Creative Writing.
Dear Mrs Robinson,
I know that I’m the last person you would want to hear from right now and that I’ve brought nothing but despair and unhappiness to you and your family, however I would like to try to explain to you what happened all those years ago.
Tom was a kind and generous man who did many favours for me around the house before he went home after work. At first it was just the simple odd job but after a few times, I got used to seeing him. I didn’t really like black people back then but some how he seemed different. I’d grown fond of him and his generosity. I respected him. I liked him. I thought, maybe I was in love with him. I needed his love and attention. I thought that maybe because he always did jobs for me, he might have felt the same. That is why I pretended I needed a job doing that day; I just wanted to know if he felt the same way.
When he realised that I had no jobs for him to do, he wanted to leave; so I had to make a move I had to let him know how I felt. I kept trying to put the words out of mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. So I went ahead and kissed him, but he kept trying to push me off and when he finally did he ran out of the house. I was upset and confused and when I realised my father had saw the kiss I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do. He was drunk, and when he was drunk he was always very difficult to get along with, and most of the time he gets aggressive. I tried to lie to him and tell him that nothing had happened but there is no use trying to fool him, he already saw what happened and he wasn’t very pleased with what he saw. He hated black people and he was very angry to see me kiss one, so he beat me. Furniture got ruined and I had bruises all over my body from where he had used anything he came across to hit me. He wanted me to pay. He wanted Tom to pay for what had happened even though it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want folk to know that his daughter had kissed a Negro, so he bought up the whole story of rape. After he had beaten me, he sat down for a while; he was sitting there thinking, I guess of how he was going to get people to believe the story. So he got up and called the sheriff, and that’s when the whole story started. When the sheriff came over I was forced to lie, if I didn’t I would have got hurt even more. So I went along with the story, in a way I kind of wanted him to be punished because he didn’t feel the same way that I felt. I honestly didn’t want him to die; I didn’t even think he would go to prison.
