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 Original Writing

     Step by step, walking as slowly as possible, I approached the front door of this dismal building I called my home. Pushing the door open I slipped inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. As my father peered round the corner the look on his face was of deepest disgust. I kept my head down and swiftly made my way towards the stairs. I closed my eyes just willing him to disappear, just wishing he had something nice to say for once. Anger however pulsed through my every vein as my father barked insults at me, reducing me to nothing but a mere shadow.

    Lying in bed I clenched my fists as different thoughts flickered through my mind leaving me in the depths of confusion and rage. What was making my father so angry? Why did I not understand? A tear ran down my cheek as I examined the bruises on my arm. Childhood memories of happiness paraded before my eyes as my father smiled and sounds of laughter could be heard from a distance. The smiles quickly faded however as the sounds of laughter were drowned by screams. Flashing lights were growing closer and closer as several car horns beeped loudly. Tyres scraped across the ground and in the mist of confusion a crash and a jolt and there I was lying in my bed, taking deep, steady breaths as my heart thumped rapidly.

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    Tuesday morning and time for school. As I grabbed my keys, ready to leave, my father took hold of the back of my shirt. For a moment my heart raced as I waited for him to take action. The bottle of vodka fell from his grasp and smashed to the floor and his eyes read pure loathing as he glared at me, stumbling backwards trying to regain his balance. I hurriedly took hold of my bag and darted out the door, gulping in the cool chill of the November air.

    School was a drag. I sat ...

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