kari4848
(Switched at Birth mircofic)
Kathryn hates sitting on the bench, which is why she has to do something. Writing this book about her life is going to give her a chance to get her feelings out there. All of them, the positive and the horribly negative. The things he hasn't told Regina or the girls or even John. Things only she knows. Things the world world is soon going to know.
There is a crispness in the fall air. Wind blows through the trees as he boards the bus, looking forward to a new life. Trying not to dwell on what he leaves behind. His brother stands behind him, a soft frown on his face marring the look of his gentle green eyes. He wishes the best, but he also wishes so desperately he wasn't being left behind.
(Switched at Birth microfic)
The Kennishes are constant thorns in her side. John and Kathryn don't understand her, let alone her (their) daughter. They make little effort to understand Daphne's needs and situation, how hard she has worked and still works everyday. They only want to mold her into the perfect person they want her to be - like them. And now they know Regina's secret, have listened to her desperate explanation, and still they will not even consider her point of view, her thoughts and feelings. Will not consider that she is just as attached to both of these girls as they could ever be.
I would say I'm an average person. My grades aren't too high or low. I have a job the pays decently, about minimum way, but not by a lot. I have a laptop, cell phone, iPod touch, and a TV in my room. My family is divorced, with a stepdad. There are three kids and a dog. Yep, I'm just pretty much your average American girl.
I never was much a cook, though I always tried. When I was little, I used to picture myself in one of those big kitchens I saw on the Food Network, throwing together fancy dishes garnished with sage and rosemary and other spices I'd never heard of and couldn't spell to save my life. Now I'm thirty-five, married with kids, and the fanciest thing I can cook is macaroni casserole.
Sometimes when I'm lonely, when Mom and Dad are fighting again and Ben is at a friend's house, I go out the barn and spend time with the sheep. They're different than people. They never shout or get angry, and they don't judge. More often then not I find myself falling asleep amongst them, cradled by soft, warm wool.
Summer isn't a time I look forward to. Does that make me strange? School's out, but it's not classes that I miss. It's my friends. I always spend the summer in Florida with my aunt, hundreds of miles from home. I never get to see my friends or participate in all the fun stuff that goes on when I'm not around. It sucks! Sometimes I wish it could be fall all the time.
The blotches on her face are hideous, a teen's worst nightmare. The cream doesn't help at all. She can't possibly go out like this. FaceBook status update: "FML. D:"
Her breathing is ragged as she runs down the street as fast as she can. She's losing speed, she's been at it for awhile, but it's not enough. She can still see the dark figure behind her. He's getting closer as her strength wanes, and her heart races thinking of what might happen when they meet. Adrenaline and pure fear gives her a small burst of speed, and she rounds a corner - only to find herself in a deserted, dead-end alley. Gasping for breath, she turns to face her fate.
I've always played a supporting role in my own life. I was subservient, letting others choose for me. First it was school - I went where my mom had gone, because she said ti was the best. Then it was my boyfriend. He was the first my friends had liked and my family thought was good for me, so when he asked I married him. But it was the wrong decision. I'm not happy, and I'm going to do something about it. It's time to become the star of my own show.
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