The Break-in u/Scorpshee I haven’t talked to anyone about this before, only my husband, when he asked me about it earlier this week. Its a story about my brother and I, and the people who broke into our home. I was 21, and home for the first time in four years. I had just graduated from university, and was staying with my parents until I found a job. One evening, when my parents were out of town for the weekend, I was home alone with my younger brother Tommy. He was 14 at the time, and had come home from seeing a movie with his friends. We ordered a pizza, and spent most of the evening relaxing and chatting. We went to be around 11:00, but at about 3:00am, I woke up to hear Tommy whispering my name. “Zoe! Wake up!” I rolled over to look at him. This was going on in the middle of summer, so we had our bedroom window open, and from the glow of the streetlight coming …show more content…
The cops arrived, and calmed me down enough to take my statement my parents were called, and came home the next day. All of us were brokenhearted over Tommy, who got stabbed just for trying to help me. The following years were hard. I was in therapy for a year afterwards, and every anniversary of the event, I think over what happened. The reason my husband asked me about it was, years later after I had begun to date and finally married, I saw a news story about two robbers arrested not far from where we live. The report mentioned it was two men, dressed in black, who had robbed a home and tried to kill one of the owners. The reporter said the third man, who had worn a skull mask over his face, had never been caught. I had started panicking at this, and eventually told my husband all about what had happened. He knew my brother had died, and that it had been during an attempted robbery, but not much else. He held me for the rest of the night, and did his best to comfort me. We still don’t know who Skull Guy was, or where he is, but I’m on the lookout for him to this
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I told them that the man who murdered her was my cousin. They asked me how I knew details of the murder. I told them that when my cousin arrived he was acting strange and I asked him what was wrong and he explained everything. That was not completely a lie, he did tell me everything, it was just not as smooth as I had told him.
My mother had made eggs and toast for breakfast. Me and my brother ate as fast as we could because we wanted to see our favorite show SpongeBob. As we turned on the T.V. the news channel was on from the night before. On the news was breaking news about a serial killer. It showed 3 dead bodies the whole family was dead and the kid was missing.
My brother brought his BB gun, as well as my cousins. The next morning, My brother, cousins, and I decided to wake up early to go explore the campground. We saw a bridge and decided to cross it. When I reached the end of the bridge, I fell in a hole and landed in a creak under the bridge. When everyone came to help me up we all went exploring along the creak a little while after the incident.
It was October 23rd. Our entry for the second annual pumpkin contest was due within the week. My brother, TJ, wanted to build a large trebuchet that could shoot a flaming pumpkin this year. I laughed and told him I 'd sleep on it. The next morning, I felt myself shaking.
This psychological assignment requires us to break a social norm. In my case, I decided to break an appearance social norm. I thought in something weird, but at the same time really funny. Therefore, I entered to my little walking closet and I took the most brilliant and extravagant high heels shoes that I found to wear them at a place when people usually used flip flops.
On September 8, 2008 I arrived to the hospital at six o 'clock in the morning to get induced to have my first daughter due to a blood clot I had in my leg. The nurses first told me to change into a gown. Shortly after they hooked me up to the monitors to hear the baby moving all around. Also to track her cute little heartbeat. Another one was to monitor my contraction and watch them on the screen.
When I was in kindergarten, I did not have friends; my highs and lows oscillated on the approval of others who understood me even less than I did myself. For picture day, I remember being happy to wear my favorite shirt: a Strawberry Shortcake blouse with ruched sleeves. A girl deprecatingly told me I looked like a little kid. I never wore the shirt again. Although I already felt like an outsider, the situation worsened when I moved from Las Vegas to Hawaii.
When I was eight, my family could not believe what I was doing to my nanny on the way to Gatlinburg. My family and I begin to scavenge our belongings to place in my mother 's car, my anxiety and excitement begins to rise. We all start to swarm in the vehicle and to my recollection, I notice the sun beginning to ascend over the horizon. My mother stomped on the gas pedal to accelerate the car forward out of our driveway onto the road. In the car, my parents occupy the front driver and passenger seats, my brother sits next to the window behind my mother and I sit behind my father, which leaves the middle seat for my nanny to take up.
Since my fourteenth birthday my life has been a series of perfect catastrophes. An outsider would unquestionably deem my life desirable, although nonetheless average. Since fourteen I’ve appeared to have it all; and if you look the part you’re halfway there, right? I say this because people who don’t know me very well will likely describe me as “pretty, popular, and smart,” which are all great attributes to have, but the outside doesn’t always match the inside. I’m not going to tell you I was utterly miserable from the day I entered teenhood because if I did I’d be lying, and wouldn’t that be an awful way to introduce myself to the individuals who hold the power to better my life for the next four years?
I went home and started my plan to find this person who framed me. I was ready to give up my everything to catch this one person who made my life horrible. I was trying to think of the best possible way to catch this person when I thought, I should just camp out by that old barn again. The killer has to come back at one point to either collect the body or meet his other henchman in the crime. I decided to pack a bag and get ready to stake out the old barn one more time.
It took them a whole month before i could go before a judge. I was sitting in my cell waiting for the correctional officer to come get me. I was ready to be outside these damn walls. Being here for over a month was killing me, I was missing out on my money and I haven't been getting no pussy. I mean there was some correctional officers that liked fucking inmates, but I didn’t feel right stepping out on Carmen
Me and my family decided to go to San Antiano for a weekend. We went during the summer and it was a long ride. While we where there we went to the cavarners. We where all packing, my mom was in her 's and my dad 's room packing. I was helping and getting ready to leave.
The criminal lay on the thin, hard, bed, his feet dangling over the edge by several inches. The moonlight that filtered through the bars of his cell lay in patches on his torso, hands, and floor. The criminal’s beady eyes fixed on the door as the distinct stomp of a guard approached. The viewing slot on the top of the door slid open and the convict’s least favorite guard leered at him. It was obvious by the jailer’s gormless smile, bloodshot eyes and his stench-- reeking of cheap alcohol, that the idiot was drunk.
Going through a traumatizing event can be stressful and show you what you are made of. These are things I went through the day I got hit by a car. I learned many lessons that day and the days to follow. I learned the true meaning of friendship, strength, and endurance. I thought I knew the meaning of all these things until that tragic day.