There it was, “ma boîte, ma boîte!” I exclaimed with joy as I unraveled the gift Mr. Rochester has given me. It was the most ethereal looking poupée I have ever seen, with black hair of wool striking blue eyes; almost resembling the features of my mother. As I was absorbed in my ecstatic contemplation, I heard Mr. Rochester raise his voice at Miss Eyre, “speak!” said he, with a loud and assertive tone. My heart pounded when I heard him, and my hand began to feel clammy against my doll’s face. The very act of listening to their conversation weakened me, as past memories associated with him flooded my brain. Yelling, screeching, and blares as loud as a roaring fire shook the room; as anger consumed him. All the recollections triggered tears to burst forth like water from a dam. I had felt every word as rough as I had heard it, and a passion of resentment fomented within me. The vociferous arguing between Miss Eyre and Mr. Rochester went on as I rushed back to my room to seek refuge. For a moment I felt like I was back in Paris; witnessing the trauma that occurred within my family.
It was early November, 1839, we were experiencing the first torrential downpour of the year. Considering the sky was full of nimbus and ragged clouds; I was not permitted to spend my afternoon …show more content…
Rochester had a capricious temper he instantly shifted his attention to my father. I felt a sense of fear as I saw him slowly place his hand on my father’s shoulder, suddenly, a sharp hit struck him to the ground. My father’s face was pressed to the brick wall, a knee was jammed into his lower back, pinning him down. Instead of looking who had pushed him, I ran upstairs trying to seek refuge from the violence. From the top of the staircase, I watched over the scene as if I were a hawk. Instantly I saw a knife, agleam by the reflection of light, plunge into my father’s arm. At that very moment, I was swept away by our caretaker who locked me up in an amber brown
It was early November, 1839, we were experiencing the first torrential downpour of the year. Considering the sky was full of nimbus and ragged clouds; I was not permitted to spend my afternoon …show more content…
Rochester had a capricious temper he instantly shifted his attention to my father. I felt a sense of fear as I saw him slowly place his hand on my father’s shoulder, suddenly, a sharp hit struck him to the ground. My father’s face was pressed to the brick wall, a knee was jammed into his lower back, pinning him down. Instead of looking who had pushed him, I ran upstairs trying to seek refuge from the violence. From the top of the staircase, I watched over the scene as if I were a hawk. Instantly I saw a knife, agleam by the reflection of light, plunge into my father’s arm. At that very moment, I was swept away by our caretaker who locked me up in an amber brown