This essay has been submitted by a student. This is not an example of the work written by our professional essay writers.
Night fell as I was walking along the sidewalks. Stopping midway, staring at inhabited houses. I thought about the families inside enjoying themselves. I felt nostalgic for something that I never had. At the same time, I also felt disgusted. My head started to burn and I fell on the cement. Something was coming back about my past. I pictured a slight flash of a smile. Before I could ponder more, I was tackled and I fell to the floor. Next to my head, a bullet flew past my head and bounced off the wall. A hooded figure was standing above me. I saw that he held a knife. With a smile, he brought the knife down into my side. Screaming in pain, I clutched my side. I couldn't stand and I felt myself losing consciousness. I thought to myself, a pity to die like this. The crimson blood was dripping from my side. I felt regret. I imagined a field being softly caressed by the wind. Next to me was a pretty girl. I heard gunshots, a groan and a thud. I was being dragged by an unknown person. I tried to scream but my throat burned. I could feel my vision slowly disappearing, into the darkness.
My eyes snapped open. I felt my sides and found a large towel wrapped around my stomach. Looking around, I was in a classroom. The first item that caught my attention was a bundle of bloody towels that hung from a desk. I wondered who took care of me. The room was empty except for posters of The Reaper's Army, a chalk board with the words "Requiem," dusty desks and a pile of weapons that lay on the floor. I noticed how opulent the weapons were. I wondered if these people were in some sort of war. It was already afternoon. Traces of the setting sun illuminated the room. I felt sad and alone in this room. I whispered to myself, "â€¦ wasted memories." Before I could think about what I said, the door slid open and a cheery face teenager in his school clothes walked in.
We reached our destination. Ahead, I saw a boy and a girl in the same uniform as us, tied together with a piece of rope. Mark beckoned our group to move closer to the scene. We slid across the wall and kept eye contact on them. The gritty wall scraped against my skin. I winced but kept following Mark. I nearly gasped and alerted the enemy. I saw a group consisting of middle school and elementary school students. They were all holding automatic weapons and seemed to be discussing with the leader. According to the plan, we split up into two groups. I was in the group called diversion. On the other side, Mark led the group that was called assault. Mark nodded to me from behind the hostages and I threw the smoke grenade. The children recoiled from it, as a grey smoke seeped from the grenade. My team threw more grenades that blinded and screeched. Under the cover, we were able to drag the hostages away from the scene. In that exact moment, I heard gunshots. It had all happened too fast. By the time the smoke screen vanished, I saw Mark kneeling as a boy aimed his gun at him.
Night fell. I took a walk around the school to relieve myself. The crispy air and chirping crickets seemed to calm me down. I found a small uninhabited park and walked towards it. I sat on one of the benches that stood underneath a street lamp. The atmosphere felt peaceful. I sighed and closed my eyes. I felt myself slipping into the grasps of sleep. I thought to myself how good it felt, how I wished for a chance to rest here forever. I heard somebody sit next to me. That person had started to sing. A girl's voice filled my head. She was singing about old memories that she once had. I opened my eyes. Sitting next to me, was the girl from the recruitment group.
Another day came. It was already my fourth day in this world and I was adapting to this lifestyle. Yet the thought of my purpose here lingered in my mind. I would have to try and find a connection to the real world. With it, I would regain my memory and finally be able to understand. I would have to try to find a computer. I wandered around the uninhabited hallways of the school, trying to find the computer lab. I had to try and find a connection to the real world. Finally, I stepped into a room that held ten computers. Blowing off the dust, I knew that these computers have not been touched. I turned one on and waited. A few seconds later, a blue screen with the words Windows 95 greeted me. As the screen turned black again, the computer turned off. I stood up, checking the wires for any loose ones. Next, I tried opening the computer and to see if there was any missing compartments. Everything was there. Behind me, the door slid open. Sara walked in, holding two cans of juice. She handed me one and we greeted each other.
Sara took a deep breath and started speaking. When she was little girl, she lived in a crime infested town. She had a brother who she loved. He would play games with her and share with her candy. One day, they were walking in the park. She felt happier than normal because it was also her birthday. He had promised her a surprise gift. Just as they reached the park, a pair of kids arrived on their bikes. Without warning, they reached into their backpacks and pulled out a pistol. Her brother pushed her down and she heard the guns fire. The kids dropped their guns and ran off, leaving the 10 year old Sara, holding her dead brother. Moments later, the police came. They arrived at a scene where a little girl was sitting on a pool of blood, crying. A harsh looking officer immediately blamed Sara for the death of her brother. Her parents were informed of this.
It was already past Midnight when Sara was released from the police. She carried a limp, bloody rose with her. This was the remains of her brother's gift. At home, her parents believed that Sara was the true murderer. They had loved their son. He was the model student, the one with potential. On the other hand, Sara was the lonely girl at her school. Her parents argued about the future. Sara became scared and hid in the corner, trying to cover her ears. The fight escalated. Her father pulled out a revolver from his pocket. Her mother screamed and tried to run. The gunshot broke the silence of the night. The bullet had missed her mother but instead, hit Sara. Her parents stared in shock, as the rose fell from her hand and Sara, falling dead to the floor.
I thanked her as she walked out. That night, dreams visited me for the first time. I blinked the tears out of my eyes as I ran aimlessly. The cold air bit into my face as I ran down the sidewalks. My parents had fought again. Every night they would, over something stupid. Today, the fight was about who would get the television that night. I didn't care about them anymore. I hated them. Parents weren't supposed to fight each other; they were supposed to love. Isn't that why they were married in the first place? I wanted to die. I didn't care about anything else in the world. I hated God. I reasoned to myself that if there was God, he would use his power to help people. Instead, I never found miracles or happiness in that wretched house. Moments later, I arrived at the beach. Even when I was little, I loved to visit the beach. The sounds of the wave calmed me. It also made me feel better, to have someone that shared the same feelings. Each day, the waves splashed against the sandy beach. Each splash of the wave was repetitive. In a way, the beach reminded me of my own life. I felt somebody sit next to me. It was my best friend. She smiled and gave me a hug.