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Writing From Life

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Writing From Life I couldn't even look her in the eye. Not after what I'd done. What she'd done. Being part of a big family was difficult, but you always had someone to talk to, but not this time. I was generally closest to Rabia. She was two years younger than me, and to her, everything was simple and had a simple answer. I think that's why we were so close. She was always great if you had a problem, or needed help. She was also fun to be with, making up games that people would normally call childish, but because she made them up, they were 'cool'. It was because everyone saw her as cool. She always got the best grades, and she had this really sweet, persuasive smile. Her hair was cut into a short bob, and she was what most would define as a tomboy; but those of us who properly knew her, knew better. She spent an age making sure her hair was covered with Herbal Essences conditioner when she washed it, and although she was only thirteen, she put on make-up to create that 'it-took-me-no-time-at-all-to-get-ready' look. Despite of her teenage antics, she was still the baby, my mother's baby, but she acted the most adult. Of course she still played children's games, but she was very levelheaded, and never petty. ...read more.


Holding me in her arms. I was probably about seven, and I had just had an argument with Laila and she had made me cry. I remember thinking to myself, 'don't let mum know we had a fight. She'll just get mad.' I still remember the joy I felt tingling inside when she walked over to me, picked me up, and sat me on her lap. The smell of her lavender perfume as she held me in her bosom. The feel of her soft woollen cardigan. The look of her warm face and eyes. I never really knew how or what Laila thought, so I couldn't really judge how she was acting, however, at that moment I felt like hitting Rabia. I knew it wouldn't help the situation, but maybe mum wouldn't have left if she had kept whatever she was feeling bottled up inside. Just for a while. I felt so ashamed of myself. Of my sisters. It was like I had stepped outside of my body and was watching the miserable scene. I looked so pathetic, doing nothing, just stealing glances at the others to see what they were doing, just looking at my feet. I could feel the tang of the metallic-acidic taste of nervous vomit at the back of my throat. It was ridiculous. Nothing even slightly nauseating had happened, and yet somehow, I was going to throw up. ...read more.


"From now on do as you like. You're all just lodgers in this house. I just feed you, clothe you, and drive you to school. That's it. If you want, stay out 'till midnight. I don't care. It's your lives, and you're your own people." That scared me. She's always told us off, but now she didn't care. I didn't like it. She was talking calmly as if all that had happened was normal. Completely and totally normal. As much as I hated the yelling, I hated the serenity more. She was angry. Irate, even. She was supposed to shout. There were four of us in the room, and yet it felt so empty. "I'm going for a drive. Make yourselves dinner," she said in a tone I couldn't understand. It wasn't normal and calm, but it wasn't angry either. I couldn't decipher it. As she left the room, we all just stood there, silent and motionless, like the wretched creatures we were. I wanted to go over to Rabia in her corner and pull her out of it to comfort and protect her, as I knew Zaina would to me; but I couldn't. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything, especially with Laila around. We had caused this trouble, and yet Rabia and mum were paying for it. Who knew when mum would be back? Would she even be back tonight? All because of Laila and I. I couldn't even look her in the eye. Not after what I'd done. What she'd done. What we'd done. Sadia Sapsard 10B.2 ...read more.

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