks as Benjamin runs under the table. “The British troops! I couldn't pay my bills and did not want to be imprisoned, so I ran” He says sobbing as a look of horror rolls across my parents’ faces. “I’m sorry Benjamin, but we can’t let you stay. What would they do to us if they found you here?” my Father states. “They would take us to prison as well.” “I’m sorry Uncle. I thought you would understand as he runs out the door. That night, I am awakened from a nightmare by a loud ‘bang.’ I run to my widow and look outside but I don’t see anything. Troubled, I fall back asleep. I groan as I realize it’s friday, in other words, chore day. I get up to make my family breakfast and I see my mother in the corner of the kitchen, dead. I scream and run to my Father who is still asleep. “Father, Father, Father get up! Mother is dead in the kitchen!” I scream in his face as he processes my words. As soon as he does, he rushes to the kitchen. “She told me she needed a drink of water and I let her go,” he sobs as I try to comfort him. “I knew it was difficult for her to lose one of her sons and no longer be able to write books or to her family, but I never thought she

The lack of trust led to a lot of secrecy. She ends up stashing pills and hopes of overdosing and not trusting her mom enough to let her know how much pain she was feeling. Suffering from physical pain is tough as it is, but suffering from mental pain is worse. With hopes of looking for a relationship with her father she found out the unfortunate, her father wanting nothing to do with her. Not being wanted is the worst feeling in the world, especially by your own blood.

“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

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

“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

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