Christmas Vacations Essay

Christmas Vacations Essay-21
Fun, but I doubt I can write a one page essay about it. Every other weekend I stay at my father’s apartment, sleep over Saturday night. Sasha, my stepsister, is allowed to eat or drink wherever the hell she wants. Holding me tightly by the back of the neck, he shoves me through the kitchen.

Fun, but I doubt I can write a one page essay about it. Every other weekend I stay at my father’s apartment, sleep over Saturday night. Sasha, my stepsister, is allowed to eat or drink wherever the hell she wants. Holding me tightly by the back of the neck, he shoves me through the kitchen.

Christmas time is fun to enjoy the company of my family.It all starts on the day of Christmas Eve, I wake up in the morning, and I prepare myself to clean up the house.This process takes a good two hours to clean the whole house.With a decade’s worth of hatred burning in my eyes, I watch my formidable stepmother disappear into the living room.Gently tapping my pen against my front teeth, I glance down at my essay. The best part of vacation was sitting home alone two nights ago, New Years Eve, stuffing myself with Oreo cookies and milk and watching Dick Clark usher in 1981. I’d like to hear that come out of Bruce Jenner’s mouth. Her voice is like a creaky door swinging in the wind. It’s been driven into my head every other weekend for the past ten years, since I was four. Not a bad rule, fair, except this rule pertains only to myself. Without a word, he grabs me by the arm, lifts me from the couch.The pen bounces off the fridge as Sasha waddles into the living room. The January sun is high and bright, but cold winter air cuts silently through the old single panes. Lynette stomps over, bends down, shuts the Atari off. ” “I asked you a question.” “I don’t know why she screamed. My eyes are locked on the screen, but I sense her staring at me. ” I scream, then breathe in quickly as I try to take it back. Lynette shoves me with her cigarette-free hand, driving me easily down onto the couch. Shaking in fear, I press myself back against the wall.I look down from the second-floor apartment to the driveway below. From the living room, the high-tech sounds of Pac-Man drive into my ears like electronic spikes. I got a six-month subscription to Sports Illustrated, along with a direct order to never use the Atari without first asking Sasha. A chunk of rank ash falls from her cigarette, landing on the console. Probably saw her reflection in the screen.” Lynette glares at me. My father’s face is red with rage as he lifts his arm and swings the belt down. As the belt rises again, I roll over and kick out blindly. The belt hangs above me momentarily, then drops limply to the floor. His hands hold his crotch and his drunken face is contorted in pain.My stepsister glances at me before I go and I shoot her the finger.I walk home, two miles, in the cold, winter darkness.All my friends seem to call early on Christmas Day; they are only calling to see if I'm going to ...I had a great time at Christmas – for a change, I might add.

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