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Lives Changed. Will my mum go to prison?

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Fleming Nina Fleming Ted Hazelgrove Composition I ENG 151 September 26th 2012 Lives Changed ?Will my mum go to prison?? I knew the answer to that question, the gravity of the situation I understood even though I was only thirteen. I felt like I was dreaming, not just dreaming but swimming in this nightmare not able to see through a thick jelly like soup. The grey haired, spectacled policeman couldn?t answer me; either he didn?t want to because he could see a crumpled thirteen year old in front of him, or he was just being stuffy and unhelpful. Maybe he just did not know what to say to me - he was trained to catch the bad guys after all, not console young girls. It began as a normal August day, my sister and I were at home off school for the summer. As a teenager I was slightly but not completely oblivious to the problems my parents had. They were after all always arguing and had been more so recently, and that day was no different. Frequently as a child I would wake to hear the sound of arguing and plates being thrown around, but I didn?t give it a second thought as it was strangely normal to me. Like a silent movie I never spoke about my home life to anyone - thinking that my peers would think of me differently almost like a leper. ...read more.


It reminded me of my Grandfathers workshop, he was carpenter and would use all kinds of wood and oil in his work, and it had been around since he was a child. As I forced myself to dial the numbers time seemed to pause. Nine?I watched the dial get back into position before I could dial the second emergency number ..nine?and then the third?nine. As I sat there, I wondered ?How do I tell the person at the end of the phone what has happened? How do I get those solemn words out? Somehow, I did it; I managed to tell the voice at the end of the line that I needed an ambulance and the police. ? I wondered what she was thinking having to send them out to this sleepy little village where nothing ever happens. At this point I felt a certain amount of indifference to what was going on upstairs and went and sat out in the garden until the policeman came and got me. I was in my own world, I didn?t hear the sirens of the police cars or the ambulances; and it was still the nice sunny afternoon in the park, sitting on the old oak tree again. Seeing my crushed mother being led away was heartbreaking. My mum although small in stature was formidable to me, she could just give me one look and I knew. She had a tone of voice and a way of saying things that could be very dispiriting, when she thought we could do better. ...read more.


Being only thirteen I could not drive so I biked the four or five miles to the hospital by myself. I was the only person that had gone to visit with her. Her panic stricken face dissolved in relief when she saw me, she was no longer the formidable lady I had once known to be my mother, but a woman who was defeated by years of physical and verbal abuse. A sense of unclutteredness came over me like when you first jump in an empty swimming pool and all you can hear is the bubbles and see the clear blue water. The constant fighting, the arguing I knew what it had all been about. My mum? she was worried about me, who was taking care of me, feeding me ?.typical mum stuff, but she needed my help now. She did in fact go to prison for what she did, she was given a three year sentence, reduced to six months, and eventually quashed. My father repenting for his actions, was the person who advocated getting her out of prison. My mum really was no danger to anyone. Naturally, she had lost her nursing job at the hospital and her self-esteem had nosedived. However, twenty five years later my parents are still married; I scratch my head and wonder why sometimes. I came to the conclusion that they deserve each other, they are like a couple of old gargoyles on a church- they look miserable next to each other but remain permanently stuck in the same position and will remain so for the rest of their lives. ...read more.

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