Dancing in the Night- Narriative/ Descriptive Essay

She sat in the car, her cries for pain dancing in the cold air, her breath becoming shorter on the intake. She wanted to break free. She wanted to break the chains over this abuse! Oh how she wanted to drive, drive anywhere and start her life over again. But again, as always, she had an excuse. She had reasoning for this crazy life, this notion of love. Thoughts swirling in her head. And then her breathing would dance in the frigid air once again.

It was two o’clock in the morning. She had little clothing on to keep her warm. The only protection from the cold, besides the thin sheath of a jacket on her arms and an old scarf, was the array of goose pimples. She cupped her icy hands over her mouth and withdrew a hearty, deep breath. That still was not enough. She ran the scenario through her mind, trying to

Shaking once again from the cold night, she decided to try and get the heater to go on in her old Oldsmobile. Turning the key clockwise, pumping the break… A load croak and moan spoke from within the car. Her luck- the car was dead. She knew nothing about cars. She was miles from home and from civilization.

figure out where she went wrong, where she wronged the man whom she loved so dearly. All she could think of was how the thrashing of their bodies collided together, the pain she felt everytime he wanted to. She would tell him to stop, but he would stop at nothing. He always got what he wanted. These thoughts running through her mind were making her cry uncontrollably. She brought her hands to her face, gently cupping her rosy, tear stricken face.

Six o’clock. Almost time for the rooster to crow. She made her way from the broken car to the side of the road. She saw some truckers pass by this secluded road during the night. She wondered if any of them had heat. What she would do for warmth right about now… Then she spotted it- a large tractor-trailer coming her way. She withdrew her chaffed thumb from her pocket, shaking violently from the rough night of tears and lack of warmth. She still managed to shake her hip and open one more button on her jacket. She slightly exposed her sequin top from work the day before. She hid her tips in the hole of the right sleeve. All she needed was warmth and a place to lay her head.

They are so much alike. She always fixed the same

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