J
jeanette_appiah
Guest
I just need some constructive feedback on a small book for teenagers about a girl who had been sent to jail for killing her mother (a very important family) and she's explaining her time in jail. thanks!!
After I had been convicted of killing her, I got sentenced to seven years in Eastwood Park institution. I got a phone card, a ‘first night’ pack, some writing materials, and a meeting on what would happen now, next court hearings, personal property, and arrangements with my pregnancy. They found out when I had been searched thoroughly. When I mean thoroughly, I mean internally and externally. I felt like I had been raped legally. I wasn’t prepared for any of this shit. I wasn’t prepared for killing my mum, I didn’t even get a fair sentence apparently, and it wasn’t intentional. I missed her like hell. I wanted her back in my life, everyday I looked back when we used to wake up to the smell of honey-flavoured pancakes and hot buttered toast. I would run down the stairs and find it all there lay on the table. She did care, and now that she’s dead I never got to tell her that we did appreciate the things she did for us.
The cell that they described in the brochure was nothing like what it looked like. I found out that the T.V, games room and telephone service was all for the offenders who had spent their time in prison usefully and had been on good behaviour. It was 8 feet by 8 feet. It mostly consisted of a bunk bed, which meant that I was about to share with someone, a sink, toilet and a chair. I found out that my roommate was here on the same charges, so I assumed we would have something in common. I was wrong.
“Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of here!”
“I-I-I’m Esme.”
“Oh shit, you’re that prime minister’s daughter innit? Come here fam, have a seat,”
Oh was I wrong to sit down. I bled for hours, as she strangled me and beat me until I couldn’t see any light. She then pulled my hair and dragged me to the toilet, where she dunked my head into the salty, dirty yellowish water, and for a long time I found it hard to breathe. While I was suffocating under water, I had miraculously had time to think about what I had achieved in life. I had 3 minutes to think of something. Nothing came out and I started to think of school.
I was never the brightest, but I always came out with the smartest of ideas. Ok, not always I had the smartest ideas but I was never seen as the dumbest in the class. The posh group of girls such as the “St Saviours” were seen as the smartest, yet loosest girls in the school. Lose as in the whores of the school... harsh I know, but everyone knew that they could keep their grades up and still have the most good looking boys in the school. I once wanted to join them, and when they invited me to Millie’s, (The number one girl that everyone loves) ski resort in Basel I had to prove to her that I was one of her. Russell was the heart of Queens Grammar school. I was going to have the chance of going from no base straight onto 3rd. apparently he never wasted time in going from stage to stage. So, here we were, in Millie’s bright fuchsia room, me in a thin topshop vest top and shorts. And there’s Russell, pecks like an older man from the GQ magazine, especially the issue with Freddy Ljungberg on the front, with his hot Calvin Klien boxers. So there I was. All of a sudden, he came out with “Listen do you want me to say that I did something with you, because we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” I didn’t know what to do or say then. But something told me to just kiss him and maybe then he will lead on from there, and maybe, JUST maybe I’ll become the next Millie, and everyone would love me. But he just stood up and said “fine. Give me a kiss on the lips and make sure you looked like you’ve been fucked hard. I haven’t got anything to lose babes, whereas you, huh, you just might lose your reputation for being the innocent whore in Queens.”
“WHAT? But I-,”
“Erh, don’t act innocent, we all know what you’ve been up to, giving head to that Sammie boy from St Thomas in new years eve.”
I couldn’t believe he said that. Sammie was my first and last boyfriend before Andrew, and I vowed to never like boys after Sammie the dickhead. He spread rumours faster than he spread Herpes. He cheated on me 4 times (with Millie) and I took him back just so that we could both be popular for the wrong reasons. It turns out it made me the innocent whore for six months, without me noticing, and it just made Sammie ill.
So I just kissed him, and told him not to make it too raunchy. Just simple sex it was. But not from what I heard a week later when I got back, apparently I saddled him, I deep-throated and a whole load of other things. It was such bullshit that apparently he popped my cherry and I’m still a virgin. Clearly that’s not true. Andrew was my first, and will always be my only. I will always be dedicated to him, no matter what.
It was dinner time when I got to meet the other offenders t
After I had been convicted of killing her, I got sentenced to seven years in Eastwood Park institution. I got a phone card, a ‘first night’ pack, some writing materials, and a meeting on what would happen now, next court hearings, personal property, and arrangements with my pregnancy. They found out when I had been searched thoroughly. When I mean thoroughly, I mean internally and externally. I felt like I had been raped legally. I wasn’t prepared for any of this shit. I wasn’t prepared for killing my mum, I didn’t even get a fair sentence apparently, and it wasn’t intentional. I missed her like hell. I wanted her back in my life, everyday I looked back when we used to wake up to the smell of honey-flavoured pancakes and hot buttered toast. I would run down the stairs and find it all there lay on the table. She did care, and now that she’s dead I never got to tell her that we did appreciate the things she did for us.
The cell that they described in the brochure was nothing like what it looked like. I found out that the T.V, games room and telephone service was all for the offenders who had spent their time in prison usefully and had been on good behaviour. It was 8 feet by 8 feet. It mostly consisted of a bunk bed, which meant that I was about to share with someone, a sink, toilet and a chair. I found out that my roommate was here on the same charges, so I assumed we would have something in common. I was wrong.
“Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of here!”
“I-I-I’m Esme.”
“Oh shit, you’re that prime minister’s daughter innit? Come here fam, have a seat,”
Oh was I wrong to sit down. I bled for hours, as she strangled me and beat me until I couldn’t see any light. She then pulled my hair and dragged me to the toilet, where she dunked my head into the salty, dirty yellowish water, and for a long time I found it hard to breathe. While I was suffocating under water, I had miraculously had time to think about what I had achieved in life. I had 3 minutes to think of something. Nothing came out and I started to think of school.
I was never the brightest, but I always came out with the smartest of ideas. Ok, not always I had the smartest ideas but I was never seen as the dumbest in the class. The posh group of girls such as the “St Saviours” were seen as the smartest, yet loosest girls in the school. Lose as in the whores of the school... harsh I know, but everyone knew that they could keep their grades up and still have the most good looking boys in the school. I once wanted to join them, and when they invited me to Millie’s, (The number one girl that everyone loves) ski resort in Basel I had to prove to her that I was one of her. Russell was the heart of Queens Grammar school. I was going to have the chance of going from no base straight onto 3rd. apparently he never wasted time in going from stage to stage. So, here we were, in Millie’s bright fuchsia room, me in a thin topshop vest top and shorts. And there’s Russell, pecks like an older man from the GQ magazine, especially the issue with Freddy Ljungberg on the front, with his hot Calvin Klien boxers. So there I was. All of a sudden, he came out with “Listen do you want me to say that I did something with you, because we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” I didn’t know what to do or say then. But something told me to just kiss him and maybe then he will lead on from there, and maybe, JUST maybe I’ll become the next Millie, and everyone would love me. But he just stood up and said “fine. Give me a kiss on the lips and make sure you looked like you’ve been fucked hard. I haven’t got anything to lose babes, whereas you, huh, you just might lose your reputation for being the innocent whore in Queens.”
“WHAT? But I-,”
“Erh, don’t act innocent, we all know what you’ve been up to, giving head to that Sammie boy from St Thomas in new years eve.”
I couldn’t believe he said that. Sammie was my first and last boyfriend before Andrew, and I vowed to never like boys after Sammie the dickhead. He spread rumours faster than he spread Herpes. He cheated on me 4 times (with Millie) and I took him back just so that we could both be popular for the wrong reasons. It turns out it made me the innocent whore for six months, without me noticing, and it just made Sammie ill.
So I just kissed him, and told him not to make it too raunchy. Just simple sex it was. But not from what I heard a week later when I got back, apparently I saddled him, I deep-throated and a whole load of other things. It was such bullshit that apparently he popped my cherry and I’m still a virgin. Clearly that’s not true. Andrew was my first, and will always be my only. I will always be dedicated to him, no matter what.
It was dinner time when I got to meet the other offenders t