Personal Narrative-Damn Center

This alley is the only place where I can actually find refuge. I collapse on the ground once I enter the old shack. And I just lie there. Breathing hard, wishing I could leave the cruel world.

First of all I was in my dark room with the only light being my t.v, I playing Xbox with my friend Skylar, we were playing Rainbow Six Siege a counter terrorism shooter. It was a late on a dark, stormy night, it was bomb objective and only I was left on the team to face five other enemies defusing the bomb and I slowly and stealthy with his silenced pistol picked off about two enemies outside the objective roaming and then pulled out his primary the 416-C Assault Rifle and went in blazing in the objective and his heart was racing he picked off another two enemies and that’s when he began guarding the defuser waiting to find the last enemy. “Can you search cams Skylar?” I asked Skylar.

"More than anything, I just want you to know that there is more than one person you can lean on. You may have someone up their who you are relying on, but you have two incrediably strong sons who would never wish to see their mother in pain like this. Whatever the outcome we finally get your boys will be strong for you and in return I'm sure you will be strong for them."[/b]

The summer of 2012 took me for a whirlpool of a surprise. My parents introduced me to the thought of moving from my little town of Woolwich in New Jersey, all the way to southern New Hampshire. My family owns a little cabin on a lake on the Maine- New Hampshire border and it became unsafe for my mother to drive eight hours up to the lake after working those long hours at her job. So, my family decided it was either time to sell our little cabin or to move, and my parents did not want to part with that 14 by 30 structure on a lake. Within the next few weeks, our house was on the market and we already had our realtor up in New Hampshire finding dozens of houses to go look at, in the hopes of finding my house today.

Hell, If I could, I would have turned right around. But I couldn’t. There was still something blocking my free will. It wanted me to go inside one of the buildings. Seconds later I feel the same force dragging me towards the A lettered building. 4 windows covered with dust shadow the view from the inside. I can barely make out the structures inside. Obviously everything was abandoned, so the sound of nothingness, not even the wind, was very eery. I arrived to the front entrance. You could clearly see how old everything was. The brick and concrete were beginning to crumble, chunks of rock falling from the building's sides. A large rusty chain was keeping the twin metal doors locked with a simple padlock on them. The rust seemed as though it was severe. A simple pull and the whole thing came apart with the lock on the ground. “How long has this been here?”, i question. Rust shouldn’t have weakened the metal that much. My legs alert me once more and I continue forward march. Through the twin doors, I was in what looked like an old, burned office. There was a receptionists desk in front of me charred black, filing cabinets all around were also charred. Everything in there was burnt to a crisp. There was no smell in there, so this was not recent. I continued up to some metal stairs which made some uneasy noises. Once up there was only one place to go, a conference room of sorts. Charred tables and chairs, but my legs keep me moving. They take me

"You can't keep holding on to stuff like this, James." Natasha sighed, slipping a delicate hand through her hair. "It's not healthy."

“Dad!” Was the only word that had rushed out of Russell’s mouth the instant he saw his father enter the room. And, once he finished hugging Cary he then added, “Have you found him? What did those people you arrested say?”

“I’m going to break you.” She said. “Every single bone in your body and once you recover, I’ll do it again if I have to.”

I don’t get why my sister is sending me here, sending me to rehab. Its not like I have a problem. Ok, I have a slight problem but that doesn’t mean I need to go to rehab for it. She thinks it will help me “get better”. I get so annoyed with her when she says that. All she ever says to me now is do this and you’ll get better, try harder and maybe things would work out. Try harder. You don’t think I’ve tried my whole life to fix the things that are wrong with me. I have. I fought every single day and nothing ever changed. I’m still the same way I was since I was little. I’m still messed up. I know I am but she can’t honestly think that rehab is going to help can she? I highly doubt it.

You never actually said your name out loud to anyone, and I'm not entirely sure how I managed to find it out in the first place. I'm sure it was through the whisper chains you hear every so often in this cafe. You have a soft voice you know, it's barely audible when you say things, it's not quite what I'd call gruff or gritty, it just has this sort of toughness. It's as though you've steadily built up a defence mechanism in your voice so people don't ask you things you'd rather not answer.

It may be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always this bald and beautiful. I, like many other young men, was a victim of a vicious receding hairline. Me being so young, I fell victim to a plethora of cruel jokes, I mean let’s face it, not many sixteen-year-old girls swoon over a young boy with the hairline like their fathers. I was constantly ragged on by family, friends, strangers, and anyone else with a working pair of eyes. Thus, I grew to be very self-conscious about my hairline, or lack thereof. Then that all changed one day with a mirror and a razor. Looking back at it, I can’t help but laugh and smile when I think about the days when all I wanted was a full head of hair.

The information I learned were basic yet so beneficial and effective to anyone and everyone. I’ve learned what to prepare for if I had owned my own center, what to spend my money on, and how to spend my money wisely. The tools taught me how to manage my money successfully and professionally. Even though it required extra work, it is worth it to me, because now I can see what the finances and budgets of a center are being spent on, and the causes and effects of certain financal situations. It taught me to be in control of the spendings and earnings of the canters, and if I want to achieve specific goals pertaining to budgets and finance, I am well aware of how to start it, and reach it. It also taught me to be aware of the comings and goings

One of the worst parts about the camp is choosing where and when to go to the bathroom. During the day, there is a latrine with no privacy whatsoever. The seats sit approximately 1 foot away from each other. The waste just sat at the bottom until emptied by a prisoner that worked at the latrine. My friend worked there so I can go inside first and not have to sit by anyone. At night however, we have to go in a bucket and we aren't allowed to go outside at night. The person who filled the bucket had to empty that and that was an awful job so I go early in the

Have you ever been locked into a room so small that you can feel the walls caving in? A room so small that your personal space no longer exists because it is combined with over twenty other people; they have made somewhat the same foolish decision you have made. Being locked

Being in a locked detention facility can be intimidating. When I first walked through the bright white hallways and was scanned up and down by everyone I passed, I wondered if I could handle it. Even after my initial