Lives Changed. Will my mum go to prison?

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Nina Fleming     Ted Hazelgrove

Composition I    ENG 151   September 26th 2012

Lives Changed

“Will my mum go to prison?”

I knew the answer to that question, the gravity of the situation I understood even though I was only thirteen. I felt like I was dreaming, not just dreaming but swimming in this nightmare not able to see through a thick jelly like soup. The grey haired, spectacled policeman couldn’t answer me; either he didn’t want to because he could see a crumpled thirteen year old in front of him, or he was just being stuffy and unhelpful. Maybe he just did not know what to say to me - he was trained to catch the bad guys after all, not console young girls.

It began as a normal August day, my sister and I were at home off school for the summer. As a teenager I was slightly but not completely oblivious to the problems my parents had. They were after all always arguing and had been more so recently, and that day was no different. Frequently as a child I would wake to hear the sound of arguing and plates being thrown around, but I didn’t give it a second thought as it was strangely normal to me. Like a silent movie I never spoke about my home life to anyone - thinking that my peers would think of me differently almost like a leper. These thoughts dissipate as you get older and you come to realize that for the most part there is no normal.

My sister was eighteen at the time about to leave for University in the fall. She was going as far away as she could possibly get, the University of Plymouth a seven hour drive from us - the opposite end of the country. She was home that day wearing her new retro fifties style skirt and top, it had big blue flowers on it and stuck out in a bee bop style, she was going through a vintage phase at the time. I didn’t care for outfits like that; I liked my tomboy look - jeans and a yellow sweater. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would never see those clothes again after the events of that day unfolded.

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We were told, almost forced, to go out for a walk to the park which was unusual but we didn’t mind. It had been an unusually hot and dry summer for England, the grass was brown from lack of summer rain; it was dry and crunchy underfoot. My sister and I did everything we could to pass the whole afternoon.

We had been gone as long as we possibly could; we were starting to get hungry as the shadows of the great oak trees grew long. We sat on the bough of one particular old oak tree that hung low ...

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