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Inner Flame

Extracts from this document...

Introduction

Shabitha Kaneshanathan 9W Inner Flame I wish it would just stop. Stop crying. Its large eyes are constantly following me, wherever I go, lying in its cot, bawling away. I'm too frightened. I can't pick it up. My hands keep quivering every time I go near him. What if something terrible happens? It feels as though history is repeating itself. The same year old baby, the same behaviour, and the same day of the week... Wednesday night, was always the best night of the week for me. It was babysitting night! It loved it, especially in the summer, as I could take them out to play. I had been given the responsibility of looking after young kids and babies, whereas others weren't trusted. I felt so grown up! Their soft skin, little scampering feet, and innocent eyes enchanted me; it was just like watching little angels. The baby that I regularly watched was called Jacob. He was the sweetest thing! His chubby little arms and legs constantly reminded me of the segments of a caterpillar. It was a big treat to have this sense of trust from others. I never forgot to feed the baby and always soothed him off to sleep. I was always there for him. I just can't find the courage in myself to look after my son, after what happened. ...read more.

Middle

In the front, they had black and white sherbet sweets. These reminded me of the horrible darkness people in prison cells live in... My life had been totally flipped around. Babysitting was my life, but it seemed as though now, it was going to be the cause of the end. Next we entered the building. It was a soaring construction, which was swarming with people: criminals, officers and the public. As we entered I could feel my chin beginning to tremble, just like what it feels like when jelly begins to wobble. I couldn't cry, it would seem that I was guilty. I put on a brave face and staggered inside. The grey walls inside made me feel very cold and unwanted. The people in the waiting room seemed very quiet and reserved. A tear gently rolled down my face. A silhouette was moving towards me and when I looked up, the police officer stated that I have been accused of the death of little Jacob! I felt a sudden pang of hurt, rushing through my body. I tried to speak and tell him it wasn't true. I just couldn't clear the fog from my throat. There was no glow from the sun that day. The clouds were closely packed together; my mother and I had an intense chat, about everything that had happened those past few days. ...read more.

Conclusion

It was the most sensible thing to do, as everyone had already labelled me, "the girl involved with the cot death." This was such a hard and tragic thing to do, as it was my love and passion. I was positive that I should keep this all behind me, but that has failed. I'm travelling to the counsellors. Pangs of my nervousness are shooting up and down me. I had left my son, in the caring hands of my babysitter. I am told to take a seat and then we have a very deep conversation with each other. I feel a lot more secure about myself and my baby. "Time does heal." These are the words running though my mind. The sun was hanging like a huge copper gong in the sky today. It looks even brighter, just because I felt happier and more confident in myself. As I turn the door knob, I hear gurgling laughter. It was the first time I had listened to my son laugh! I observed the way the babysitter handled my child. She reminded me a great deal of myself at that age. The way she was holding him, tickling him, he seemed so happy. A jewel of water, dripped down from my eyes... I wanted to overcome this fear. It was childish to be living in the past, when I have a son of my own that needs me a great deal! I went up, and clasped him into my arms! I would never let go of him now... He was mine. ...read more.

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