Five years ago, Rebecca Simon got wind of the worstnews she'd ever gotten in her eleven years of life.While walking the short distance from home to herschool, Becca's father had been the result of drunkdriving. Taking a head-on collision of eighty milesper hour from an SUV, Derek Simon never stood a chanceof survival.Falling into a deep state of grief and anger, KathySimon, Rebecca's mother, blames her daughter for herHusband's death. Unable to cope with the feelings,sheworks several jobs,and neglects Rebecca so much thateven she feels it's her fault her father was killed...
Wide Open
A monologue for a female
My door is wide open. Mother’s standing there in the doorway with the same unfathomable look she wore when we found out what happened to Dad. Why he never came home that night. I sit, gripped to the spot, knife in hand. Big red drops are dripping down my arm. Drip. Drip. Drip. My eyes are locked with hers, except now I realllllly wanna giggle, and currently, that’s a bad idea. I stifle my childish urge, my eyes flicking toward the pink in her hair. Mom never wears pink! Really! I flinch – Mom’s moving, just not towards me. She’s spun around, snatching the door handle along the way. I let my stained knife clatter to the ground, wincing along with my shaking room. I look up, just in time, watching my shelves shake one more time. And with the same bewildered expression when Mom stormed in, I watch it crash to the ground. My door was wide open.
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1 comment:
I like the emotion of your monologue, but I must admit that some parts were a tad bit confusing. I had to reread several parts that at first I thought I understood, then found out that clearly I didn't. The story was good, but it could've possibly flowed a little better. Why did her mom blame her anyway?
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