All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Death Was Staring Me Straight in the Face
When I brought my eyes to the end of my bed, Brett was standing there, hands grasping the bar, with what looked like a tight, firm grip. His eyes were forced shut, his eyebrows almost overlapping his eye lids. His teeth were clenched, and he was breathing heavily. I watched the up and down motions his shirt made, from his breathing, and it was awfully fast. I could almost hear growling in this throat, but I couldn’t be so sure. Was he mad? In pain? I let my mouth open, just a crack, and began breathing through my mouth. In the pit of my stomach, something was churning. Like a cauldron full of emotions, about to boil over. Inside the pot was a mixture of guilt, a dash of worry, a flake of sadness, a spoonful of excitement and a heap of anxiety. My hand flew over my stomach, as if to put an end to the cooking.
“B-” I began to say his name, but before I could even get the next letter out, his hand shot up. His eyes cracked slowly, and his head tilted upward an inch or so, in order to look at me. He brought his hand back to the bar of my bed, and began to speak.
“What do you intend to do with my brother?” His voice was defensive. I gulped down the spit that was collecting in my mouth. I felt a heart beat in my stomach, and I was at a loss for words. I bit my lip, and my eyes shot around the room, as if there would be an answer with the quiet spider in the corner. When my eyes reached the colorful spider, my eyes widened and I looked away.
“W-what do you mean Brett? I don’t understand.” I admitted. I tried to keep calm, by taking slow, deep breaths. My mind was searching for an answer, hidden so deep in my brain.
“I mean, why were you trying to force secrets out of him? What kind of information do you need!?” His voice was raised so loud, it sounded as if he were yelling at me. I felt defensive. It was time to put my brick wall up, not letting him get to me. My mouth was open, eyes squinted, and my eyebrows low on my head. I realized I looked dumbfounded, rather than the emotion I wanted to show: Anger. I composed my posture, sitting upright, my arms folded over my chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just asking him why something weird was happening, and I wanted to know the truth. Is that so bad?” I spat at him. He looked taken aback. His head pulled back, and his face borrowed the dumbfounded look I was previously wearing. He must have realized the same thing I had, and reformed his look. He rolled his eyes to the back of his head, and puffed out his chest. I almost giggled at how ridiculous he looked, but I kept my dignity.
“Actually, it is. See, you have no right to know about our family secrets, and I don’t want to hear anything from you about this again! You hear me?” He barked. My jaw dropped. I was shocked that this guy, who seemed very polite in the beginning, could be such a control freak. My brick wall was still standing strong, while the big bad wolf tried with all his might to knock it down.
“No. I don’t hear you. You can’t tell me what and what not to do with your brother. It concerns me and him! You don’t need to get involved! And another thing, I’m 17 and I can take care of myself!” I hollered. His eyes became huge and his hands balled into fists. He rushed over to my bedside and grabbed my wrists. I tugged my hands away as hard as I could, but he didn’t budge or loosen his grip. He only made it tighter. “Let go of me!” I ordered. He chuckled and shook his head.
“Now, Lizzie, you brought this on yourself. Why blame someone else for your problems?” He said softly, with false politeness. My heart beat with anger, the bad emotions traveling down all of my blood streams, like an overflowing river. A large, menacing smile overtook Brett’s face. I huffed out a breath and yanked my hands. He giggled. “My dear Elizabeth, you’re not going to escape my grasp. You’re going to sit here until you promise me you’ll stay away from my brother. Now, if you shouldn’t, Well, let’s just say something terrible may happen. So, why not just promise now?” His eyes were sympathetic, but I saw past his phony care. His smile had vanished when he saw my head shaking back and forth, my lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I won’t stop talking to your brother. He’s my friend, and whatever he wants to tell me, I’m all right with hearing it. You’re not my boss, and if you threaten me again, I’ll scream for help.” I barked. I always despised being pushed around. I was my own person, and I was not about to take orders from someone who was less than three years older than me!
Brett’s nostrils flared, and his eyes shot open. The little red veins, floating in the white, around his pupil, seemed to be more announced, the purple ones in his arms, bulging and pulsing. He grasped my wrists with all his might and began breathing heavier than anyone I’d ever seen. His shirt bounced up and down rapidly, and now I really heard growling throughout his whole body. “Listen! Last time someone disobeyed me, bad things happened! Do you want that to happen to you? Or your family? Leave my brother alone! You don’t need to know what is wrong with our family!” He yelled. I gulped. My throat felt clogged with fear. My breath sped up and I sank back into the pillow. I reconsidered what I was doing. I was letting him tear down my wall. I had to break his down, and build mine back up. Before I could restrain myself, I leaned my head to his hand, and sunk my teeth into his tender skin. A cracking noise rushed to my ears, and I knew I could let go.
“Arg!” He yelled. He didn’t retaliate yet, and I figured maybe he’d release me.
“Let go of me!” I cried. I untangled my legs from under the sheets, and forced one to his stomach. He clutched himself, and gagged. I realized now was my chance to run. I sprung from my bed and raced for the exit of the room. Before I reached the heavy oak door, Brett caught me and tugged my arms behind my back with more force than necessary. “Ow!” I yelled. “Why are you doing this?” I was shaking in pain and terror. My knees felt as if they’d collapse under me. I tried to yank myself from his grasp, but he was inhumanly strong. I knew what I had to do now. The only way to save myself.
“Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I prayed silently that someone would dash in and arrest Brett. I heard nothing in the halls resembling a run. I began to fret. What would Brett do to me? Surely he didn’t mean it when he said that bad things will and have happened.
“Now you’re going to get me in trouble you crazy girl! Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to scream?” He scolded. All of a sudden, I felt a large gust of air, and saw the room spinning above me. My body crashed to the floor, my head smashing against something hard and metal. I gasped for air, but nothing would enter my tubes. I felt a stabbing pain in my head, and it fell to the side, without any control. I tried, with all the strength I had, which wasn’t much, to lift my head. I failed. My eyes flashed open wildly, as I saw a puddle of a red substance around my face. It oozed down to my fingers, and the texture was wet and sticky. Without being able to lift my head, the liquid brushed my lips, that were touching the ground. It tasted like iron. I gasped and the room spun faster and faster yet. What was happening? My brain went into overload and my eyes scanned the room nervously for a communication device of any kind. There was a phone across the room, but there was no way of getting there. The taste of the blood on my chapped lips, was saltier than ever before. The smell of it made my insides churn. I gagged, and a chill went up my spine. I slammed my eyes shut, begging for it all to be over. I heard a muffled, loud voice saying, “Oh no! I’ve got to get out of here!” And the door slammed, too loud for my tender ears.
I figured I was going to die, lying here in a pool of blood, while it gushed from my head every second. My eyes began closing slowly. I tried to keep them open, but dying, I found, grasped so much energy from inside of your body. Right before my eyes closed for their last time, Paul’s face appeared, and he seemed to mouth, “It’s okay.” And I knew it was. I couldn’t stop my death, no matter what I did. I decided not to fight it. I allowed my eyes to close, without so much struggle.