Alright, here is your update! It's kinda long but hope ya like it! Cara's POV Poems I stood there for what seemed like hours. He didn't kiss me. Just whispered in my ear. Stupid words. And a kiss on the the cheek. The cheek? That was all. "What took you so long?" Zara asked. "We took our time and enjoyed our-" I started. "Did he kiss you?" Cammy asked, giddy as a cheerleader. "No..." I whispered. "He didn't?!" Zara exclaimed. "Marty and I left early just to give you two time!" "Obviously it didn't work... He just kissed my cheek and whispered some stupid words in my ear..." A few weeks and Levels 4, 5, and 6 went on. One day, in English Lit. Mrs. Sanders told us, "Today, you all are writing a poem. It doesn't have to rhyme it just needs to be a poem. You have thirty minutes you may begin." I just started writing what came to me. I didn't pay attention to the time until Mrs. Sanders said, "Who would like to share their poem?" No one raised their hand. "Cara, what about you?" She suggested. I nodded and walked up to the front. I started, "Broken, into pieces for four to enjoy. For one to hit and break even more, For another to scream at for joy, For one to hurt, and watch the pain. The last one to let go, and let free." I took a deep breath and continued, "Pushed away, all of them go They try to be free, though no one knows. All but one receives pain, They think there is a gain. The handlers think it is a game. It's not a gamble, not for them. But it is for the broken. First it was safe, now it's torn, All but one, so far and worn." I closed my eyes and finished, "The last one is safe and sound, Still away, not yet found. It's in ones heart, to be cared for, So that way no one can hurt it anymore. That one person hasn't realised He holds the piece. That is fine, he will know To put the broken back into one." I looked at the class. They just stared at me silent. "Cara, that was beautiful," Mrs. Sanders' eyes sparkled with tears. I smiled shyly and went back to my seat. "Josh, how about you?" Mrs Sanders asked. Josh got up and stood in from of the class and started reading. "Eyes like the earth, Smile like the sun Skin so soft to the touch, Hair so dark like summer nights. I melt like ice, at her look. She's so sweet, so kind. She lets everyone say their mind. She never criticises a bad idea. She is always there. I just wish she would stay with me here." He looked at me and continued reading, "Sweet and kind, You'll want to tell her to speak her mind, She is quiet, and kind of shy But when you know her, in front of you she'll laugh and cry Crushing on her, all the guys do. So I know my chance is not soon. I want to help her, keep her happy, Then I'll know if she is mine." His eyes gleam with tears as he finishes, "Safe and sound is her future, If she stays with me. I love her, yes I do But I know she will be with someone new. If she likes them, so will I, For I don't want to waste time Loving her when she loves someone else. I will be fine, as long as I can help her Go through the tough times And see her in her prime. But all I want is for her to be mine." He smiles and sits down. Zara pokes me from behind. "He wrote that based on you!" she whispered excitedly. "Doubt it," I whispered back. Then the bell rang. As everyone walked out Josh whispered in my ear, "I loved your poem. Did you like mine? It was about you." He wrote it about me? I smiled and walked to my next class. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Awwwww! Josh wrote about Cara!
Uh what? A correctional facility would be much less happy though...again, they did kill people. The psychological trauma... And you'd still go to an adult prison, even if you're only two year from being a legal adult, in Cara's case. She KILLED people. That isn't NORMAL. She needs THERAPY. They probably wouldn't have the freedom for a dance when they're too busy getting therapy from a shrink. And wear tuxedos. Where the hell did he get a tuxedo? Where did she get a dress, for that matter?
I'm not trolling at all. I'm just stating the facts. Whereas if I were to say that the story is bad, or something rude, that would be different. It simply doesn't make sense to me how this sequence of events would happen. If you don't like someone questioning the logic pertaining to the story, do the research, or just don't post it where people who actually care enough to examine your story and write a thought out point of view can read it.
We have already gone over this...it doesn't matter what you think, it's her story, and she like it the way it is. I think it's a much better story than a story about therapy would be. No one else seems to have a problem with it, so why do you?
Everyone's opinion matters. I'm glad she likes her own story, but I just think that it could be more realistic, she can choose to take my advice or not to heed me. In a realistic scenario, therapy would definitely be needed. Considering you all have been so negative that I tell her what I believe is to be true, I responded to that. And I'm sure a person with a better grasp on this situation would've incorporated therapy as perhaps a time to think about what happened or life in general as it is.
You want some therapy sessions? Some will come in a few hours. So ima go work on them. So look forward to it.
But here is an update first, that way it makes more since. Cara's POV (continued) Being Asked After I recited my poem, everyone came up to me and commented on how sad or beautiful it was. I just replied, "Thanks," or "It's about why I'm here." It was finally Saturday, a day off. I hung out with my friends, Rob not coming much anymore to hang out because of Josh. Finally Cammy asked, "How did you come up with that poem?" I shrugged, "I just started writing stuff down." "Where did it come from?" "My past. Father, the one who beat the first piece. Mother, the one who screamed at the second piece. And my brother and his friends for the third piece." "What did they do to you?" Josh asked. I stayed quiet. Finally Josh said, "Okay, don't talk about. But that last piece, who is that?" "The person who I fall in love with. He holds the fourth and final piece. He fixes the broken..." "What is the title of the poem?" Marty asked. "'Broken' because the person, me, in broken mentally, physically, and spiritually. Mom, mental, Dad, physical, and bro spiritual. That last piece is love because love was thrown away from the other three." "That makes so much sense," Kate said. "I don't know how I came up with it, it just came pouring out of me." "Well, I loved it!" Hayley told me. And everyone else agreed. "Thanks, guys." "Josh, how did you think of yours?" Zara asked quickly glancing at me. "I was thinking about the girl I love. She is the whole thing the poem revolves around. It's called 'Mine.'" He looked at me after he said this. "Is it 'Stare At Cara Day' or something? Sheesh!" I hid behind my hand and peeked out of them. Everyone laughed at this. As we were leaving Josh said, "Cara, can I have a word with you?" "Sure," I walked over to him. "What's up?" "Well, I told you my poem was about you, right?" "Yes..." I said, I was so nervous! "Well, I was wondering if you would like to, oh, I don't know, be my girlfriend?" I could tell he was über nervous! But so was I. "Yes, I would love to," I heard myself say. "Really?" he asked relieved. "Really." I smiled. "I have to go, bye, Josh." I blew a kiss at him as I walked away. Finally. He asked me. Did it really have to take him that long?
Okay, here it is! Josh's POV My Girl Finally, I could call her mine. As she blew a kiss at me my heart raced. I wonder what Rob would say. Only one way to find out. I walked to my dorm. "Man, what took you so long?" Rob asked. "Something," I replied. "What is that something?" he asked. "Asking a certain girl a certain question." "Cara? Did you ask her to date you?!" he exclaimed. "Yes, what else?" I replied. "And what did she say?" "Yes, what else?" I repeated. "Congrats, dude! When is your first date?" "We'll establish that later." "Well, establish that soon. First dates are the most important!" "Yeah, yeah. Sheesh." I was not going to stop hearing for a while. Cara's POV Therapy I hate one thing. If you guessed therapy, then your right. I knock on the door to the therapy room. "Come in," I heard. I walked in and saw a plump woman. She was older than I was by about a decade. "I am Mrs. Davis, the therapist today," she added and I sat down. There were always a different therapist each day I came in. "Hello, Mrs. Davis," I greeted her. "Now," he began, "why did you kill your parent?" Same question as always. "They abused me," I replied plainly. "And your brother?" Another question that wasn't new. "No comment." "Alright. We're you under any stress?" This was new. No one ever asked me that. "Tons! I had stress from school, my so called friends, parents, brother, his friends. Even when I was not at school or at home, people would bother me and call me names like freak, wacko, weirdo, and other names. It was terrible!" Wait, what did I just do? This woman was different. She got me to say all that without forcing me. "Hmm. And did your friends care about you?" "No, but one did. Sadie, she was my best friend. She was the only friend at court with me. She even gave me her necklace her boyfriend gave her. And she's write me every week since I came here." Stop, Cara. Too much. "Was she like a sister to you?" "Yeah. I told her everything. All me secrets, what my parents did to me, what my brother and his friends did to me. How I became the way I was. Everything." Cara, shut up! "That's nice. It's nice to have a friend who is so much like a sibling. I used to have a friend like a sibling. Her name was Clair. She was a sister to me, and I was an only child." "Really? That's so cool!" "Do you have a boyfriend? On the outside, I mean." "No. But I do here. His name is Josh. He killed his parents and his sister. Kinda like me. But really, he's so sweet. He is nice, funny, sweet, protective, and he is so handsome!" "That's nice. I never had a boyfriend when I was your age. I wasn't allowed to. Parents were very strict." "Mine were too. They were lawyers too. They worked on small cases that were focused in town. They were really famous. Mr. and Mrs. Mulvara." "Ah, I see. Well, our session is over, sadly. I will meet with you next time, I hope. So long, Cara." She waved good bye. "Good bye, Mrs. Davis." I walked out. That was different. And I felt like a weight was just lifted off my shoulders. I liked Mrs. Davis.