Screams :: essays research papers

In my mind, it never ends. I can perceive myself screaming and begging him to stop. My two year old son is cover under his bed and shaking because he go to sleeps that Daddy is hurting mum again. My daughter is crying helplessly in her crib. At six months of age, take down she knows that something is wrong. As I stare at the gun through my conceited eyes, I realize that if I make it through the darkness, I prepare to get us out of this house. I have to find a safe place for us to hide. I know the police forget not help me. They never have. All I can do as I wait for his fists to tire is to think back on my life and wonder where it had g oneness wrong.As a child, I was enrolled in the Gifted and Talented program, which is the Texas version of Advanced Placement courses. The Daughters of the American regeneration gave me an award for a genealogy project and my team was the only one in the district that made it to the Odyssey of the Mind state-level competitions. I also compe ted in numerous spelling bees. Between drama class and the National esteem Society, my middle school day and junior high school years were busy, tho fun. In my junior year of high school, I was informed that I was in the Whos Who high school edition. I worked after school and enjoyed volunteering at the hospital in the cancer center in my surrender time. I found myself inspired by their courage and it helped to keep me grounded in my priorities.In 1993, those priorities took a different turn. I realized that I was pregnant. by and by I got marry, I found that the school district frowned upon pregnant students, married or not. I elected to receive my GED and begin college. I was on both the Presidents and Deans List each semester. I was happy with the choices that I had made. Being a wife was a joy and I had a wonderful son. My husbands chisel took him out of town occasionally for a week or two. unrivalled day he came home from a trip, and everything had changed. He was acti ng irrationally and being verbally abusive. He would stay out all night and, when he was at home, nothing could make him happy. I did not know it then, but he had become addicted to drugs and other women.