Could you tell me what you think of this excerpt? What I would really like to know is if the counting sequence works for this part. It's the first part of chapter 18, so I'm sorry if it's a little confusing. When they arrived at the hospital Rebecca was taken to the emergency department, and Jacob was ushered into the waiting room. As he was being separated from his mother Ed reassured him once again that they would do all they could for Rebecca, before rushing into a busy hall with the gurney. Ed’s scratch wasn’t bleeding anymore, but a long pink line scarred his cheek. Behind Ed, Chuck scrambled to keep up before he too vanished behind a pair of double doors. With a sigh Jacob turned and headed towards a seat in the waiting area where he reluctantly sat down. He checked the clock on the wall. Seven in the morning. Soon the room would gradually fill as the day came, but for now Jacob was the only occupant. Wellington was slightly larger than Portland, but nevertheless it was still a rural community. The emergency room never housed more than one hundred patients a week, and the waiting period was always slim to none. Feet clicked on the white tile as a hospital nurse crossed in front of Jacob and entered through the double doors. The room was awfully bland. Tasteless white walls surrounded unkempt magazine bins and plastic vegetation. Untended children’s toys were scattered throughout the small lifeless room. The smell of disinfectant wafted through the air, and a chilled cold nipped at Jacob as he waited. Boredom overtook him quickly and soon he found himself counting up and down from one hundred over and over again. He always did this to pass the time away. It was one of his unusual practices that would drive most people insane. Yet it always calmed him. For some reason the rhythmic voice inside of his head, steadily counting back and forth, was the one thing that Jacob could rely on to ease his stress. Sometimes, when his parent’s would break out into a fight and the house would fill with screaming violence, Jacob would count. He would lose himself in his own rhythm, blocking out all other noise, leaving the fighting and his parents behind. He would withdraw from this world and recede into his very own one. He knew it wasn’t healthy, receding into his mind. But it was the only way to stop the screaming, the only way to end the pain. This method worked doubly well whenever he needed to forget the pain left after his father hit him. The anguish would leave his body and Jacob would be lost in numbers. He would retreat into his own mind, never coming out until forced to. There was something about the counting that distracted him from the despair. Like anesthesia to a patient, his thoughts would drift from the pain and focus on the rhythm. It was his way out if he ever had one. He couldn’t leave his pathetic existence, so he created another one, deep inside of his own mind. There, in that existence, he was free from pain and distress. There his father could drink without beating him. There his mother could laugh without laughing at him. There his parents could talk without screaming. There he could live without fear that he would die in that hellhole, die and never get out. And most importantly, in that pitiful existence he had created for himself, he could live like an equal to Travis. Oh God how he wished it were real. How he wished he weren’t dead to the real world. Oh yes, he was alive and loved inside of his own little fantasy, but when he was brought to reality, when he was stolen back to the depths of dehumanization, he was dead to the world. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine. His mother was giving him a warm hug, embracing him tightly to her chest as tears of pity rolled down her cheeks. “I love you Mom,†Jacob said as she tenderly kissed him on the chick. “I love you too son.†She said back. Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two. He was in the living room watching a movie with his parents. “Do you want a drink Isaac dear?†Rebecca asked to Jacob’s father. “Oh no, not tonight. It’s family night sweetheart!†Jacob’s father said before turning to Jacob and smiling. That was right. It was family night. Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five. Jacob peered outside at the rain through the kitchen window. Underneath a tree in the backyard Travis huddled and cried as tears mixed with cold rainwater under his eyes. Travis wept, and wept, and wept. Just as he had done before…. Just as he had done.
Books & Authors - 2 Answers
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1 :
im sorry, but i don't exactly know what im reading, where's the beginning
2 :
THERE ARE not words for that!! I most definatly would buy that book if you were to publish it. It was truly breathtaking. Please please please keep me posted and the best of luck.
