I made this composition for English, it's supposed to be an intro of a novel entitled "The Soldier's Story"
Violence is never really my thing, it really isn’t. As a young boy I would shut my eyes during action movies so that I could prevent looking at all those blood and flesh. Even during a Tom And Jerry cartoon, i flinched at an image of Tom’s face being hit by a pan or a steel safe falling of roofs and right on top of him. In reality Tom will either be dead or paralyzed for life. Violence is never my thing. So why on earth did I end up in a situation like this? I watched as my best friend gasping for air, his whole body painted in crimson blood, and I am 100 percent sure that his leg has fallen off somewhere during his desperate attempt to escape. I kneeled next to Nick, his blood trickling to my thigh, gross. Tears roll down his face as I tried to wipe mud and blood from his face. He gasped and sputter, he took a deep breath and he spoke the words which I would never forget
“God damn it Shaun, run!” I didn’t know what to do so I just did what he told me to, I ran. I ran like I had never ran before.
15 years earlier
My face fell splat on the hard pavement as i held back tears. I failed and i started crying like a girl.
“Faggot!” Francis yelled at my ear and spat on me. His followers must had thought it was smart so they copied him. They left me on the ground, even the teacher didn’t care. At least the teacher still had a heart to call my parents. My mum called out to me softly, I didn’t realize I was still stuck to the same position for two hours already.
“Honey, are you okay?” My mother asked softly. I mumbled. I can’t really speak. My lips are bleeding and swollen. My mother picked me up slowly, and put me on her thighs as she took out her handkerchief and cleaned up all my blood. Mother’s handkerchiefs always smell good. She slowly lift me up so that I could stand.
“Can you walk?” She asked with full worry.
“I’m all right, I can walk” I answered when it’s not entirely the truth. My whole body is aching like hell, It hurts just to move a muscle, but I don’t want to be carried. The truth is my mother is not well. I don’t know what kind of sickness she had, but I know ever since that visit from the hospital all she does was sleep in her room. She only comes out when she needs to go to the bathroom. Father warned me not to disturb her or go inside her room, but once with all my courage I sneaked inside the master bedroom. There lies my mother, pale and barely looks like a human. She had lost so much weight, it’s frightening. I barely recognized my mother anymore.
My mother looks like she’s struggling to walk to. I’m scared. Finally we made it home after what seems to be a hundred years. I opened the door for her and she walked inside. She went to her room and i followed. We were both lucky father was not home yet, I tucked my mother in.
“Please son, let me clean your wounds”
“It’s ok mother, I can do it by myself”
“You’re my good son” She whispered then she slowly close her eyes. I tip toed out of the room as quietly as I can and closed the door. Mother died that night.
12 years later
I waited in front of father’s office. Being in front of his office always mean two things. It’s either I’ve done something wrong or something that’s honorable. I didn’t do anything bad lately so this must be an honorable thing. I felt a huge gust of relief, so i bravely knocked on the door. That small gesture was a small start of a big mistake.
“Come in!” Boomed my father’s voice. I began to hear the anger in my father’s voice and trembled as I come in. I should have waited for a few more minutes. I sat on one of the chairs and stared nervously of what kind of trouble I’m in.
“Son, what is this?” He said, dropping a pile of pictures in front of me as he grabs another cigarette and light it. I stared at the pictures in horror. These are the pictures I took during spring break in Malibu. I begged my father to letting me to go, he let me. What I didn’t tell him is that I went with a certain someone. That certain someone’s name was Otto Cooper. He was tall, handsome and dark skinned. Any girls would swoon for him, and apparently boys too. It was a fun break, hitting the beach and meeting new people. Unfortunately one night, things had gone a bit ... wild. Off course our friend Rupert was there thinking that those intimate moments were a perfect chance for him to practice his photography skills.
“Umm” I froze. I didn’t know what to say so it’s best not to say anything.
“What is the meaning of this? I have taught you better than this! What were you thinking boy? You are a disgrace to this family! No, to this whole country!” My father exploded. I had prepared for the worst. I closed my eyes so that I don’t have to see my own blood, but I didn’t feel a kick, a punch, not even a tiny slap. I dared to open my eyes, my father had moved from his desk to the window, looking out.
“If only Sheryl was here.” He sighed quietly. I had never heard my father spoke of mother ever since the night she-
“I am sending you to the military.”
“Pardon?” I asked.
“I am sending you to the military. You will pay your duty to this country by joining the war that is going on out there. I had spoiled you too much, you need to know how to become a man. You leave tomorrow”
I froze on my seat. What happened next was blurry, all I could remember was watching the scenery changed from office buildings, stores and markets to nothing but sand and hills. I’m in hell. The minute I got out of the vehicle I was already yelled at. I don’t know why they’re calling me a maggot. I’m sure maggots are small creatures that turns to bugs as they got older. It made no sense for me for this big guy with a mustache calling me a premature insect, but I just stood there, filling up my whole body with the hatred I have towards my father. I felt numb.
