Essay on Drugs and Prision - 1058 Words

According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, in the last few years, prisoners serving time for drug related chargers made up almost 50% of sentenced prisoners under federal jurisdiction. With the highest amount of drug related incarnations, The United States has a staggering 6.8 million Americans struggling with drug abuse. It is without doubt that the prison population is driven largely by incarceration for drug offenses. It is often argued whether the punishment fits the crime, and often questioned if the government is wasting money on prisoners incarcerated for drug related offenses. With this in mind, I believe the punishments for drug related offenses are not harsh, and in fact with the increasing amount of drug users and drug†¦show more content†¦She does not oppose the punishments given to her students’, but rather sympathizes for the reasoning behind why they are there. Boufis says she is â€Å"always happy to see my former students again, even in jail; at least I know that they are alive and safe (Boufis 72). It is understood that a large amount of drug related offenses make up the population of state and federal prisons. Many people including Amanda Coyne believe minor offenses such as drug crimes are made a bigger deal then they actually are. I believe drugs are controlling in the sense that this crime is repeated over and over again, and besides the issue itself the influence of drugs can cause other crimes as well. In â€Å"The Long Good-bye,† Coyne’s nephew asks â€Å"Is my Mommy a bad guy (Coyne 61)?† Coyne says this question that will haunt someone. She says in a few years she will have to explain to her nephew â€Å"†¦mandatory minimums, and the war on drugs, and the murky conspiracy laws, and the enormous amount of money and time that federal agents pump into imprisoning low-level drug dealers and those who happen to be their friends and their lovers (Coyne 61).† Coyne also presents the idea that she would like her nephew to be raised as she was â€Å"†¦with the idea that we live in the best country in the world with the bestShow MoreRelatedRehabilitation Over Incarceration : Persuasive Speech1736 Words   |  7 Pagesjudge agreed the punishment did not fit the crime. Timothy Tyler, a 25 years old who had long struggled with schizophrenia and addiction was caught distributing LSD at a grateful dead concerts and was sentenced to life in prison because of two previous drug related misdemeanors. Attention Getter: Nelson Mandela once said: â€Å"It is said that no one truly knows a nation until one has been inside its jails. A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones.† StatementRead MoreThe Death Penalty Is More Expensive Than Housing1610 Words   |  7 Pagesof the using of lethal injections or electrocution? After all the rope method can be reinstated, the rope is reusable. It would be beneficial to tax payers for the government to come up with a less costly alternative, â€Å"great value† generic execution drug† to cut the cost of the death penalty. Expediting the trial process is another way the death penalty could be cut in cost. Death row inmates in the United States typically spend over a decade awaiting execution. Some prisoners have been on death rowRead MoreThe Adult Offender Essay615 Words   |  3 Pagesunder supervision and there are more offenders that are sentenced with drug and property offences. Correctional supervision also includes people out on bond, probation and parole. 2. Compare the increase in females versus males in terms of the number under correctional supervision. There has been a dramatic increase in the number of females under supervision on 1999, 21% were on probation and 11% in local jails, 6% in prision and 12% on parole. By 2010 the female population was 6.8%. The annualRead MoreThe Mexican Cartel Is A Ruthless Crime Origination1182 Words   |  5 PagesThe Mexican cartel is a ruthless crime origination. It controls Mexico through bribes and fear. There are many factions of the cartel, and they are at constant war with one another. They war over many reasons from drugs to human trafficking. These battles often spill out into the streets causing the loose of many innocent lives. The cartel has a strangle hold on the Mexican people. The cartels operate much like other organized crime groups. Like the Mafia there are many factions. Each factionRead More Women Have the Right to Choose Abortion Essay1599 Words   |  7 Pagesprices of these abortions ranged from about $83 for white women to about $45 for women in prision or African American women. There are currently two types of abortions, medical abortions and surgical abortions. A medical abortion is done without surgery. There are two steps to this abortion. First the woman is either given an injection of a drug called methotrexate or a tablet called mifepristone. These drugs stop the pregnancy. Next the woman is given Misoprostol, which may be recieved in eitherRead MoreAddiction And Its Effects On Children1805 Words   |  8 Pagesthrough one of his drinking buddies. Over the course of the next few years he slowly drank more and more and began disregarding his responsibilities around the house and had more arguments. After the death of his two brothers (who both died due to drugs and alcohol), Jeff lost it. His daughter recalled an incident where he threatened to kill her and ripped off the banister, only to fall asleep shortly after. It was at this point his family learned he was using cocaine and possibly other substancesRead MoreUtopia Z Essay2908 Words   |  12 Pagescollects them and turns them into fresh nice smelling farming soil. nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;Utopia Z, has many domes insuring that life will be safe, some domes include, Recreation dome, Government dome, Storage dome, Construction plant, a prision and an Ariculture dome. nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;People get from their homes to these places by space suction that sucks nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;capsules from one end to the other in approxamitly thirty second. Twenty people can fitRead MoreHow It All Began. I Chose To Interview My Sister’S Boyfriend,1926 Words   |  8 Pagesother drugs. The First Encounter When he was fifteen he had his first encounter with the police, and he explained that it occurred after the police profiled him for his â€Å"long hair and tye-dyed shirt.† When they searched him they found what he described as a â€Å"tiny nug of weed† in his backpack which caused the police to treat him as if he the intention of selling it. The police took a common adolescent’s misbehavior , like smoking pot, and proceeded to criminalize Jon, by marking him as a drug dealerRead MoreHistory of Fda2718 Words   |  11 PagesHistory of the FDA From a staff of one to over 9,000, the Food and Drug Administration has seen great changes since it was first created in 1862. Stemming from a single chemist in the U.S. Department of agriculture, the FDA now encompasses most food products, both human and animal drugs, cosmetics and animal feed. The FDA received it start under a different name. First called the Division of Chemistry, which played a small part in everyday life, then in July of 1901, the name was again changedRead MoreFederal Prison And Addiction: What Are The Treatment Options?2670 Words   |  11 Pagesit was found that 68 percent of offenders reported symptoms of addiction in the year before their admission to jail that met addiction criteria. 16 percent of convicted offenders report they have committed their offense in order to get money for drugs. 63 percent of offenders who met addiction criteria had participated in some form of treatment in the past (James Karberg, 2005). Because convicted offenders tend to be locked up for longer periods than jail offenders, treatment possibilities in

Death of a Salesman Illusion vs Reality - 1336 Words

Families always have their share of problems. Some may be minor such as having to cope with a disobedient teenager or an irritable child. Others may be more serious and sometimes beyond repair, like having to deal with lack of communication, secrets being kept from one another or possibly a temperamental father. An example of this dysfunctional family can be found in the tragic play Death of a Salesman written by Arthur Miller. The family presented in this play is the Loman family. They drown themselves in each others lies and dreams in hope of solving their problems, only to cause the destruction of their family. Until you are ready to face reality, living in an illusive world, will lead your life to be full of misery. Willy Loman, the†¦show more content†¦After his moment of realization while waiting in Bill Olivers office, Biff learns that his life up until now has been a complete fantasy; he no longer wants to pretend to be something he is not. During the funeral scene B iff finally breaks with his father and decides to go back west to do what he wants to do. He finally knows who he is and his position in the world.Show MoreRelatedThemes Of Death Of A Salesman1286 Words   |  6 PagesA Blanketed Illusion Death of a Salesman is a tragicomedy centered on the events that take place at the end of Willy Loman’s life. From the opening act, we learn that Willy and his family struggle to behave as a united front when they face financial pressures and strained familial bonds. This causes Willy to become desperate for success and validation. Death of a Salesman has commonly been interpreted as an analysis of the American dream. Within the ideal American society, citizens believe that theRead MoreDeath Of A Salesman By Arthur Miller1628 Words   |  7 PagesArthur Miller wrote the Pulitzer Prize winning play Death of a Salesman in 1949. 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Some others are struggling to make sense of their world while being bombarded by their own familiesRead MoreEssay on Death of a Salesman and Street Car Named Desire4007 Words   |  17 PagesBiff: â€Å"will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens† Compare how the authors of Death of a salesman and â€Å"street car named desire explore the conflict between truth and illusion Truth and illusion are utilized in Tennessee Williams â€Å"Streetcar Named Desire† and Arthur Millers â€Å"Death of a salesman† through the use of the character; to lead the reader to a possible conclusion on the beliefs that went into the American dream that prompted people to work hard was that americaRead MoreDeath of a Salesman (Analysis and Personal Reaction)2850 Words   |  12 PagesDeath of Salesman is a a very deep play written by Arthur Miller about a salesman struggling to keep his grip on reality and his family. 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The prophet Tiresias, literally blind, sees the truth and relays what is revealed to him. â€Å"Though Oedipus future is predicted by the gods, even after being warned by Tiresias, he cannot see the truth or reality beforehand because his excessive pride has blinded his vision†¦Ã¢â‚¬ [1] Only after Oedipus has physically blinded himself does he gain a limited ability to see. It is deliberately ironic that the seer can see better than Oedipus, despite being blindRead MoreCoaching Salespeople Into Sales Champions110684 Words   |  443 Pagesalways be my greatest source of inspiration. I am forever grateful to have you in my life. ––––––––––––––––––––––––––– C ONTENTS –––––––––––––––––––––––––– About the Author Acknowledgments Introduction xiii xv xvii CHAPTER ONE The Death of Management 1 Becoming an Executive Sales Coach But I’m Already Coaching . . . 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Storm Born Chapter Eighteen Free Essays

It was like deja vu. Two fights, two blackouts, and two â€Å"mornings after† back in my own bed. Talk about tedious. We will write a custom essay sample on Storm Born Chapter Eighteen or any similar topic only for you Order Now Only this time, I wasn’t alone in bed. I knew Kiyo was with me even before I opened my eyes. I recognized his smell, the way his arms wrapped around me. They held me with delicacy now, not with the fierceness that usually seized him. â€Å"You don’t quit,† I murmured, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. â€Å"Even wounded, you’re still trying to get me back in bed.† â€Å"I’ve already got you here.† He lay on his side, his eyes staring into mine. Smiling, he ran a hand over my hair, smoothing it back. â€Å"I was so worried about you.† I snuggled against him, slowly dredging up memories from last night. â€Å"I was worried about you too. What happened? Why wouldn’t you change back?† â€Å"I did†¦eventually.† Well, that was obvious. I waited expectantly, needing more. â€Å"Being a kitsune isn’t just about the novelty of turning into a fox. It’s more than that. It’s like†¦I also can turn into – I don’t know – a fox god. No. That’s not right. I don’t know how to describe it.† â€Å"A superfox?† His soft laughter vibrated against my forehead, and he kissed the skin there. â€Å"That’s not quite right either. The foxes of the Otherworld are like the progenitors of mortal foxes in this world. They’re stronger, more powerful, wilder. I can change into one of those, but to do so†¦I almost have to give up my humanity. They’re too animal, too†¦I don’t know, primordial. When I’m a normal red fox, I’m still pretty much the same as I am now unless I’ve been in that form for a really long time. Then the human part starts to go. But for your ‘superfox,’ I’m already gone in one transformation. I can hang on to only a few human instincts – like that I had to fight that thing and that I had to protect you.† I took all this in, frowning. â€Å"But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t change back.† â€Å"It takes time to go in and out of that form. The change is more than physical. I have to give up my human nature to go in, my fox nature to come out. Both are hard. That’s why it took me awhile to even help in the first place. I had to make a quick call, even though it left you undefended. I thought I’d do more damage in the other form.† â€Å"Yeah, you did do a pretty good job. But you sure scared me there.† I fell silent, recalling those terrible moments of uncertainty while I bled all over myself. â€Å"When did you finally change back?† â€Å"Not long after you passed out, I think.† â€Å"That would explain why I’m still alive.† He nodded. â€Å"You lost a lot of blood. You needed ten stitches.† I blinked. â€Å"Did you take me to a doctor?† He grinned. â€Å"You bet I did.† It took me a moment to catch on. I pulled back the covers and lifted the skirt of one of my racier and rarely used nightgowns – how’d I get dressed in that anyway? – and saw black stitches standing out starkly against my skin, off to the side of my stomach. â€Å"You did this?† I exclaimed. â€Å"You stitched me up? Without a doctor?† â€Å"I am a doctor. I do this all the time.† â€Å"Yeah†¦to cats and dogs. Not to people.† â€Å"It’s exactly the same. We’re animals too.† I eyed the stitches uneasily. The skin around them was red. â€Å"Was everything sanitized?† He made a disparaging sound in his throat. â€Å"Of course it was. The standards are the same. Come on, stop worrying. It was either that or let you bleed to death in the car. I had a kit in the back and used it.† â€Å"How’d you have enough light out there?† â€Å"The overhead lamp still worked.† I couldn’t believe he’d stitched me up in a smashed car with a vet’s kit. Improvisation at its best. â€Å"Did the car actually start?† â€Å"Sort of†¦I got us back to the freeway before it died. I found your cell phone and called Tim.† â€Å"Poor Tim. When I first told him I was a shaman, I think he thought it was as fake as his own Indian charade.† â€Å"Wait – he’s not actually Indian? I’ve been trying forever to figure out what tribe he’s from.† â€Å"He’s from the tribe of Tim Warkoski. It’s ridiculous, but – â€Å" The air in the room rippled, pressure building. I had to blink a few times to ensure the shimmering around us wasn’t in my head. Kiyo propped himself up, alert and wary. The pressure abruptly faded. A rift from the Otherworld opened up in front of us, and suddenly Dorian stood on a small table in the corner. Not unexpectedly, it promptly broke under his weight, making a horrible crashing sound as its pieces and contents fell to the floor. To his credit, he sidestepped the disaster rather gracefully, easily landing both feet on the floor. I winced, seeing the anchor ring lying among the debris. I’d set it on the table, not considering the consequences of Dorian arriving exactly where it lay. â€Å"What the hell – † Kiyo started to climb out of bed, but I was in his way. I laid a restraining hand on his chest. â€Å"No, it’s all right. He’s here for our next lesson. Jesus†¦I can’t believe it’s that time already.† I’d lost a lot of time since the car. Dorian wore his usual simple but fine clothes, covered by another elaborate robe. This one was black satin, edged in silver and small seed pearls. If the present circumstances surprised him, he didn’t show it. He kept his face typically unimpressed and sardonic. His smile twisted as he regarded us. â€Å"I can come back later if it’s more convenient. I do so hate to interrupt.† â€Å"No, no,† I said hastily, sitting up and swinging my legs over the bed’s edge. The movement uncomfortably tugged the skin around my stitches. â€Å"We were just, um†¦resting.† Dorian arched an eyebrow. â€Å"You rest in that?† I glanced down, flushing. I’d worn this exactly once when Dean and I had gone to Mexico for a weekend. The nightgown was pale green, its top and bottom hems ornamented with elaborate green leaves and tiny pink flowers. The mid-thigh-length skirt was sheer chiffon. Note to self: Never let Kiyo dress me again, unconsciousness notwithstanding. Tim chose that moment to walk in, summoned by the noise. â€Å"Eug, what†¦Ã¢â‚¬  His mouth dropped – and not just because of me. I looked around at us all: me in my nightgown, Kiyo bare-chested, Dorian in his extravagant robes, and Tim in his Native getup. â€Å"God,† I muttered, standing up, â€Å"we look like the Village People.† I pulled the terry cloth robe over me, wondering how I always seemed to be half-naked lately. Tim continued to stare, wearing the shocked look of one who has just walked in on his parents having sex. â€Å"Everything’s fine,† I told him. He still didn’t move, and I waved a hand in front of his face. â€Å"Hey, wake up. Think you can make some breakfast?† He blinked. â€Å"It’s three in the afternoon.† I gave him a pathetic look. The familiarity of it seemed to snap him back to normal. He could never resist it. That, or he felt he owed me food for the free rent. â€Å"What do you want?† â€Å"Eggs and toast.† â€Å"Healthy or unhealthy toast?† I considered. â€Å"Healthy.† â€Å"Are your, uh, friends eating too?† I glanced at the other two men. â€Å"I’d love to,† replied Dorian with a cordial half-bow. â€Å"Thank you.† â€Å"Famished,† said Kiyo, eyes still narrowed on Dorian. â€Å"Thanks, Tim, you’re the best.† I practically pushed him out the door. â€Å"Charming man,† remarked Dorian politely. He glanced around. â€Å"And a charming room.† The broken table aside, the room’s other contents included: a pile of laundry, the wicker chair, a case of ammunition, a dresser, and a small desk with my laptop and a half-finished puzzle of the Eiffel Tower. The room didn’t have a lot of space, so everything had been jammed in. It all seemed so chintzy compared to the opulence of his bedroom. Kiyo also got out of bed, wearing just a pair of jeans. â€Å"You want to tell me again what’s going on?† â€Å"I already did.† I opened my dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt that said I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT on it. â€Å"We’re doing my next lesson.† â€Å"She can’t do it today,† Kiyo told Dorian. â€Å"She was in a fight last night.† â€Å"Unless I’m mistaken, she gets in a fight every night.† â€Å"This one was bad. She was injured. Didn’t you see the stitches?† â€Å"My humble eyes had better things to occupy themselves with than her stitches.† â€Å"Hey, guys?† I snapped. â€Å"I’m still here, you know. Stop talking about me in the third person.† Kiyo walked over and touched my arm. â€Å"Eugenie, this is crazy. You need to go back to bed.† â€Å"Today’s lesson will not require physical exertion,† said Dorian primly. â€Å"There, you see?† I said. â€Å"I’ve got to keep going with our deal.† Kiyo looked darkly from me to Dorian. â€Å"Your ‘deal’ doesn’t seem to be doing a lot of good. I thought it was going to keep your would-be rapists away.† I had turned my back to them, opened the robe, and started pulling my jeans on. I froze, considering. â€Å"The fachan wasn’t trying to rape me,† I said slowly. â€Å"He wanted to kill me.† â€Å"Are you sure?† â€Å"He tried to throw me through a windshield. That’s not very romantic.† â€Å"A fachan?† asked Dorian. I shed the robe and nightgown and pulled the shirt over my head before turning back around to face them. I gave Dorian the short version of what had happened. He stood up from where he’d been leaning against my desk and strolled over to the window, hands clasped behind his back. â€Å"A fachan,† he mused. â€Å"Here. Curious.† â€Å"Not really. Not compared to anything else that’s happened to me,† I reminded him. He pointed out the window. â€Å"You live in a desert. Fachans like bodies of water. You have a lot of enemies, my dear, but I doubt any fachan would hate you enough to show up here of his own volition.† â€Å"What are you saying?† asked Kiyo. â€Å"That someone went to considerable trouble to summon him here. Someone with either a lot of raw power or simply an affinity for water creatures.† â€Å"Who could do that?† I asked. â€Å"Any number of people. Maiwenn could.† Kiyo took a few dangerous steps toward him. â€Å"Maiwenn didn’t do that.† Dorian smiled, unfazed by Kiyo’s intimidating presence. They were the same height, but Dorian’s frame was lean and slim, Kiyo’s broader and more muscled. â€Å"You’re probably right,† Dorian said after several tense moments of silence. â€Å"Particularly since she’s been so under the weather lately.† Kiyo’s face grew darker. I glanced back and forth uneasily, uncertain as to what I was in the middle of. â€Å"Do you guys know each other?† Dorian extended a hand to Kiyo, cool and collected. â€Å"I know of you, but I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I am Dorian, king of the Oak Land.† Kiyo grudgingly took his hand. â€Å"I know who you are.† â€Å"This is Kiyo,† I said. â€Å"Delightful to meet you. You’re a†¦kitsune.† Dorian said the word in an odd tone. It wasn’t exactly disrespectful, but it clearly implied they were not equals. I grabbed both their arms and steered them out. â€Å"No pissing contests. Come on. It’ll only take Tim about five minutes to whip up the food.† Whatever antagonism existed between Kiyo and Dorian, it took a break as the gentry king entertained himself with the rest of my house. He was like a kid, unable to keep his hands off of everything. Well, everything that wasn’t made of plastic or an iron affiliate. My living room was a veritable wonderland, with everything conveniently piled up in junk heaps for him to explore. â€Å"What’s the purpose of this?† He held a fluorescent pink Slinky, tossing it from side to side so he didn’t have to touch the plastic extensively. My impression was gentry could touch the taboo substances in small doses with minor discomfort; prolonged exposure grew much more uncomfortable. Charge it up with power, and it could kill them. â€Å"It doesn’t really have a purpose,† I decided. â€Å"You just sort of†¦play with it when you’re bored.† He tossed it back and forth, watching it spring up in arches. â€Å"Let me see it,† I said. I held it, closing my eyes. My focus was back now with the excruciating pain vanquished. I concentrated on the Slinky, putting a small piece of my essence into it. I handed it back. â€Å"Wrap it up and take it with you. It’ll be my anchor.† He grinned. With so many other distractions, we eventually had to drag him to the kitchen table when the food was ready. â€Å"Haven’t you ever been in the human world before?† I asked, once we all sat down. â€Å"There you go again, assuming we all just traipse over here for no good reason.† â€Å"So you haven’t.† â€Å"Well, actually, I’ve vacationed here a number of times. Not in this desolate place, of course, but several other nice spots.† I rolled my eyes and slapped butter on my toast. It was made of good, hearty bread, chock-full of whole wheat and about a billion other grains. You could use this stuff as sandpaper. I doused my coffee with sugar and cream, gulping it to chase down some ibuprofen. I might not be dying anymore, but myriad aches and stiffness filled my body. I didn’t think I could handle regularly getting into high-magnitude fights every other night. When the whole prophecy thing had surfaced, I had joked that I preferred attempts on my life to sexual advances. I didn’t really believe that anymore. At least when the bad guys wanted my clothes off, it bought me some time. That fachan, however, had had no intentions short of crushing me. And he’d done a pretty good job of doing that. I had never fought something so massive before. Most of my fights, before this all started, had been with spirits and elementals. I could take them out with barely any effort. The fachan had been in a different league. The spirit army from the other day had also been new. Dorian’s words rang back to me. The fachan had been deliberately sent. But by whom? One of the many who had a grudge against Odile? Someone like Maiwenn who wanted the prophecy to fail? Maiwenn herself? This latter thought bothered me. She’d seemed more or less trustworthy, despite her bland personality. If she turned into an enemy, it was going to create some serious friction between Kiyo and me. We finished breakfast, and Dorian declared we had to go outside for our lesson. I took one look at him and the scalding sunshine and saw imminent disaster for that perfect, alabaster skin. Figuring he wouldn’t want my prissy, vanilla sunscreen, I dug him out a wide-brimmed cotton hat of Tim’s that looked only mildly ridiculous. â€Å"Are you going to be able to do this?† I asked, leading Dorian out to my back patio. Tim had left for drumming practice, but Kiyo followed us, still watchful. â€Å"Your magic’s weaker on this side.† Dorian draped his elegant robes over a lawn chair. â€Å"Not me who needs to do the magic. And really, I doubt you will either. Not in the way you’re thinking of. Hmm†¦yes, this area may work better than I’d hoped.† He surveyed the patio area and the small grassless yard surrounded by a stucco wall. Dragging up another chair, he set it near the center of the patio, facing the house, and beckoned me to it. I sat down. â€Å"Now what? More meditation?† He shook his head. â€Å"Now we need a bowl of water.† â€Å"Kiyo? Can you grab us one? There’s a big ceramic bowl in the back of one of my cupboards.† Kiyo silently complied, looking as though leaving us alone for even one minute would result in Dorian trying something. I found that protectiveness endearing, albeit a bit over the top. And then Dorian did try something. â€Å"What are those?† I exclaimed. â€Å"Think of them as†¦learning aids.† He had produced a handful of silken cords from the deep pockets of his robe, all in different colors. â€Å"What are you – no. You are not serious.† He had moved behind my chair and grasped my hands. I jerked away. â€Å"You’re trying to tie me up?† â€Å"Not for sinister purposes, I assure you, although if you’d like to experiment with them later, I’d be happy to show you their various and sundry uses. For now, simply trust me that they’ll be useful.† I continued to regard the cords warily. He shook his head, smiling. Moving behind me, he gently ran his hands down my arms. â€Å"You still don’t trust me. And yet you do. An interesting mix. You fear me but want to connect with me. Do you remember what I said the night we met?† He knelt down, speaking softly in my ear. â€Å"This is exactly the way it will be when you come to my bed. You’ll surrender yourself, and though it’ll scare you, you’ll exult in it too.† â€Å"I think you’re imagining more to our charade than there is. And I don’t really see myself feeling exultant over being tied up.† â€Å"Have you ever tried it?† His fingers slowly slid back up to the sleeves of my shirt, like butterflies on my skin. It was†¦nice. I shrugged him off. â€Å"No. And I don’t need to. Besides, whatever your kinky intentions are, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got something going with Kiyo.† â€Å"Ah. Of course you do. From what I hear, he’s always ‘got something going.'† I stiffened. â€Å"Don’t try to cause trouble.† â€Å"I’m attempting nothing of the sort. Just stating a fact. A man with human blood is just as appealing to our women as you are to our men.† â€Å"I already know about Maiwenn.† â€Å"I see. What do you know?† â€Å"The truth. They used to be involved. Now they’re not.† â€Å"Ah. And that doesn’t bother you? Especially considering it’s likely she’ll try to kill you someday?† I turned around as much as I could and glared at him. â€Å"I meant it: Don’t try to pick a fight. I trust Kiyo, and I like Maiwenn. End of story. Now if you’re going to tie me up, just get it over with.† He rose from his crouch, the sensuality gone from his voice as he began the business of binding me. â€Å"I’d never dream of picking a fight. Your pet fox in there will break my neck if I so much as look at you the wrong way.† â€Å"Don’t act like you’re actually afraid of him. You can supposedly bring down buildings.† I relaxed back in the chair and let him tie my hands together behind me. He took a long time in doing it, like he was weaving or braiding. â€Å"Why, Eugenie, are you saying you’d wager on me in a fight? I’m touched. Very touched. Although, I do hear foxes have very sharp claws. How are those scratches on your back, by the way?† Kiyo walked out just then, carrying the bowl of water. He froze when he saw Dorian tying a cord above my breasts and around my upper arms. â€Å"What’s this?† â€Å"An awakening,† said Dorian. â€Å"It’s fine,† I said. â€Å"Set the water over there.† Kiyo did so and then stood next to me, arms crossed and eyes on the gentry king. Again, Dorian took his time in tying my upper body. He used multiple cords, and able to see better this time, I realized he had indeed woven them into an intricate pattern. Aesthetic and functional. â€Å"There.† With a last tight knot, he straightened up and regarded his work. â€Å"Not bad. It seems I haven’t forgotten how to tie a decent knot after all. One more thing, and we’re set.† â€Å"One more thing† turned out to be a blindfold. â€Å"No way,† I said. â€Å"Eugenie, my sweet, your outraged protests are adorable, but they only continue to slow us down. If you want me to help you, then let me. If you don’t, then take me to one of those places where human women wear revealing clothing and quickly lose their virtue through alcohol.† I let him blindfold me, feeling uneasy. I trusted Kiyo and sort of trusted Dorian, but the other bindings had already unsettled me. I didn’t like being trapped or in someone else’s control. The bright world went dark as fabric covered my eyes. â€Å"This is all giving me a bad feeling,† Kiyo said nearby. â€Å"On the contrary,† said Dorian, â€Å"it’s giving me a very warm, very pleasant feeling. But I suppose we should return to the lesson at hand, hmm?† â€Å"Is this the part where you explain the bondage getup?† I asked. â€Å"Or where I find out you just did it for fun.† â€Å"No, no. As hilarious as that would be, I do have my reasons. Now. I’m going to pick up this bowl of water that Kato so kindly fetched – â€Å" â€Å"It’s Kiyo,† came the irritated response. â€Å"So sorry. Anyway, I’m going to set it somewhere out here in this miniature wasteland, and you will tell me where it is.† â€Å"Oh. I get it. I’m supposed to, like, work on my non-visual senses? Listen to where you set it?† â€Å"You won’t use any of your physical senses at all.† I heard him walk away, presumably with the water, but I couldn’t tell where he set it. He paced and paced in circles, kicking rocks and scuffing his shoes so I was clueless by the time he returned to me. When he spoke next, his words were right by my ear again. â€Å"Now, given freedom, even with just a blindfold, you’d be inclined to move and want to use something – anything – to find the water. You’d turn around, sniff the air, whatever. Now you have to accept that all of that is gone. You cannot rely on what you usually can. You are trapped and powerless – more or less. Give in to that. Open yourself up to whatever comes. Find the water.† â€Å"How?† â€Å"By reaching out to it. Tap into a sense other than the usual five. Remember the exercises we did last time, about reaching beyond yourself – in this world, not the spirit one.† â€Å"I thought magic was inborn. Isn’t that what separates humans and gentry?† â€Å"It is inborn. And your inner magic summons and controls storms. To do that, you must summon and control the appropriate elements. And to do that, you must be able to find them. Hence, you focus outward.† â€Å"How do I do that?† â€Å"Just concentrate. But relax too. Think about the water. How it feels, what it’s like. Spread your consciousness out around you, but don’t go into a trance and let your spirit slip out. That’d be cheating.† â€Å"How long does it take?† â€Å"As long as you need.† He retreated, and I sat there and waited for some revelation. Okay. Somewhere around me was a bowl of water. And something inside of me was supposed to be able to sense it. I wouldn’t have believed any of it if the living room on the other side of the patio door didn’t stand as proof of my supernatural powers. But I hadn’t had to think to cause the storm. This was different. All I mostly felt at first was my own body. Dorian’s binds didn’t hurt me, but they were snug. The stitched-up cut stung a little. The back of my head ached. My leg muscles felt stretched and inflamed. I slowly took inventory of every part of me, assessing how each one felt. I could feel the beat of my own heart, the steadiness of my breathing. After that, I started concentrating on the stuff around me. I heard someone, Dorian maybe, slide up a chair and sit down. A plane droned overhead. One of my neighbors kept a bird feeder, and sparrows regularly chirped and squabbled around it. The harsher cries of less melodic birds sounded in the distance. My street had few houses and was removed from real traffic, but a block or so away, a car started and then drove off. I thought about water, its appeal growing as the sun beat down. I had put on my own sunscreen and was grateful for it. Still, I could feel sweat pouring off of me. Water would be cool, refreshing. My mom’s house had a pool, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to dive into that crystal-blue surface. I thought about the bowl of water, thinking of its cool temperature, the wetness on my skin. I tried to feel it, to call to it. â€Å"There,† I said at last. I don’t know how much time had passed. Awhile. â€Å"Where?† asked Dorian. â€Å"Four o’clock.† â€Å"What?† â€Å"She means over there,† I heard Kiyo say. Presumably he pointed. â€Å"No,† said Dorian. â€Å"What?† â€Å"Sorry.† â€Å"Was I close?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Not even a little?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Damn it! Get me out of this.† I wriggled against my constraints. â€Å"Hardly.† Dorian’s voice held mild surprise. â€Å"We must try again.† â€Å"Oh, dear lord. This might be even more boring than the meditation,† I grumbled. â€Å"Can I at least get something to drink?† He hesitated. â€Å"Actually, I think your odds will increase if you’re thirsty.† â€Å"Oh, come on – â€Å" â€Å"Here we go,† said Dorian. I heard him get up and walk around again, and once more, I couldn’t tell where the bowl ended up. When he returned to his chair, I tried again. More time passed as I concentrated my little heart out. At one point, I heard someone get up and move toward the door. â€Å"Who is that?† â€Å"Me,† said Dorian. â€Å"I’m bored.† â€Å"What? You’re my teacher.† â€Å"The kitsune will call if you need me.† â€Å"I don’t believe this,† I said when he was gone. â€Å"Hey, this was your idea,† said Kiyo. I heard him shift in a chair, getting comfortable. I was on the verge of my next guess when Dorian came outside again. â€Å"There. Nine o’clock.† Kiyo must have pointed again. â€Å"No,† said Dorian. He made me do it again, and by then, I was furious. My poor muscles, already put through enough, were locking up from lack of movement. The heat was unbearable. To make matters worse, Kiyo asked if Dorian wanted something to drink and then went inside. He returned, and I heard the sound of a two-liter of pop opening, followed by the filling of two glasses. After that, they started carrying on casual conversation. â€Å"Eugenie will be at my Beltane ball,† Dorian explained, â€Å"as my special guest.† â€Å"Sounds great.† â€Å"Your enthusiasm is palpable.† â€Å"Just not my thing, that’s all.† â€Å"Ah, pity. Because if you wanted to come, I’d be happy to extend the invitation.† â€Å"I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.† â€Å"It’s no trouble at all. You could come with Eugenie. I always make special arrangements for dignitaries’ entourages and servants.† â€Å"Will you two shut up?† I asked. â€Å"I’m working here.† They fell silent. Water, water. I needed that goddamned water so that Dorian would untie me and I could return to air conditioning. I’d also drink a gallon of water while I was at it. Maybe two or three. In fact, when I found that stupid bowl, I’d dump it over my head. Sweat pooled along the hem of my shirt and where the cords and blindfold pressed against my skin. I’d probably sweated away the sunscreen and would burn. As if my body hadn’t been through enough. Where the hell was that water? Why couldn’t I find it? I thought again about my mom’s pool, vowing I’d pay her a visit tomorrow. God, it was so hot. I just wanted to be cooler. Water, water, water. I felt like Helen Keller. Or maybe one of those people in the Lakota sun dances where excessive heat exposure induced hallucinations. Maybe I could imagine the water. I sighed, and then, somehow, I felt coolness touch me. It was a reprieve from the heat. I straightened up as much as I could. Had I done it? Was this what it felt like to touch the water? The third time was the charm. Yes. There it was again. Like cool, moist air blowing at me from the east. I could taste its dampness, hanging around me like humidity in the sauna. I inclined my head in the direction I’d sensed the cool air. â€Å"I’ve got it. Three o’clock.† â€Å"No.† â€Å"The hell it isn’t!† I heard Dorian get up. He sighed. â€Å"I think we’d better quit for the day.† â€Å"But I swear I had it! I could feel it! I was thinking about water so hard.† â€Å"I know you were.† He undid the blindfold, and I looked up. Billowing clouds, colored like lead, inked out the sky. Wind blew at me from the east – not imagined after all – picking up in strength. Great, heavy drops fell around us, landing with loud splashes. Water at last. How to cite Storm Born Chapter Eighteen, Essay examples