A Heart of Fire

A door jutted open in front of him, and turning quickly out of the way, he ran to the bathroom. He had to be alone. As he entered the bathroom he caught site of his reflection. Turning his face slightly toward the mirrors, he took a good long hard look at himself. He starred into his own deep dark brown eyes. His tears streamed do

. . .
One morning they started in on me as always. And as I took this person, this young man apart hit by hit, I found that I, me, ME! was the one who was powerful. After years of this… this hell, I began to. His glasses seemed to fog from his misting eyes. "I hate VT," his words echoed around the old cement room. And would you like to know the reasons why? " Oh Paul you are just one of those kids who always gets made fun of, its just who you are. And with this snap, my fist whirled around and smashed into the face of my victimizer. He had hated the idea from the beginning. I then proceeded to hit him again, and as I saw the blood flow out from his nose, I grew more rageful. Now to some, this seems like nothing short of common sense. I remember the years after, and the torturous teasing, beatings, and stabbing that I endured.

Common topics in this essay:
, Oh Paul, John Blacksmith,

Approximate Word count = 547
Approximate Pages = 2 (250 words per page double spaced)

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