Britt Stanek Analytical Writing Essay 1 Rough Draft I fall silently on my knees to the cold tiles that make up the kitchen floor. My heart is beating so fast in my chest, I think it’s going to jump out and run away down the street. Tears start falling from my eyes uncontrollably, and I feel as if I might throw up all over the coldfloor. It seems like hours have passed, when I hear my name being called over and over again from what seems like a dark, long hallway. The phone is no longer in my hand, it’s a foot in front of me, I slowly pick it up and ask her “Is this a joke, because it’s not funny?” but I already know the answer. “No Britt it’s not a joke” she replies. Suddenly I pick myself up off the cold tiles, I walk down the hall towards my room clumsily like I have had too much to drink and can’t wait to get into bed. I lie on my bed and cry. I barely hear my dad say my name over my drowning cries, I look towards the doorway and my dad is standing their staring at me worriedly. He asks “What happened?” I can barely get the words out; I tell him “My best friend, Brian, died” Saying those five words sends me into a harder crying tizzy, as if saying it out loud makes it the truth. Looking at me with a confused look on his face, my dad comes towards the bed and sits next to me hesitantly, like he knows that if he tries to comfort me it will make it worse. He sits there for a moment and everything is quiet, he slowly puts his hand on my shoulder and says “Are you going to be ok?” I look up at him in a fog and say “I don’t know.” He leaves the room, knowing there isn’t much he can do for me at that moment. For the next couple hours, I lay in my bed crying, sometimes just sitting with my knees tucked to my chin staring blankly at my dresser in front of me trying to remember when the last time I saw him was, and what did we do, what was he wearing. Did he know how much he means to me?