Anger

By Samantha Chong, Canyon Crest Academy, graduating in 24' June 5, 2023

"haunted house" by Yuri "Ticket" Lee, Del Norte High School, '26

Anger: a strong feeling of displeasure, annoyance, or hostility.

It was only a feeling of displeasure at first.

We had moved once again to a temporary home 7,403 miles away. Restarting my life in an unfamiliar country with little knowledge of the language or culture was excruciating. I was living this new life in discomfort, but she persistently claimed that it was better than living a life with him.

I still remember the day I had come home from school, only to find him drowning in blood. She was there beside him, as he took his last breath, with her hand clutched on the knife that plunged deep into his flesh. That was when I first felt anger towards her. I was displeased with her actions but I trusted her when she swore that she was within good reason to commit such a horrendous crime.

After that fateful day, we led a gypsy life, traveling to various countries. Our lives became increasingly complicated, but she promised that we would be living better lives soon. Her promise was far from fulfilled; she would come home every night drenched in the scent of liquor and left me with immense bruises in the morning.

That was when a feeling of displeasure shifted to a feeling of annoyance.

Her constant strikes to my body augmented my anger towards her. I felt annoyed by her reckless behavior, but I couldn’t fully feel an intense anger towards her when she would apologize to me the next morning, comforting me in a way that made me forget about all of her sins.

An empty promise dangled between us until the following evening. Though this daily routine continued to annoy me, I strongly believed that she was a different person under the influence. She was not at fault. In the morning, she was a tender person who never intended to hurt me the way she would in the evening.

It had taken some time for me to realize that the tender person in the morning was merely a pretense of a performer. Her violence wasn’t because she was intoxicated but rather because that was who she truly was.

A feeling of annoyance had finally become hostility.

I couldn’t bear to see her face anymore. I hated the sight of her attempts at entertaining me with her performances in the morning. I hated the fact that I was too weak to fight back during the night. I hated that my entire life was in shambles, intertwined in her web of lies.

My life had become tangled in a mess that wasn’t mine. I yearned to live a normal life: one without fear of police’s searches, accusations, and arrests. Her existence was the cause of all my miseries. Her need to be constantly on the run destroyed any prospects of normalcy. This realization heightened an immeasurable rage and resentment, enough for a plan of elimination in exchange for a customary existence.

That was when I made a decision. I believed there was only one way to return to my refuge: She came home intoxicated, as she always did. My moment had arrived, piercing her with a sharp knife that I had found in the kitchen, forcing it to plunge deeper into her flesh as the blood continued to seep into the once clean marble floor. Although she displayed an expression of regret during her last moments, I couldn’t reciprocate an ounce of sympathy for her fleeting regret. My rage subsided as her blood dripped and coagulated on my wrist. I am free, finally free, mind and soul…