Adriana’s Horrific History Lightening forked across the sky, darkness gloomed in the winter night of 2012. Adriana forced herself to revise for her GCSE Sociology examination, which she was expected to take early. Papers lurked across the distraught, damaged and dreadful laminated flooring, notes covered her walls leaving no space to been seen behind them. She was determined to get an A*; she was extremely bright as Adriana placed great importance on her studies and examinations. Her pale skin made her venetian red lips sustainably horrifying. Adriana’s thick, dark hair was diminished in strength; it fought for freedom against her. The tough wind broke into her room shattering the superannuated glass, clearing the unorganised papers into the corners of the room. The only bulb dimly lightening her room, flickering rapidly barely having any frivolous purpose was on its last volts. She muttered under her breath, “Damn, revision must be completed!” while writing the last line on the page of her note’s. Suddenly, flashbacks haunted her of her childhood bullying incidents at primary school. Her psychotic behaviour pushed class mates further and further away from her. Her abnormal behaviour was getting worse as she grew older. She remembered her overweighed, outrageous and extremely large body, as a cold breeze passed her, drifting the childhood away, but bringing the unpleasant and parsimonious parent’s abuse. “Mum…dad…mum…dad… MUM! DAD!” repeated their names aggressively, as she threw her handwritten revision sheets angrily off of her damp, disastrous desk. Putting her hand on her head, rehearsing through the memory of her dad: darkness, chains, shouting, locking, hitting, slapping, beating, starving, leaving gruesome busies and scares, that reveal torture from her skin. Adriana pulled her sleeve’s up, to look at her scar, then remembered the awful incidence at school, she had trouble making friends, fitting in, which cause bullying at school, by the so called “Mean Teens”, the bullies. “fatty”, “chubby”, “shorty”, “midget” were her regular names. Having obsessive expulsive disorder (OCD) made it difficult for her to see her stationary untidy and unorganised in front of her; therefore her mission was to successfully order all her objects neatly. “Why…why me?...WHY? … WHHHYYYY?” she yelled screaming loudly, trying to forget, quickly, while covering her ears. “Why are you here, shouldn’t you be going home now?” asked her teacher, in a shock, as Adriana was in the corner of the hall, in a tight ball, but she always replied, “don’t want to do home”, as she was shivering in the cold. This made her insecure
and tears rolled down her soft, white face, filling her eyes with water, forcing her not to release her mental tension, she squeezed her eyes tightly. Swallowing her pain, her heart burning, losing its strength, as her lips shaking with tension; tears rolled down her face. She slowly got up, putting her enormous bag on her shoulder and walking toward the school’s main exit gate, facing down with no clue where she was going, thinking of what her teacher had said. She looked up, stopped and waited for the bus to arrive. Adriana forced the flashbacks to stop and occupied herself for her future examination. She knew she had to stop because the consequences were terribly dramatic causing her to mentally damage her brain. Trying to work and revise to achieve the best grades, trying to accomplish her targets, not remembering the past; what has gone, is gone. It won’t come back. However, she was afraid that history might repeat itself. Tiding the papers into a neat pile, lifting the papers with her both weak hands, to organise her school bag. Her heart was numb, no feelings, she was shaking, tiring to keep herself warm by rubbing her hands together rapidly. The wind was howling outside, the rain rattled on the window panes, Adriana was on her important topic. It was silent. Suddenly, she heard a loud noise outside. She went to the window and stared out for a few seconds and closed the windows gently. Nothing was to be seen. As Adriana walked towards her desk, quietly, without, making a noise, in absolute silence, she pulled a chair towards her and sat herself down on the soft, smooth and silky seat. She was thinking about who, or what was there, outside. Without warning, a sharp but small stone flew in. The window smashed, leaving glass scattered across the entire floor. Even though the rock was small, it did excessive damage. Adriana went to pick the crystal rock and gazed out of the window to see who it was. She had no clue. She was confused, worried and scared, her imagination taking over, suspecting many people. Could it be…? Her own father?! She turned her head facing the grandfather’s clock behind her, gazing at the time that the clock presented. She was stuck, confused at what should be done, was it right to open the door or not? Suddenly, she heard a key, twisting. Then a voice spoke out directly to Adriana, “Adriana darling, I am back”. She put together a plan in her mind, it had to work. Otherwise the past will repeat itself. She could not suffer it again, the torturous beating again. She put the heaviest objects in front of the door to make it difficult to open, piled on top of each other. She thought to herself, that this must work and her dad will leave and will not be able to enter the house. She ran up the stairs as fast
and quietly as she could, listening to the key twist in the door lock repeatedly. She was panicking; Adriana had to figure something out, to make this stop. She wished her grandmother was here, keeping her safe through all this. She forced herself not to feel sympathetic for herself. Running on her tiptoes; making a lot of noise on the ragged floor boards. She made her way to the kitchen. She glared at the equipment available to her, selfdefence was her only options; an extremely sharp knife should do the job. She picked it up, griping it tightly in her coldblooded hands. She knew what to do; she could not live in patronising fear thinking that he will come back. Her fought of her past was mentally damaging her, Adriana was certain about her decision. She knew exactly what had to be done. Making her way out the kitchen, she realised that the window was completely, wide open, making it accessible for anyone to enter. Her heart was pounding, was her criminalminded father currently inside the house? She slammed each window shut tightly. Suddenly complete silence raged in the entire house. Her heart skipped a beat. She turned around slowly, and their stood her father holding a pocket knife in his right hand, grinding his teeth solidly, maintaining his grip on his criminal weapon; Adriana could clearly figure out from his eyes, that they were full of murder. She hid her secret weapon behind her and waited for her father to respond verbally to her. He took a deep gulp and smiled painfully. “Come ‘ere you”, he spoke, grabbing her from the wrist strongly and dragging her along with his large footsteps. It was possible for her to tolerate this behaviour of her father’s because she has experienced much worse, her mouth moved in various shapes as she tried to communicate with him in a manner which he will accept – but she was unable to speak, it was too much for her mental capacity. He pushed her stiffly inside the cellar and laughed psychotically, she cried “Help! Don’t do this to me daddy!” banging on the door and loosing strength in her knees. She knew exactly this was going to happen, repetition of her history. She crouched down, curving into a ball, resting her head on her weak knees, hoping to be let out sometime soon.