Jake - Original Essay -- Papers

Jake - Original Essay I pushed off onto the ice; whoosh! I felt alive. I looked around at children laughing and falling, young lovers skating round and round, hand in hand. I turned to see Jake gliding toward me, a look of boyish glee on his face. I smiled and took his out-stretched, gloved hand in mine. We lapped the frozen lake together in synchrony, talking, laughing and generally showing off, when Jake decided to show me, and everyone else on the opaque ice, what he was made of. He sped off, jumping and twisting like half of Torville and Dean, receiving many admiring glances as he landed, sure-footed, back on the ice. "Bet you can't beat that!" he laughed across to me, his heavy breathe coming out cloudy in front of him. I couldn't ignore a challenge like that. I flew across the ice as though I had sprouted wings, oblivious to the cheers and shouts around me. I jumped, twisted, pirouetted and twirled elegantly, breathing in the sweet, pine-scented air. Torville was always the better half of the skating partnership. I skated back toward Jake, a triumphant smile flitting across my face. All at once the ice gave way beneath me; I didn't even have time to scream before a chasm opened up, swallowed me whole and the freezing water surrounded me. A memory flashed; this had happened before. I was only six then but the same fear I had then burned through my mind and numbed my body. I pushed upward, but my sodden clothes pulled me under; down, down. I tried to kick the heavy boots off my numb feet and pushed one last time. My outstretched fingers hit solid ice. I clawed and desperately clutched at the ice trying to find the... ...e drugs out of my stomach. Mum crying again and angry at me for so selfishly wanting to waste my life in this way. Not that I cared then, but that was then and this is now. Waking up in the hospital once again, I felt the weight of depression that had pulled me down, like my clothes and boots under the ice, had lifted from me. I knew nothing would ever replace Jake and that my life would never truly be whole without him in it but somehow, some way after two close encounters with death I had seen a light and realised that life was a precious gift not to be wasted. It was different leaving the hospital with mum this time, knowing I was going home to start afresh. This time, instead of calling Jake, I went to say goodbye carefully putting all the things he had given to me in the box before sliding it under my bed.

Storm Born Chapter Four

We were on each other before we even made it to his room. If our actions on the dance floor had been racy, our grappling in the elevator was downright X-rated. Fortunately no one else rode up with us, which was a good thing, considering the disheveled state of our clothing when we finally made it inside. All the while, some reasonable voice in my mind kept whispering, You don't do this kind of thing. But I was. And I wanted to, very badly. It was a nice room, not surprising in such a nice hotel. A king-size bed offered comfort in the moonlit room, and beyond it, a sliding glass door opened out to a balcony that overlooked the desert. I didn't have time to admire the view because Kiyo pushed me down onto the bed, pulling my shirt off at the same time. I'd already done a fair job at undoing his pants in the elevator, so I had an edge in the race. When we were both naked, I saw him sit up and lean over the side of the bed, fumbling with the grocery store bag on the floor. We'd had to make an unromantic – but necessary – stop for condoms. I was on the pill, but even in the heat of passion, I wasn't so foolish as to trust going into unprotected sex with a stranger, no matter how charming. Kiyo's eager hands practically tore the box apart, causing the little packets to scatter on the floor. He picked one up and opened it, and I helped him put it on. I smiled both at his reaction to my touch and the fact that the condom was a deep scarlet. When it was on, I admired him for a moment. Everything about him was perfect: the shape of his body, the sculpted muscles, the tanned skin. His eyes were dark and demanding in the dim lighting, black depths that wanted to wrap me up. There was an intense quality to him, something primal and feral. He regarded me in a similarly scrutinizing way just before pulling me down onto the bed with him, laying his body across mine. All he did was kiss me at first. Everywhere. He tasted my lips again and then my neck, tracing its shape with his tongue. My breasts held his attention for a long time after that, but then, breasts occupied most guys' attention as a general rule. He held them and kissed them, biting the nipples, keeping his eyes locked on mine the entire time. For me, it was like traces of fire shooting under my skin, like his touch was some kind of drug my body needed to survive. When his face moved between my legs, it was only to nuzzle against the sensitive skin down there, to run his tongue along the place where my thigh connected with the rest of my body. He inhaled deeply, burying himself against me as though he needed to take more of me in. He moved back up so that we were face to face once more, his body again on top of mine. My own body was in agony, uncertain as to why we weren't expediting things. I don't know what look was on my face, but he smiled at me. It was a knowing smile, an animal smile. â€Å"There is nothing in the world,† he said in a soft, burning voice, â€Å"like the smell and look of a woman about to let you have her.† â€Å"‘Have?'† I laughed. â€Å"Are you calling me a possession?† â€Å"We're all possessions during sex, Eugenie.† And then I felt him slide into me, slowly at first as though he would inch his way in and catch me unaware, and then plunging all the way. I thought the earlier delay around the tour of my body might have made him less hard, but if anything, he felt harder and bigger than when I'd put the condom on. He moved at a rough, fast pace that in any other man would probably have ended things in thirty seconds. Somehow I suspected that wouldn't be the case here. It wasn't. I dug my nails into his back, arching myself up as though I could drive him farther and farther into me. Already I was almost painfully full, but it was a good pain, the kind that danced with pleasure, making the two inextricable. He moved with long, rapid strokes, watching my face carefully to see how I reacted to every movement and shift of position. When he hit a spot that made my lips part and cries grow louder, he thrust harder and more fiercely. My cries bordered along the edge of screaming, and he moved his hands to hold my wrists and keep my bucking body from moving. The wrist that had been hurt with the keres complained a little, but it was lost to the building sensation between my legs, that burning liquid heat waiting to explode through me. Besides, I wasn't being gentle either. I slipped my hands from his hold and clutched at his back, letting my nails dig in fierce and deep, almost hard enough to draw blood, I realized. That knowledge didn't make me stop. If anything, I dug deeper until he snatched my wrists back and held me down again. It was the roughest sex I'd ever had. And probably the best. â€Å"Don't close your eyes,† he told me. I hadn't even realized I'd been doing it. Vision seemed a superfluous sense at the moment, compared to everything else I felt. â€Å"Look at me,† he whispered. â€Å"Look at me.† Our eyes locked as the pressure within me finally exploded, sending my body thrashing and shaking. My screams faded to one low moan, the only way I could give voice to the feelings coursing through me. One might have thought Kiyo would slow down after that, but he didn't. He kept up the same ardent pace, still holding me, and it was almost too much after that orgasm. I could see from his face that my reactions aroused him, drove him on further. I was his possession in that moment, just as he had said. My combative, fighter nature flared up just then. I decided that I didn't want to be the possession anymore. Dominance and power ruled my days; it would with sex too. I moved my hands from his back to his upper arms and shoulders. Relying on the element of surprise, I rolled him over, using my legs to pin him down, wrapping them around his hips. Pleased surprise poured over his face. He hadn't expected me to be so strong. He shifted as though he might try to throw me, and I shoved him down. It turned into a rougher motion than I intended, but he didn't mind. If anything, it made the passion on his face grow. â€Å"You submit now,† I growled, pressing my palms down onto his chest. A smile twisted at his lips. â€Å"Sure.† I guided him back into me, exultant that I was the one in control now. I moved my hips up and down, leaning over so I could watch him slide in and out of me. My hair, long since freed from its ponytail, hung over him, grazing his skin. I have hair the color of cinnamon, a tawny russet not dark enough to be auburn, nor light enough to be strawberry. In this lighting, however, it was only a dark veil between us. He brushed it aside and rested his hands gently under my breasts so he could feel their movement as I rode him. Looking up through my hair, I watched his face now that I was the one controlling him. It was exquisite. I moved faster and harder, bringing him all the way into me, watching and adjusting as I did. I wanted to see him come so badly, see the look on his face when he lost control. I knew we were close when his hands dropped from my breasts to grip my waist and hips. His fingers clenched tightly into my skin, just as mine had earlier. He kept his gaze on me, bold and unafraid of me seeing him in climax. I moved more fiercely, urging him on, and then I heard a soft, ecstatic sound issue forth. His eyes never left mine, and his hands slid to the backs my shoulders, suddenly raking down my flesh as his body released itself into mine. I yelled out in surprise at the pain from where he'd scratched me. How sharp were his nails? Did he have talons? I'd dug into him too but nothing like what he'd just accomplished on me. When he'd recovered, and his frantic gasps had returned to normal, he seemed to realize what he'd done. â€Å"Oh my God, I'm sorry,† he said, his breathing still heavy. He pulled me to him, putting his arms around me, careful to avoid the places he'd gouged. I laid my cheek against the warm, sweaty skin of his chest. â€Å"Did I hurt you?† I didn't know which part of sex he referred to – probably that last bit of scratching – but really, it didn't matter. â€Å"No,† I lied. â€Å"Of course not.† When we'd both sort of come back to ourselves, we ransacked the shopping bag again and produced the cheap wine we'd purchased along with the condoms. It had seemed hilarious at the time, considering our earlier conversation on courtship gifts. We sat naked and cross-legged in bed, drinking from the glasses that had already been in the room. We talked a little, and though the conversation was a bit less substantive than in the bar, it still felt comfortable. It was hard to be eloquent after the wild, animal experience we'd just had. I went to the bathroom at one point and peered at my back in the mirror. He'd missed my tattoos but definitely drawn blood and torn skin. It was startling. I wet a washcloth and cleaned my stinging back as best I could, then pulled on one of the plush white robes hanging on the back of the door. Kiyo still sat on the bed, watching me, but I left him there and took my wine outside to the balcony. It was a gorgeous night. The cacti and other desert plants stood painted in shadows and moonlight cast from a full silver moon. Selene was out tonight, and I guessed she'd come through for me just now. Crystalline stars adorned the blackness. I had a telescope at home and mused that it would have been a good night to study the heavens. Except that it looked like the weather would turn on us soon. This surprised me, considering how clear it had been most of the day. Rain was rare this time of year. But dark clouds were tumbling quickly across the sky, blotting out the stars they passed. On the horizon the clouds came from, I saw a faint flicker of lightning. A wind picked up, the kind of wind that rises and falls like one's breath. The air was warm and alive, building up tension and power. It wouldn't be a dismal, glowering storm; it would be the kind of storm that left you awestruck about the power of life and nature. I felt alive too in that moment, as restless and wild as the tempest about to come. I felt pretty confident I had never opened myself up to anyone as much as I had to Kiyo just now. I had let myself go. It was frightening and thrilling at the same time. I heard him step out onto the balcony a few minutes later and then I felt his arms slide around my waist and his chest press against my back. He rested his chin on my shoulder. All was quiet around us. We were far from the highway, and no one else seemed to be awake. There was only the sound of the wind blowing around us and thunder growing louder. Kiyo's hands slipped to my waist and loosened the ties. He then reached up and tugged at the robe so that it fell off, leaving me naked to the elements. I started to turn away, shy, but he held me where I was. â€Å"No one's out,† he murmured, running his hands over my body, grazing my breasts as he moved farther down. â€Å"And even if they were, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You're beautiful, Eugenie. You are so amazingly beautiful.† He buried his face against my neck, and I leaned into him as he kissed me. His hand slid down between my legs and stroked me as the wind caressed my skin. When I whimpered out of desire, he released me for a moment, and I heard a slight rustling. He'd brought a condom outside with him. Presumptuous bastard. He had it on in seconds and then returned his hands to me, positioning me so that I bent over, my hands holding on to the railing. He pressed up behind me, and then that hard thickness was inside me again, once more claiming possession. I was almost rubbed raw from our last round, but as he kept moving into me, I eventually grew wet again, allowing the line between pleasure and pain to blur once more. It seemed crazy, having sex out here in public like this, but it was the kind of crazy that felt pretty damned good. Apparently he had an exhibitionist streak. But no one was out here. It was just us and the desert and the storm. I hadn't thought I could come any more tonight, but he proved me wrong just as the first warm drops of rain began to fall. Thunder and lightning occurred together around us now; the storm had reached us, screaming its own ecstasy to the earth. Still Kiyo moved into me, oblivious of the weather, intent only on me and him. At last, when we were in a full downpour, I felt him shudder and give a few last hard strokes before pulling out. Then he turned me around and drew me to him again. I could hear his heart beating in his chest almost as loudly as the thunder around us. The desert flickered and flared to life in the lightning, and the pounding rain threatened to drown us. But neither of us noticed. I fell asleep pretty quickly after that, lying under the covers in his arms once we'd both toweled off. No insomnia tonight. Yet, I woke up a couple hours later, not entirely certain why. Then I knew. Kiyo's hand was pressed against my mouth, making it hard to breathe. The storm had stopped; all was silent in the dark room. I started to struggle, and then his mouth was by my ear, his voice barely audible. â€Å"Shh. Something's in here.† I nodded my understanding, and a moment later, he released his hold. We both lay perfectly still, and I thought about his choice of words. Something, not someone. Literal and figurative chills suddenly crept over me. Following Kiyo's gaze, I looked up at the wrought-iron headboard and saw ice crystals spreading along it like fine white lace. Our breath came out in small clouds, and my bare skin shivered with the cold. A shape moved into my field of vision, shining in the returned moonlight. I had known what it was before seeing it. An ice elemental. A creature vaguely anthropomorphic and composed of sharp, glittering ice crystals. Technically, however, it was just one of the gentry. Some of them could not pass physically into our world, just as some shamans could not cross physically into theirs. Gentry not wanting to come in spirit but lacking the strength to come over with bodies intact would sometimes cross in an altered, flawed form. An elemental form. Of course, the thing was, any gentry not strong enough to come physically was not even close to being as strong as me. I could kick any elemental's ass easily. Well, if I had the right tools, of course. At the moment, all I had – aside from my own physical strength – was my jewelry, which was more defensive than offensive. All of my weapons had been left at home, save my wand, which was in my purse. Unfortunately, my purse still sat over by the door where it had been dropped immediately upon entering the room, lest it hinder Kiyo and me ripping each other's clothes off. A dilemma, truly. But the ice elemental could see we were awake now, and a cold smile – seriously – crossed its face. Screw this. I was going to have to make a move for the door and hope I was faster than it. I started to tell Kiyo just to stay still, but suddenly he leapt from his lounging position and nailed the elemental squarely with a kick straight to the solar plexus. The elemental flew backward, hitting the wall, and for a moment, I could only stare. I'd barely seen Kiyo move. One minute he was with me, the next he was on the elemental. And was he on it! I mean, I was stronger than a lot of people, but I could not have landed that blow. I knew of few who could. It was my will or weapons that fought a creature like this in the end, not my body. How had Kiyo done that? I stared at him incredulously, then realized I was missing my window here. I sprang from the bed, slipping out of Kiyo's reach. â€Å"No, Eugenie! Stay away!† I made it to the door, but the elemental was getting up. Its eyes focused on me, and my stomach lurched, knowing I had attracted this creature here and possibly put Kiyo at risk. The elemental gave a tinny laugh as it watched me empty out the purse onto the floor. â€Å"Yes, Eugenie Markham, stay away. Stay away, little swan.† It took a step toward me. Frantically, I searched for the wand. Where had all this shit in my purse come from? â€Å"How do you know my name?† I asked, hoping to distract it. Gentry, no matter their form, loved to hear themselves talk. â€Å"Everyone knows your name. And everyone wants you.† I'd never thought a walking chunk of ice could look lascivious, but this one pulled it off. I shuddered and not from the cold. â€Å"But I see someone has already tasted you tonight. No matter. I don't mind following in another's wake, nor will I be the last to spread those soft legs – â€Å" The creature was so fixated on me and what it wanted to do to me that it'd forgotten about Kiyo. Kiyo had surveyed the room during the exchange, and I'd seen his eyes rest on a tall, wrought-iron lamp. His eyes glittered with a dark heat, almost frightening in its ferocity. With the elemental distracted, Kiyo dashed for the lamp, again moving with incredible speed, and then in one motion, swung it at the elemental, hitting it with the force of a tank. A large chunk of ice broke from the elemental's body, and it roared in agony. Iron or steel will always hurt the gentry, regardless of which world they walk. I wondered if Kiyo had known that. The elemental lunged at him, and the two of them wrestled on the floor, rolling over and over as they struggled to land a hit. Kiyo fought savagely, and each time he dug his fingers into the monster, it would hiss in pain. I had my wand now and advanced toward the two of them. I thrust it out, making it an extension of my arm. With alcohol still metabolizing in my body, as well as me being physically exhausted, I knew I couldn't destroy the elemental, but I could sure as hell send it back to the Otherworld. The air tingled around me, and again I smelled ozone. The elemental realized what I was doing and released Kiyo, trying to stop me. Kiyo did not let his prey go so easily, however, and moved forward, his foot again connecting with the creature – this time on the back. The weakened elemental stumbled to its knees. I could usually do expulsions on my own, but tonight I needed a little divine help. â€Å"By Hecate's grace, I cast you from this world. In Hecate's name, I return you to your own realm.† The elemental screamed its fury, but it was already dissolving. â€Å"Leave here, and return no more, you fucking bastard. Go.† The elemental shattered in an explosion of ice. Some of the crystals grazed my skin, cutting it. An onlooker might have thought it had been destroyed, but I had only damaged its elemental manifestation. It had gone to the Otherworld in its own body. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, adrenaline surging through me. Another creature had known my name. And like the keres, it had seemed terribly interested in me in a†¦Biblical way. Bleh. But I had more pressing problems. Slowly I turned to stare at Kiyo who was watching me with equal caution, taking in my posture and the charged wand in my hand. Kiyo. Dark, sexy Kiyo, who had wooed me in the bar and just given me the best sex of my life. The same Kiyo who had just fought an elemental with more strength and speed than I ever could have mustered – more than any human could have mustered. He had also not turned into a blabbering, shocked idiot like most humans would have – should have – around an elemental. He had seen one before. He knew what it was, just as he knew what my wand and incantations were. What had earlier seemed like a passionate encounter for me suddenly had a vile edge. Fear traced my spine as we stared at each other, neither of us certain what to do. The words were on my lips, but he asked them first. â€Å"What are you?†

Newsworthiness of Child Abuse Cases - 821 Words

Society is now what Downing, Mohammadi and Mohammadi (1990) would call a ‘media culture’, this is where the perceptions and images of reality are often shaped by the actions and decisions of news editors and producers (Surrette, 1992). The role of the media according to O’Shaughnessy and Stadler (2008) is to give the public an insight on what is happening in the world and to make sense of that information to the public. The main focus of this essay will be looking two main concepts which are newsworthiness and the dark figure of crime, relating 5 news articles that are centred around child abuse that have featured in the New Zealand Herald and stuff.co.nz. The media plays an important role in society by creating and shaping society’s attitudes about most current issues including child abuse. In New Zealand, as well as in the international media, the physical abuse of a child regularly features in the newspapers, magazines, radio and television (Merchant, 2010). When it comes to the public understanding of child abuse, this is influenced by the knowledge that they gain through reading newspapers or mass media like the television or radio. Kitzinger (2004) states that our individual view and sense of the world are a social construct and the media are an important resource to help us construct that world view. The way that child abuse is reported in the media has become what you would call ‘entertainment’ where there seems to be an incline towards dramatising child abuse in aShow MoreRelatedTRUTH AND HONESTY IN THE MEDIA3414 Words   |  14 Pagessociety. Millions of people turn to the media for the latest news and information. The media is responsible for preparing and delivering news programs accurately and honestly to maintain public interest. They are also responsible in evaluating the newsworthiness of all broadcast items and recognizing the publics right to know. According to The Arizona Republic in Phoenix, Facts should be presented honestly, fully and fairly. This applies to news stories, columns, editorials, headlines, graphics, illustrationsRead MoreEssay about How the Media Uses an Ideal Victim in Portrayals of Crime1987 Words   |  8 Pagesan ‘ideal victim’ and show how the media have used this when describing crime. In reference to the media’s role, they have been highlighted for playing a part in maintaining these views by portraying victims in a certain way according to the newsworthiness of each story and their selectiveness (Greer, 2007). Furthermore, there has been an increase in both fictional crime programmes and crime documentaries, with Crimewatch particularly becoming a regular part of British viewing. In the modern context