Why Doesn T We Get Away?

While presenting itself as an institution of the upmost moral character, the Devon School is really the breeding ground for broken students. As a result it is this very framework, the war and the prestige of a distinguished academy, which caused these students to break. The youth at this school were forced to put up with emotional struggle after struggle, and that reflects the harsh setting of this story.

While presenting itself as an institution of the upmost moral character, the Devon School is really the breeding ground for broken students. As a result it is this very framework, the war and the prestige of a distinguished academy, which caused these students to break. The youth at this school were forced to put up with emotional struggle after struggle, and that reflects the harsh setting of this story.

So, she walked numerous blocks to the bus stop, got on the bus, and rode within two blocks of the school. She got off the bus and observed that there were many more cars along the street than normal.She heard the murmur of a crowd, but when she got to the corner of the school, she was reassured by the sight of soldiers circling the school grounds. She saw her peers going to school. She saw the guards break position as students approached the sidewalks to pass through into the school. As she approached the guard at the corner, as she had seen multiple others do, and they closed ranks. So, she thought, maybe she was not supposed to enter at this point. She walked further down the line of soldiers to another sidewalk where attempted to pass through there. Although when she stepped up, they crossed rifles. Once again she thought to herself, maybe she was supposed to go down to the main entrance. She walked toward the center of the street and approached the guard who directed her across the street into the crowd. It was only then that she realized she would not go to school.

At some point, their ears had finally given in to the echoing shots and yells and had dulled to the point where they could barely hear anything at all. The students - cut, bruised and bloodied - lay upon the ground. Dead or hiding. Hoping for mercy, for that’s all they had left to hope for.

Most people stopped smiling. Screams were heard. Dancing stopped. Why were people screaming? All I heard was the beat of the music. People began running towards the front door, into the bathroom, behind the bar. Anywhere they could hide. I stood on my tiptoes to see the commotion, A guy was holding a gun, shooting us. Bodies dropped rapidly. My heart sunk. Where was Travis? Kendra? I couldn’t find my best friends. Still on my tiptoes, I looked around. I saw Kendra. Then a crowd of people engulfed her and I could no longer see her. I hoped that my friends would be okay before I rushed into the bathroom. A small pile of people cowered together upon hearing the bathroom door swing open. They thought I was him. Once seeing I held no weapon, they yanked my t-shirt sleeve and pulled me into the pile of crying, shaking, scared friends. I pulled out my phone, clicking it on then opening the thread of messages between my mom and I. Quickly, I typed a brief explanation of what was happening and where I was. I sent an ‘I love you both’ before shoving my phone back in my pocket. I gripped a stranger’s hand tightly, tears rushing down my face like a waterfall. A sob choked in my throat, causing my breath to hitch, letting out a hiccup. A stranger hugged me closer. The shouts wouldn’t leave my head. I heard them all over, I heard the shrieks, the calls for help. Why is this happening? was all I could think. I squeezed my eyes shut, throwing my hands over my ears,

The dreaded sound echoed through the silent class sending chills through the spines of the students. As he patrols like a warden looking for an excuse to use his power on anyone that smirks. The kids put in order based on someone's perception, and forced to work in silence by themselves with punishment if they don’t follow. If its not a prison then I don’t know what is. The variety of people in the class was vast with the son of a brilliant doctor who secretly schemed in silence on what tortures act he would tackle next, there is a girl whilst innocent on the outside has her complete on view on the way the world works in regards to the expectancy of women versus men. Finally the most extraordinary of all is a boy that has the nickname Bonehead. He sits in the hallowed class room with the most

Ashley repeatedly screamed, over and over again. She did not know if she would die or if she would make it out alive anymore. She doesn’t know what day it was, nor why it happened. But all she knew was that It wasn’t a maniacal serial killer or kidnapper that took her. It was one of her best friends. The only questions left is, Which one? moreover, Ashley was tied to a pole in a dirty, dark, and wet basement. She heard the door to the basement open and there stood the person who’d taken her. She was abruptly silent before asking “Why did you kidnap me? Why are pretending to help find me? why?”. After a brief pause the person said “because you deserve this” the person slowly walked up to Ashley and kneeled down before proceeding “Everything that happens to you from now on…you deserve it”. “What did I, ever, do to you, to deserve this? what Mycah?!” I, however, jolted awake from my nap, realizing that I was still in 2nd periods’ math class. “What’s with you Jordan?” Brittany asked. “what? oh nothing, just a weird dream is all” I said before finishing my math

The Superintendent walked solemnly down the dimly lit hallway. The vast walls of lockers gave him an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, eating away at his soul like acid eating away metal. The psychologically effects transmitted to his outer body, causing him to halt to an abrupt stop. Standing like a deer in headlights, his mind was instantaneously flooded with brisk images of the once flourishing hallways. He stifled a faux smile, composed himself, and erratically walked into the main office, where he prepared to apologetically deliver the final afternoon announcement of the High School’s history. Alone¬¬––later in his office, another pang of dense, impenetrable darkness suffocated him and he let out a cry of resignation. He put his chapped

The night was black, blacker than the charred remains of the students who were unlucky enough to be sent to The Mills. The other children were cowering in the classrooms, hiding under anything they could fit themselves in. From the hallways the only sound you could hear was the occasional loud cry of a child who was caught by the instructors. Every child that they find was sent straight to The Mills, and everybody knows… If you get sent to the Mills, you’re not coming back. Every room in the building was filled with nothing but students trying to hide, while the instructors roamed around looking for them, but there were a few instructors who didn’t participate in the torment. There were three of them who were trying to end the madness, and

It was an oppressively hot and humid day (as usual) at Academy at the Lakes, and Mrs. Starkey was giving a tour to a group of august looking potential investors for the next fundraiser. As she approached the ‘infamous’ Room M-32, she began to feel nervous, and she began to speculate about the devastating possibilities, an idiosyncratic habit of hers. With sweat in her hand, she grabbed the door handle, and she, reluctantly, opened the door. Utter chaos. There were mad kids screaming at each other, and kids hitting each other; the class behaved like a stochastic fractal. Some kids were severely injured with broken bones and traumatizing hits to the head, and other kids were defenestrated. Mrs. Frizzle was out of school (so was the magical school bus), but her students were still in the classroom.

The door crashes open. A boy, not yet 15 stands there with a gun. The general quickly pulls the trigger. An explosion and the sound of shattering skull fill the room. The boy’s limp corpse falls onto the slick tiled floor. He cocks it again. More charge in their faces contorted in pure rage and anger. More lead flies through the air, the trigger pulled, the life leaves another rebel, a woman. They keep crashing in, the general fires again, more blood stains the black and white floor of the office. The red sprays out, gushing out of open wounds.

Sweat from my forehead burned my eyes, and Ryan was as red as an apple. His brown hair was matted on his head with sweat, and his legs were trembling from fear. I felt anxiety build within me and tasted the defeat of letting my parents and teachers down. I went rigid out of terror and could see my near future flash before my eyes, being suspended from school and cut from my basketball team. Just as the idea of running home entered my mind, I heard the roar of the loud speaker through the thick air. The tense mood could be interpreted from miles away as Ryan and I clammed up out of fear. I wondered if we would be announced over the speaker and embarrassed for the whole school to perceive. The speaker’s alarm finally came to a halt after an eternity seemed to pass; I listened

“I thought at first that she was a ghost and cried a lot.” Sophia’s eyes glossed over as if reliving the experience. I was about to get up to ask for a box of tissues when she glanced over at me and stopped me. “Please don’t. I need to tell you this in one sitting for her and to have the kidnapper stopped.” There was a lengthy pause as she braced herself to continue and this time with tears slowly falling down her cheek. “She didn’t move for a long time as she just let me cry. I think at some point I fell asleep and when I woke up again two guys were there to give us our food.” There was an even longer silence. Sophia had stopped crying and had a puzzled look again.

The final bell rang, and students erupted in a joyful chorus of cheers as summer break began. I sang a melancholy dirge of self-pity. My bitterness increased as I waited for my mother to pick me up. She came at last and I jumped up, anxious to leave forever. Again, Mrs. Thomas thwarted my plans; she came outside to talk to my mother, undoubtedly about my ignominious fate. As they murmured, I viewed the co-conspirators with hostile eyes. I'm a victim, the final sigh of my fifth grade year whispered wearily.

Have you ever encountered a tragic moment and saved someone’s life? All of a sudden I was the only one that could help because everyone else was in shock. The bravest moment of my life that surprised me was giving CPR to a man in a restaurant.