{[ promptMessage ]}

Bookmark it

{[ promptMessage ]}

Copy of Troubled Youth.pdf

Copy of Troubled Youth.pdf - Anastasia Kingsborough Eng 167...

Info iconThis preview shows pages 1–3. Sign up to view the full content.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
Anastasia Kingsborough Eng 167 Dr. Brown 22 November 2017 Troubled Youth I will repeat this as many times as I can: I am not a bad person. I’m not the type of high school freshman that parties and drinks their misery away. I don’t actively seek trouble, but I feel that trouble seeks out me. Trouble came in the form of a quiet, fifteen year old girl. There were no noticeable signs at first, she seemed like your typical teenage girl -- full of angst and disdain towards her parents. I didn’t know that there was a deeper, darker secret hidden behind those beautiful, ocean eyes of hers. It was nearing the end of summer vacation and a cold breeze slipped through the crack in my window, sending chills throughout my body. It was enough to wake me up just as the sun was rising, but what prompted me to get out of bed was the absence of my golden retriever, Lucille. Normally, she’d be asleep at my bedside, eager to jump on top of me once I’d woken up. I remember creeping around the house, looking in the cracks and crevices to find her. When I realized she wasn’t home, I slipped out of the house, trying not to wake my parents. The front of my house faces the Shenandoah river, resulting in my room facing miles of green, uncharted forestry. I followed the man-made trail that led me to the heart of the forest. It was always quiet, only having the noises of nature momentarily interrupting its peace, but something about that morning’s silence was different; it felt as if it was holding its breath. My innate human curiosity had kicked in, prompting me to investigate what was so different about
Background image of page 1

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
that certain morning. I followed the trail until it cut off. As I was about to turn around and continue looking for Lucille, I heard a branch break a few yards in front of me. There, in a makeshift tent surrounded by tattered blankets and old Pringle cans, I saw her, Veronica, for the first time. I figured out why the air was so hesitant that morning -- she was hiding. I did not know who or what she was hiding from but I knew it had to be something terrifying since we were both frightened by each other's presence. She looked at me from the old, army-green tent she was inhabiting with sad, tearful eyes and then quickly turned her face.
Background image of page 2
Image of page 3
This is the end of the preview. Sign up to access the rest of the document.

{[ snackBarMessage ]}