Hey, ok. I'm doing a short story for my english gcse coursework.
The plot is, this girl goes into court to give evidence against a guy that raped her.
DON'T COPY ANY OF IT, IT'S PLAGERISMZZZZZZZZZZZZ. ok anyway, any help will be happily accepted.
A towering lady abruptly enters the room. Light fills the room. It was, after being sat here for over half an hour, quite an adjustment. She doesn’t smile, and neither do I. I know why she’s here, and I start to stand up, slowly forcing my chair to move out, away from the table.
“They’re ready for you” she says coldly.
I take a deep breath in and try to prepare myself for what is about to happen, what a waste of time that was. My legs start shaking, uncontrollably. Thoughts fly through my mind. I’m going to mess this up, I’m going to break down, and I’m going to get punished if they think I’m lying. I feel totally vulnerable. Then I come out of my daydream, and remember why I was here. Be strong they told me. Be strong?! How can I be strong in a situation like this? I come out of what seems another daydream. The woman walks over to me and gives me a sympathetic look, but I know she doesn’t mean it. She probably does this day in, day out. She’s too informal. I look up at her and give a false smile, but I really just want to scream at her and tell her to get out my life. I just want to get away, and stay away from this life, of what seems hell. Back to reality, I really need to stop side tracking with these thoughts. Concentrate and be strong. Yeah, right. Go in and say what you have to say and that’s it, everything should be fine.
“Through that door, turn left.” The women said uneasily. “Room seven” she continued after pausing. I look up at her; seriously I want to smack her! I know that she doesn’t care about me, so why should I care about her? I walk over to the door, take a hold of the cold handle, twist, pull and walk through the door. I start welling up, water fills my eyes. God sake, my mascara is just bound to run.
I use my hands and brush my cardigan, making sure it has no creases. I wipe the tears away from my eyes, being careful not to rub my mascara. Out of the corner of my eyes, I’m looking at the room numbers, and I guess that room number seven is ahead of me after seeing number six.
ITS NOT COMPLETE YET, THAT'S HALF OF IT!