Orignal Writing Coursework

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Fryer-Original Writing Coursework

The emotions got too much for her and she had to do it.

It had been going on for years, ‘The Outings,’ well that’s what their mother used to call them when I used to see my sisters carted off into different stranger’s cars.  From a young age she had been taught how she was to perform and to the standard she had to exceed.  She had seen her sisters go through the same thing and as she was the youngest she only knew too well what was expected.

Her first time came and she was nervous.  It was only natural, but Caryn had a hard time concealing it.  Her hands were clammy and no matter how much water she drank, her throat still stayed dry.  Ever since their father had died when Caryn was only three, the way to survive was this.  She had just had her 14th birthday the week before.  That meant D-day had come and it was now her time to shine.

She knew that preparation was the key to success.  Her mother came in her room and asked her to sit on the dressing room table, so she could teach the basics.  Caryn stared at the same spot on her mother’s chin so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact, it was too shameful.  For Caryn, any mother capable of doing this to her child was no mother.  ‘Today’s your day of giving back to the family and proving your love for us.  If you really loved us you’d only be too happy for this opportunity to help your dear mother and your sisters.  Your sisters and I have slaved the past years to put food in your mouth and clothes on your back.  You understand that don’t you?’  It took a while for her to take in what was being said.  It was like her mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out.  Then the same question was asked, only louder, ‘YOU UNDERSTAND, DON’T YOU?’  Stunned by how long it took her to answer her mother waiting Caryn replied, ‘Yes,’ in a sheepish voice whilst looking away.  To her there were no questioned raised, so no answers were given.

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Caryn finished applying her red lipstick and black eyeliner that her mother had given her to wear from her sister’s collection and went to her mother’s bedroom where her clothes were put.  Somehow, the smothered make-up didn’t add years onto her complexion, she just looked lost.  She looked at the short black skirt she had to wear.  When she tired it on the rim of the skirt hardly covered her knickers and clung rebelliously to her thighs.  The black top hung loosely on her flat chest.  She went to the mirror and stood there staring, she looked even more ...

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