My Evil
He reminded me of evil. Something that pulls you in and you can't resist it. That’s evil, and everything about him was irresistible, at that moment. He brought me down and I didn't have the strength or courage to get back up. I look above and see the gray, cracked ceiling that looked unstable, but safe. The smells around me consisted of laundry soap- the kind my mother hated but still got because it was the best deal. I hear nothing but the cracked conversations that we try to withhold 

but fail. So I say nothing, and the silence continues. Even when evil tried to fill my head with words, I crumble them up and discard them as quickly as possible without saying anything in return. I can't relate a memory in my past to this event, because I can't think back to a time where I felt so many hurtful emotions at once. I feel the hot air continuously breathe over my sensitive skin creating a suffocated environment around me. The air becomes hazy and every breath I take is somewhat of a challenge. 

I pictured him to be someone else, I pictured myself to be somewhere else, somewhere safe where I didn't have to be afraid to live and make mistakes. Evil, as I would like to call him didn't show emotion- or sympathy for that matter. I didn't show emotion but the sympathy was floating in the tears that I wiped away so the emotion that I wanted to show was invisible. Even if those tears were to fall and even if he were to ask me if I was alright-I would show no emotion and silently nod my head. Because that was the effect evil had on me; as strong as I imagined myself to be... he was ten times stronger and I fell. But I didn't resist it, nor did he retrain. 
The consequences for this moment in time were beyond repair for me. Trusting in someone is a faint option, believing in myself is a struggle, and faith that there is something better out there for me isn't a possibility. The aftermath of this incident is irreparable internally for me, but for evil- I’m sure he recovered. The truth is, I’m not fully recovered. My first time meeting and experiencing evil, I was and still am 15 year olds. It came, passed through and broke me. I'm procrastinating picking up the pieces because the strong girl I thought I was is lingering deep down inside of me waiting for someone to pick her up out of the darkness that evil embedded her in. 
I'm unsure of what the future will bring, but the truth is that I’m scared of life because eventually evil will come back and it will break me again. However, if it doesn't come back, the events that took place will forever replay in my mind because evil is unforgivable and the memories are not disposable. And these memories will forever hold me back from trusting, forgiveness, courage, strength and faith. Evil will forever be remembered, no matter what- it will never allow me to gain my strength back.

    Comments:
     
    Caterpillar   Caterpillar wrote
    on 10/7/2010 9:04:06 PM
    I agree with Sukie, but will add that I see that the narrator is stronger than she knows for she is aware of the obstacles and their potential in her future. I've a history of acquaintances with evil, and at 46 years old, I still have those memories, but now they are not alone in my head. With them, over burdening them, are hundreds of memories of joys, successes, struggles and strife overcome again and again... I hope you keep writing this narrator's views as they grow with the passing of time... as the observer, the writer, the narrator may surprise you.

    SUKIE   SUKIE wrote
    on 4/9/2010 6:59:06 AM
    I think this is a great writing. Please don't be scared of life. You are seeing all these things for several reasons. "Trusting in someone is a faint option, believing in myself is a struggle..." and you said it right.

    MoeP
    Short Story
    Romance
    writing MoeP
    "When you hold someone, hold them like it's the last time you'll ever see them. And when they go, don't make reasons for them to stay, only reasons for them to return"
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    Synopsis
    In British literature class, we had to do an assignment called "truth paper". Our teacher told us to "write our truths". And said nothing after that. So what i wrote about- was myself. I kept it classroom appropriate so the things I really wanted to say, i didn't. So i would like to redo it on here.
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