Wound

I was digging through some old papers and found something I wrote for a daily assignment for the creative writing class I took in high school (fall of 2005). The assignment was to show an emotion rather than stating, for instance, "He was sad." The resulting paragraph I will post below. Brent Shultz, if you are reading this, know that two and a half years later, I still haven't forgiven you. I probably never will.

"It was like I had just run into a rather solid wall after staring off in the other direction; I was winded, at a loss for words, and slightly embarassed. How could he do that? After listening to all his troubles and all those nights spent worrying about his cancer and then rejoicing because it was miraculously operable, only to find out that it was all a lie? After trusting him again after the first time he lied to me and Catie, all of this turned out to be a way to keep the attention focused on himself. I couldn't tell Catie; she would be devastated. And there was no way I could tell Laura because she wouldn't believe me. She was always defending him."