Atticus Dialectical Journal

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As the tears trickle down my cheek, I find it hard to stop the flow; as they gently fall into my lap I feel all eyes rapidly surrounding me. With my vision becoming gloomy I begin to dwell on the horrid moments that I went through as a little girl. Awakening to see my father restraining my struggling body; forcefully tying your wrists and ankles, leaving permanent marks; physical and psychological. As I screamed my face vigorously became his punching bag; paralyzed by the pain I was completely helpless. As I lay there screaming I expected Atticus to save me; instead, he watched – his eyes filled with contempt. As I sadly stared into his eyes his head lowered with shame, unable to look me in the eyes. I realized what was necessary, I had…show more content…
As I waited for the darkness to come I briskly pondered around my room, wondering what’s going to happen. As the door slowly opened my dad stumbled in, obviously drunk. It was now or never. Using my hand I smashed the window open, completely fearless of the glass. Substantial amounts of noise erupted from behind me but determination kept me moving. As I weaved through the trees, more and more commotion was trailing behind me; curiosity got the best of me. I saw a gigantic shrub ahead of me, pretending to doge it I raced into it making sure it concealed my whole body. What I saw was astonishing – Atticus was with him. As they rushed past me into the dark forest behind me it became clear they didn’t see me. I remained quiet momentarily so they didn’t hear me and then ran back for my bag. As I peered through the smashed window I noticed my belongings had been severely damaged, beyond repair. Remaining in the open would raise suspicion so I carefully and silently back-traced to the shrub. While I waited for dawn I couldn’t stop crying – I had so many questions. Confusion flowed through my body as I attempted to figure what’s happened to Atticus. I realized the truth though, black people are bad. I swore I would never trust a Negro again. Throughout my entire childhood I’ve always gone back to that moment and wondered why Atticus helped dad out instead of me. Well I’ve finally realized. He’s a nigger lover, and always has

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