KS

Does the expansion do its job? You made a very organized sequence of ideas in time and the expansion gives the reader enough information without leaving them bored Is the purpose of the piece evident? It is evident, the only question I had reading was what did your brother acutally do? I know it's not something easy to talk about but I was left wondering if it was beating you up or something else?Are there areas that aren't as clear as others? None (other than about what I said in the above question)Does the language provide strong visuals? You do a very good job of using visual imagery with your descriptions, analogies, metaphors, and descriptions of each scene Does the organization of the narrative make sense? This is very well organized and the four main elements that we are looking for are definitely evident. Summary: You do a great job of grabbing attention in the first paragraph, although it makes me wonder if you should possibly elaborate on your mother's attitude that you touched on in the first scene? Unless it is of little importance to the meaning. The flashback in the second paragraph is a great tool that you used. Overall, the organization of ideas and language used is excellent which makes it is easy to read and I think only minor tweaks are needed. My big question is "does this essay reflect enough of how you felt at the time and enough of the message you want the reader to understand?" for you.

//You had me the moment I began reading, and held me the entire story. The description, metaphors and literary language used captivated my attention and placed me in the scene. Great balance between story telling and reflection, and not much change is needed. The novel is extremely well-organized, and I was entranced making it an easy, 'enjoyable' read. (I say enjoyable because I was interested and intrigued, not because I was happy, just to clarify) Best story I have read by grabbing my attention and entertaining me.// I think that you did a great job in your expansion, i was instantly in the moment of the time in you first scene, and i was still intrigued throughout the whole story. I also think you did a good job of describing your feelings and emotions through what you've been through. i was left with questions of what happened to your brother and why you where sent to the psychiatric ward, but I don't think that is a bad thing. Maybe you wanted the readers to be left wondering. White Walls and Flickering Lights Doctors raced around frantically just outside the door to my room as I waited for what seemed like an eternity. The beeping of various heart monitors echoed through the cold hallway. It was the typical hospital scene, like all the emergency room shows I had watched on T.V. With every flicker of the florescent lights, a slide show of stereotypical hospital scenes played before me on the stark white walls. The fear overwhelmed me. My mom was sitting in the corner playing her favorite game on her phone as if she was waiting in line at the bank. How could she be so calm at a time like this? The sound of my weight shifting on the plastic covered hospital bed was the only noise in the painfully silent room between my Mom and me. We both knew what the future held, what more was there to say?

Six months before, I had been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. Before then I considered myself to be a happy go lucky cookie-cutter kid; plenty of good friends, great parents, and honor roll grades. I felt like nothing could possibly go wrong; but I was an ignorant 12-year-old child. I had always looked up to my brother. He was smart, funny, athletic, and received all my parent’s attention whether it was positive or negative. Four months in to his freshman year at college, he stopped going to class, flunked, and dropped out by Christmas break. College life had overwhelmed him. His drinking had gotten out of control and stripped away his future. Full of rage, spite, and self-loathing, my brother moved back home. I was excited to see my big brother. We hadn’t always been close but I was hoping this was my chance to bond with him. Instead, him moving home turned my world into a never-ending black ibis. Not long after he settled home, my parents and brother began fighting everyday. Nothing could drown out their voices as they bounced off the walls into my ears like a magnet. The air in my house was replaced by pure tension and hatred; I was suffocating. Eventually, my brother’s anger directed toward my parents redirected itself towards me. I was an easy target: small, innocent, doting, and easily kept quiet.

I walked from my room to my brother’s room looking to antagonize him, like all little sisters are contractually required to do. Unfortunately, I had chosen to be playful at the wrong time; he wasn’t in the mood to play. I watched his entire persona change as if Hyde was standing in front of me. Anger boiled from a dark sad place in his soul and I was his target. He attacked. I was ripped to the ground by my hair and dragged down the hallway. The sound of my screams and nails clawing against the hardwood floors filled the house. I crouched in the nearest corner throwing my hands over my head begging him to stop. He stood over me breathing heavily with a tense fist raised in the air and razors in his eyes; I knew what would happen next, and I braced myself.

My home was no longer a safe haven. Confined to my room, I hid, but hide-and-seek was never my forte. My brother always managed to find me. I was his preferred target, his entertainment. I lived on constant high alert. A war was raging in my family and my fear consumed my every thought and action. I battled alone for months and in the end I was withered. I let the fear and sadness consume me, and I was gone. Depression became who I was. I lived as an empty shell of a person, robbed of my innocence and life. I hated him for hurting me, I hated my parents for standing by, I hated the world for forgetting me, and most of all I hated myself because I felt I deserved this pain. Alone and afraid, I lost all hope of ever regaining a sense of normalcy. I was falling in a dark hole inside myself with no end. The pain was like my heart being turned inside out. Fed up and backed into a corner, I found salvation in a blade. With every slice, my heart steadied, the mental anguish released, and I was at peace. This was my new religion, and I was devout.

The social worker for the hospital rapped lightly on the door and walked in with mounds of papers. I knew what they meant; I wasn’t going home anytime soon. I was being admitted to the children’s psychiatric ward. Images of straight jackets, padded rooms, and bed restraints flashed through my mind like a film as the fear cut off my breathing. I would have rather died than be sent away to the loony bin. I was signed away in what seemed like seconds and escorted out of my cold hospital room to my new home. Security doors, cameras, and locks greeted me. Who were they keeping in? After given the tour of the facility by overly friendly nurses with smiles filled with pity, I was shown my room and left alone. The white walls and flickering florescent lights haunted me. I shut off the lights and crawled into the cold hospital bed once again. As I laid in bed watching the snow fall freely to the ground, I cried. I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I wept because I was safe.