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Personal Narrative: Rufus's Father

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I soon came to the realization that my left arm was not going to come out of the wall with ease, or for that matter, out of the wall at all. The drywall came apart without thought, crumbling to the touch; as the chalky smell became overwhelming along with the sulfur scent of my warm flowing blood that was still draining from my veins and therefore my arm with every strenuous thought and memory. I felt drowsy and light, almost weightless as I was losing what had to be pints of blood by the minute. The remainder of the plastered sides became thin and dark, wet to the touch and dissipating. Seemingly, I was able to remove every piece of spackled wall except around the peripheries of my arm. As I looked at Kevin, reality began to blur in and out …show more content…

How could I become the person I flied from for the protection of my own life? I became Rufus’s father. Even worse than him, because rufus had his guard up to his father. I remember Rufus even hid me from his father and saved me from harm. His morals as a child and everything a black person stood for to him and his father was not exemplified in his actions towards me. He respected me for the most part. Apologized when he knew he did me wrong. I became the only thing good in his life, the only thing left in his life other than his children. And then I left to. Just like his children he drove away in order to prove his power to Alice. The difference between me and Rufus is that he did not mean to drive alice to death, but I, knowingly and in the right frame of mind, drove that knife into Rufus; not once, but twice. The tears were now dripping down my face as I allowed myself to repress back Rufus and the plantation and everything from 1815 and beyond. I was in the moment. I refused to look at Kevin. With all of the remainder of my might, I started to pull my arm out. As I did so, I began to lose consciousness, but not from the pain of my wound, but from something …show more content…

I knew I was back at the weylin plantation. It was fully rebuilt and the owner was Joe. It was the little boy now a fully grown man, hair now revealing his age with the grey hairs protruding from his head, staring at me in anticipation. Rufus’s son was towering over my week body, his eyes raging though he said nothing to me. As I began to get up, he pushed me down. I was confused at why he was acting this way, and then I remembered… his father was dead and I was the one who killed him. Now I presumably had the same relationship with his son. Was I to protect his as I was his father? Or was I going to die the same as his father for retaliation. The question eating away at me was which of the two destinies I was to face. Either option was an unbearable fate to

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