Juvenile Delinquency Has Increased Throughout The Years

INTRODUCTION Juvenile Delinquency has increased throughout the years. In 2008 the United States police arrested about 2.11 million juveniles. Juvenile arrest rates had increased in 2005 and again in 2006. Data show increases in some offense categories but declines in most. Most changes being less than 10% in either direction. According to the data arson at 47% is one of the biggest crimes that juveniles commit. Following are robbery at 27%, burglary at 27%, and property crimes at 26%. Juveniles are creating more problems for parents, schools, and communities. In 2007 juvenile courts dealt with a large amount of juvenile delinquents. About 4,600 cases per day were being treated at the courts (Puzzanchera, Charles). One main reasons for the†¦show more content†¦Research has shown that from a family of four or more children are more likely to become juvenile delinquents than those who come from a three or less children homes. This research is important because understanding what makes a juvenile delinquent is necessary to know. Parents can be educated on what is affecting their teen to contribute to delinquent behavior. The family structure has been avoided by many citizens. Educating the public on the family structure can make a different in a teen’s life. Social Scientist started to examine the family structure when they began to notice a high divorce rate that began in the 1960s. They wanted to know how divorce was affecting children mentally and if they were more likely to commit crimes than those who had both parents. Social scientist studies began to show that children who come from divorced parents tend to have more academic, behavioral, and emotional problems. When parents decide to divorce or separate, the child or children begin to stress because they know that everything is going to change and this can cause fear among the child. Studies have shown that a few children begin to adapt to their parents separation. However, more than one-third of children were clinically depressed, failing in school, had low social communication, were unable to sleep and eat, and hoped that one day their parents would get back together. Many of them

The Ethics Of Genetic Engineering - 1639 Words

Genetic engineering has to do with manipulating organisms and DNA to create body characteristics. The practice of genetic DNA has shown an increasing amount over the past years. The process of genetic enhancement involves manipulating organisms by using biotechnologies. The technique is by removing a DNA from one life form and transferring it to another set of traits or organism. Certain barriers are conquered, and the procedure involves changing a form of cells, resulting from an improvement or developed organism. GMO which is a (Genetic Modified Organisms) is the operation done in a laboratory where DNA genetic from one particular species or animals is directly forced into another gene from an unrelated subject of plants or even animals.†¦show more content†¦One of the biggest pictures that are against genetic engineering is that humans are not supposed to play the role of God. DNA is a unique thing to every person. Bioengineering itself involves the very technical aspects of modification, and the enhancement of stem cells or DNA and this process can change the human structure. â€Å"The progress of civilization has been having been largely dependent upon the out ‘interference with nature’.†(Encyclopedia of Applied Plant Sciences). Biotechnology interventions are used to advance human brains and our future to the extreme. The process of genetic engineering is very unpredictable and dramatic that it will have a major effect on its environment. Human genetic manipulation is considered unethical and dangerous for the most part. Human genetic alteration is illegal in many countries, but it is used in some places to cure gene diseases. The process of changing the genetic DNA of when a baby is born can be passed down the line of the persons. Swapping bad and unwanted genes for a better one is part of the process. There are many potential advantages gained from this operation as well as some dangers. Considering the ethical implications of the gene enhancement the result might cause a gene problem. The advanced technology application can make a huge different especially improving the quality of a human being by fixing an unwanted and inheritable gene defects. Many people are affectedShow MoreRelatedThe Ethics Of Genet ic Engineering2194 Words   |  9 Pagescalled genetic engineering. Some of the living things being experimented on are live people, plants, and animals. Today scientists are debating on the morals of genetic engineering due to what the community thinks of it, because of the christian s viewpoint of genetic engineering. To some christians it may pose a threat to their, but to others it may be a blessing or a gift. Genetic Engineering is a growing breakthrough in the science community. â€Å"Over the last 30 years, the field of genetic engineeringRead MoreEthics of Genetic Engineering Essay637 Words   |  3 PagesEthics of Genetic Engineering Within the last two decades scientists have developed several new techniques, which manipulate and alter the genes found in the cells of living organisms. This wonder of the century, genetic engineering has turned heredity --the passing of inheritable characteristics from parent to off spring- from a natural, random event into a process that can be artificially controlled and exploited. It has the potential of giving humanity unprecedented power over life itselfRead MoreThe Ethics Of Human Genetic Engineering1454 Words   |  6 PagesBiemmnet Eshete Professor Eng 112 2 November 2015 The Ethics of Human Genetic Engineering DNA stands for Deoxyribonucleic acid. Deoxyribonucleic corrosive is an atom that conveys a large portion of the hereditary guidelines utilized as a part of the improvement, working and propagation of all known living creatures and numerous infections. The National Institutes of Health and Welcome Trust from the London UK and Craig Vendor of Celera Genomics from Maryland USA at the same time exhibited the groupingRead MoreThe Ethics Of Human Genetic Engineering1424 Words   |  6 PagesImagine the possibility of eliminating serious genetic diseases from the world. Imagine the idea of treating, preventing or even curing diseases that are yet to be cured. Imagine the feeling of being given improved health and a prolonged lifespan. This can all be accomplished with the aide of genetic engineering. Human genetic engineering refers to the process of directly manipulating human DNA to produce wanted results. DNA is a simple but very complex chemical that has the power to change the worldRe ad MoreThe Ethics Of Genetic Engineering Essay1940 Words   |  8 Pagesnot it improves the lives of humans and whether or not it is considered part of the social norm. It stands to reason that Genetic engineering can be accepted and subsequently refined to evolve the human race, as shown with its ability to improve quality of life through advancements in agriculture and medicine. Genetic engineering is the manual modification of an organism’s genetic composition by artificial means in order to transfer the specific traits, genes from one organism into a plant or animalRead MoreThe Ethics of Genetic Engineering Essay2933 Words   |  12 PagesBioethics Outline: It is my belief that genetic engineering has promise to better mankind, and it is our ethical obligation to research it but not exploit it. There is a need to have a morally correct legislation that guides the way science develops this. Outline: I. Social a) Personal Privacy i. Individual rights b) Society i. Implication on society II. Religious a) Religious concerns b) Different religion views III. Medical Benefits a) What are they b) WhatRead MoreEssay about The Morals and Ethics of Genetic Engineering3310 Words   |  14 Pagesbreakthrough, genetic engineering has been on a path toward changing the world since its introduction in 1973 by Stanley Cohen and Herbert Boyer (What). However, as genetic engineering slowly permeates the lives of humanity, the morals and ethics behind what are now common practices are entering public attention, and as a culture we are left to question whether the change brought on by such a discovery bring benefits and positive change, or damage and destruction. Genetic engineering is justifiedRead MoreEthics of Human Cloning and Genetic Engineering Essay1843 Words   |  8 Pagesunfertilized sheep egg and removed its genetic material. They then placed the empty egg in a dish with a cell from an adult sheeps udder, which contained a full complement of the adult sheeps genes. Finally the scientists applied an electric spark, which caused the two cells to fuse and begin dividing. The embryo was then transplanted into the womb of a surrogate mother to grow. The original aim of Dr Wilmuts nuclear transfer work was to find better ways to make genetic modifications in animals, by growingRead MoreThe Genetic Engineering Debate Essay1411 Words   |  6 Pagesrecent discussions of genetic engineering, a controversial issue has been whether genetic engineering is ethical or not. In â€Å"The Person, the Soul, and Genetic Engineering,† JC Polkinghorne discusses about the moral status of the very early embryo and therapeutic cloning. J. H. Brooke’s article â€Å"Commentary on: The Person, the Soul, and Genetic Engineering† comments and state opinions that counter Polkinghorne’s article. On the other hand John Harris’s â€Å"â€Å"Goodbye Dolly?† The Ethics of Human Cloning† examinesRead MoreSale - Pro Plans Are 20% Off Today View Plans. Gradeproof1164 Words   |  5 PagesSentence Count: 28 Readability: 11.52 % Grade Level: 16.59 years Reading Time: 2 minutes Speaking Time: 4 minutes Type your title here... Genetic Engineering is a common theme of Gattaca, Splice, and Blade Runner. Gattaca takes place in a future where the best opportunities are given people that have the best genes, as a result from Genetic Engineering (cite). The main character Vincent has not been genetically engineered and has many health issues like Myopia (cite). He aspires to become an

Richard Rodriguez The Son Of Mexican Immigrants - 977 Words

Born in San Francisco 1944, Richard Rodriguez is the son of Mexican immigrants and lived two lives incompatible to each other – his life at home and school. Rodriguez revered his teachers and aspired to be like them, mimicking many of their opinions and physical gestures. At an early age, Rodriguez realized there was a separation between his school life and home life. There were certain things that could only be shared at home or at school. When Rodriguez read The Uses of Literacy by Richard Hoggart, he encountered a term that described his way of life – the scholarship boy. Rodriguez was able to finally understand that he was not the only one who lived in a world of separation. In an interview with Rodriguez, he states that he believes that diversity is something that has no value but still scares him â€Å"But the simple fact that we are unlike each other is a terrifying notion. I have often found myself in foreign settings where I became suddenly aware that I was no t like the people around me. That, to me, is not a pleasant discovery.† (London). Rodriguez’s interpretation of the scholarship boy may not be a common experience for others, although some people can pull some parts together to describe themselves – Rodriguez’s belief that education can change us in some way is one that many can relate to. My early education began in Los Angeles, California – where I showed traits found in the scholarship boy. I had a deep respect for my teachers and idolized them, similar to howShow MoreRelatedEssay on Education: Causes Effects584 Words   |  3 PagesSome of these conflicts are described in works such as quot;Ariaquot; by Richard Rodriguez, and quot;The Right to Writequot; by Frederic Douglass. nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;nbsp;quot;Ariaquot; comes from the biography of Richard Rodriguez, the son of two Mexican immigrants. He describes his struggle to grow up in a primarily white, English-speaking area. As a young child knowing less than fifty English words, Rodriguez began his schooling in Sacramento, California. He not only faced the obstacleRead MoreAria A Memoir Of A Bilingual Childhood Analysis1530 Words   |  7 PagesImmigrants often are overlooked and mistreated because of their seemingly lower status. Many immigrants move to America to pursue better education or work options. Many of these immigrants bring families or meet people in America and start families here. These children have challenges of their own, moving to a new home, or the seemingly simple problem of the language barrier. Congress tried to overcome this challenge by passing the Bilingual Education Act (more commonly known as Title VII) in 1967Read Moreâ€Å"Richard Rodriguez: A Bilingual Childhood† Es say1380 Words   |  6 Pagesâ€Å"Richard Rodriguez: A Bilingual Childhood† For more than 300 years, immigrants from every corner of the globe have settled in America, creating the most diverse and heterogeneous nation on Earth. Though immigrants have given much to the country, their process of changing from their homeland to the new land has never been easy. To immigrate does not only mean to come and live in a country after leaving your own country, but it also means to deal with many new and unfamiliar situations, social backgroundsRead MoreAmerican Stereotypes of Immigrants Essay881 Words   |  4 Pagesfor many generations. The country earned its title by accepting immigrants of various cultures and molding, or melting, them into the American lifestyle. However, the â€Å"melting pot† idea of America is starting to dissipate. According to a Newsweek Poll on the public, â€Å"only 20 percent still think America is a melting pot† (Morganthau and Wolfberg, par.4). As more Americans push away immigrants and create stereotypes against said im migrants, America continues to lose its title as a â€Å"melting pot.† ThereRead MoreRace and Richard Rodriguez3792 Words   |  16 Pages140 Chapter 4 Definition â€Å"Blaxicans† and Other Reinvented Americans Richard Rodriguez The son of immigrant Mexican parents in San Francisco, Richard Rodriguez (b. 1944) grew up in a Mexican American section of Sacramento. He was educated in Catholic grammar and high schools, and he attended Stanford and Columbia universities, where he took a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, as well as the Warburg Institute in Great Britain. He is the winner of a Fulbright Fellowship, a National EndowmentRead MoreHunger Of Memory By Richard Rodriquez1268 Words   |  6 Pagesfrom racial discrimination or bias at work, in neighborhoods, at school, etc., can all be challenges that people encounter when making a move to the U.S. Such challenges are described by Richard Rodriquez in his autobiography Hunger of Memory. In this passage, he explains how cultural differences between Mexican and American ways of life have shaped him into the person that he is today. He also chooses to highlights the problems that he faces growing up in a predominately white neighborhood, whileRead MoreLanguage Intimacy in Hunger of Memory by Richard Rodriguez Essay1715 Words   |  7 Pagesof Memory, author Richard Rodriguez describes his experiences as a Mexican immigrant. He tells anecdotes about his childhood in order to analyze the pressures which culture change imposed on him. Rodriguez also experienced guilt because he felt he had abandoned his Mexican roots by learning English, ceasing to speak Spanish. He then comes to the realization that intimacy is found in the feeling between two people conversing, not in the language in which they are conversing. Richard in the process ofRead MoreA New Language By Eva Hoffman And Hunger Of Memory By Richard Rodriguez1475 Words   |  6 Pagesexciting opportunities that it gives to immigrants. Lost in Translation: A Life in a New Language by Eva Hoffman and Hunger of Memory by Richard Rodriguez are autobiographies of an immigrant and child of immigrants that tell the stories of two young people who are trying to find their way in the exotic world of mid-20th century North America. Both writers began their time in the Americas feeling alienated and alone. Richard is the son of Mexican immigrants, and he begins his journey of assimilationRead MoreThe Strengths And Disadvantages Of English As A Second Language806 Words   |  4 Pagescame from Hunger of Memory written in 1981 by the Mexican-American author, Richard Rodriguez. He provides a solid argument against bilingual education, dedicated to those who support bilingual education and those who are against it. The purpose of Rodriguez’s memoir is to inform the readers of the adverse effects bilingual education has on an individual. Rodriguez’s memoir is about the struggles he faced growing up bilingual in America. Rodriguez discussed topics such as assimilating into the AmericanRead MoreMexican Immigrants And Their Mexican American Children Within The Novel Pocho By Jose Antonio Villareal1334 Words   |  6 PagesMartina Rodriguez 27 September 2017 ENG 101 Professor Arancibia In English 101 from a Latinx Perspective, the course has focused on the experiences of Mexican immigrants and their Mexican American children within the novel Pocho by Jose Antonio Villareal. This short novel focuses on the Rubio family. Though the text begins with Juan Rubio as the protagonist, early on, there is a shift and the only son, Richard Rubio becomes the protagonist. The setting of the novel is the early 20th century. The

Biography of Dr Arthur Wint Jamaican Olympic Athlete

Students Last Name 5 Students Name Professors Name Course Title April 8, 2013 Dr. Arthur Wint, Jamaican Olympic Athlete, Doctor, Ambassador Jamaican athletes continue to be a formidable force in track events, which was true during the Olympic Summer Games in London last summer and 64 years ago in the same city. The Jamaicans Herb McKenly and Arthur Wint won gold medals in the quarter mile and 400 meter final, respectively, in the 1948 London games (Carnegie 260). These events were made more remarkable by the fact that they competed against a strong team from the United States. Four years later, at the next Olympic Summer Games in Helsinki, Jamaican George Rhoden won gold in the 400 meter final and Mckenly again came in second. Even more remarkable was the Jamaican 4 x 400 meter relay Helsinki team, made up of Arthur Wint (now 32 years old), Herb McKenly, George Rhoden, and Leslie Laing, who beat what was then considered an unbeatable 400 meter relay team fielded by the United States while setting a new world record. When 6 foot 4 inch tall Arthur Wint won the first gold medal by a Jamaican Olympic athlete at the London Summer Games in 1948, he was already 28 years old and had seen combat as a fighter pilot for the British Air Force (Hirst, 2012). A year before the London games, Wint had begun to study medicine and became a licensed doctor a year after the Helsinki games. Following his win in Helsinki, the Queen of England made Wint a Member of the British Empire

The Twilight Saga 2 New Moon Chapter 3 THE END Free Essays

string(31) " Rosalie and Emmett this year\." I FELT ABSOLUTELY HIDEOUS IN THE MORNING. I HADN’T slept well; my arm burned and my head ached. It didn’t help my outlook that Edward’s face was smooth and remote as he kissed my forehead quickly and ducked out my window. We will write a custom essay sample on The Twilight Saga 2: New Moon Chapter 3 THE END or any similar topic only for you Order Now I was afraid of the time I’d spent unconscious, afraid that he might have been thinking about right and wrong again while he watched me sleep. The anxiety seemed to ratchet up the intensity of the pounding in my head. Edward was waiting for me at school, as usual, but his face was still wrong. There was something buried in his eyes that I couldn’t be sure ofand it scared me. I didn’t want to bring up last night, but I wasn’t sure if avoiding the subject would be worse. He opened my door for me. â€Å"How do you feel?† â€Å"Perfect,† I lied, cringing as the sound of the slamming door echoed in my head. We walked in silence, he shortening his stride to match mine. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but most of those questions would have to wait, because chey were for Alice: How was Jasper this morning? What had they said when I was gone? What had Rosalie said? And most importantly, what could she see happening now in her strange, imperfect visions of the future? Could she guess what Edward was thinking, why he was so gloomy? Was there a foundation for the tenuous, instinctive fears that I couldn’t seem to shake? The morning passed slowly. I was impatient to see Alice, though I wouldn’t be able to really talk to her with Edward there. Edward remained aloof. Occasionally he would ask about my arm, and I would lie. Alice usually beat us to lunch; she didn’t have to keep pace with a sloth like me. But she wasn’t at the table, waiting with a tray of food she wouldn’t eat. Edward didn’t say anything about her absence. I wondered to myself if her class was running lateuntil I saw Conner and Ben, who were in her fourth hour French class. â€Å"Where’s Alice?† I asked Edward anxiously. He looked at the granola bar he was slowly pulverizing between his fingertips while he answered. â€Å"She’s with Jasper.† â€Å"Is he okay?† â€Å"He’s gone away for a while.† â€Å"What? Where?† Edward shrugged. â€Å"Nowhere in particular.† â€Å"And Alice, too,† I said with quiet desperation. Of course, if Jasper needed her, she would go. â€Å"Yes. She’ll be gone for a while. She was trying to convince him to go to Denali.† Denali was where the one other band of unique vampiresgood ones like the Cullenslived. Tanya and her family. I’d heard of them now and again. Edward had run to them last winter when my arrival had made Forks difficult for him. Laurent, the most civilized member of James’s little coven, had gone there rather than siding with James against the Cullens. It made sense for Alice to encourage Jasper to go there. I swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat. The guilt made my head bow and my shoulders slump. I’d run them out of their home, just like Rosalie and Emmett. I was a plague. â€Å"Is your arm bothering you?† he asked solicitously. â€Å"Who cares about my stupid arm?† I muttered in disgust. He didn’t answer, and I put my head down on the table. By the end of the day, the silence was becoming ridiculous. I didn’t want to be the one to break it, but apparently that was my only choice if I ever wanted him to talk to me again. â€Å"You’ll come over later tonight?† I asked as he walked mesilentlyto my truck. He always came over. â€Å"Later?† It pleased me that he seemed surprised. â€Å"I have to work. I had to trade with Mrs. Newton to get yesterday off.† â€Å"Oh,† he murmured. â€Å"So you’ll come over when I’m home, though, right?† I hated that I felt suddenly unsure about this. â€Å"If you want me to.† â€Å"I always want you,† I reminded him, with perhaps a little more intensity than the conversation required. I expected he would laugh, or smile, or react somehow to my words. â€Å"All right, then,† he said indifferently. He kissed my forehead again before he shut the door on me. Then he turned his back and loped gracefully toward his car. I was able to drive out of the parking lot before the panic really hit, but I was hyperventilating by the time I got to Newton’s. He just needed time, I told myself. He would get over this. Maybe he was sad because his family was disappearing. But Alice and Jasper would come back soon, and Rosalie and Emmett, too. If it would help, I would stay away from the big white house on the riverI’d never set foot there again. That didn’t matter. I’d still see Alice at school. She would have to come back for school, right? And she was at my place all the time anyway. She wouldn’t want to hurt Charlie’s feelings by staying away. No doubt I would also run into Carlisle with regularityin the emergency room. After all, what had happened last night was nothing. Nothing had happened. So I fell downthat was the story of my life. Compared to last spring, it seemed especially unimportant. James had left me broken and nearly dead from loss of bloodand yet Edward had handled the interminable weeks in the hospital much better than this. Was it because, this time, it wasn’t an enemy he’d had to protect me from? Because it was his brother? Maybe it would be better if he took me away, rather than his family being scattered. I grew slightly less depressed as I considered all the uninterrupted alone time. If he could just last through the school year, Charlie wouldn’t be able to object. We could go away to college, or pretend that’s what we were doing, like Rosalie and Emmett this year. You read "The Twilight Saga 2: New Moon Chapter 3 THE END" in category "Essay examples" Surely Edward could wait a year. What was a year to an immortal? It didn’t even seem like that much to me. I was able to talk myself into enough composure to handle getting out of the truck and walking to the store. Mike Newton had beaten me here today, and he smiled and waved when I came in. I grabbed my vest, nodding vaguely in his direction. I was still imagining pleasant scenarios that consisted of me running away with Edward to various exotic locales. Mike interrupted my fantasy. â€Å"How was your birthday?† â€Å"Ugh,† I mumbled. â€Å"I’m glad it’s over.† Mike looked at me from the corners of his eyes like I was crazy. Work dragged. I wanted to see Edward again, praying that he would be past the worst of this, whatever it was exactly, by the time I saw him again. It’s nothing, I told myself over and over again. Everything will go back to normal. The relief I felt when I turned onto my street and saw Edward’s silver car parked in front of my house was an overwhelming, heady thing. And it bothered me deeply that it should be that way. I hurried through the front door, calling out before I was completely inside. â€Å"Dad? Edward?† As I spoke, I could hear the distinctive theme music from ESPN’s SportsCenter coming from the living room. â€Å"In here,† Charlie called. I hung my raincoat on its peg and hurried around the corner. Edward was in the armchair, my father on the sofa. Both had their eyes trained on the TV. The focus was normal for my father. Not so much for Edward. â€Å"Hi,† I said weakly. â€Å"Hey, Bella,† my father answered, eyes never moving. â€Å"We just had cold pizza. I think it’s still on the table.† â€Å"Okay.† I waited in the doorway. Finally, Edward looked over at me with a polite smile. â€Å"I’ll be right behind you,† he promised. His eyes strayed back to the TV. I stared for another minute, shocked. Neither one seemed to notice. I could feel something, panic maybe, building up in my chest. I escaped to the kitchen. The pizza held no interest for me. I sat in my chair, pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them. Something was very wrong, maybe more wrong than I’d realized. The sounds of male bonding and banter continued from the TV set. I tried to get control of myself, to reason with myself. What’s the worst that can happen? I flinched. That was definitely the wrong question to ask. I was having a hard time breathing right. Okay, I thought again, what’s the worst I can live through? I didn’t like that question so much, either. But I thought through the possibilities I’d considered today. Staying away from Edward’s family. Of course, he wouldn’t expect Alice to be part of that. But if Jasper was off limits, that would lessen the time I could have with her. I nodded to myselfI could live with that. Or going away. Maybe he wouldn’t want to wait till the end of the school year, maybe it would have to be now. In front of me, on the table, my presents from Charlie and Renee were where I had left them, the camera I hadn’t had the chance to use at the Cullens’ sitting beside the album. I touched the pretty cover of the scrapbook my mother had given me, and sighed, thinking of Renee. Somehow, living without her for as long as I had did not make the idea of a more permanent separation easier. And Charlie would be left all alone here, abandoned. They would both be so hurt But we’d come back, right? We’d visit, of course, wouldn’t we? I couldn’t be certain about the answer to that. I leaned my cheek against my knee, staring at the physical tokens of my parents’ love. I’d known this path I’d chosen was going to be hard. And, after all, I was thinking about the worst-case scenariothe very worst I could live through. I touched the scrapbook again, flipping the front cover over. Little metal corners were already in place to hold the first picture. It wasn’t a half-bad idea, to make some record of my life here. I felt a strange urge to get started. Maybe I didn’t have that long left in Forks. I toyed with the wrist strap on the camera, wondering about the first picture on the roll. Could it possibly turn out anything close to the original? I doubted it. But he didn’t seem worried that it would be blank. I chuckled to myself, thinking of his carefree laughter last night. The chuckle died away. So much had changed, and so abruptly. It made me feel a little bit dizzy, like I was standing on an edge, a precipice somewhere much too high. I didn’t want to think about that anymore. I grabbed the camera and headed up the stairs. My room hadn’t really changed all that much in the seventeen years since my mother had been here. The walls were still light blue, the same yellowed lace curtains hung in front of the window. There was a bed, rather than a crib, but she would recognize the quilt draped untidily over the topit had been a gift ROM Gran. Regardless, I snapped a picture of my room. There wasn’t much else I could do tonightit was too dark outsideand the feeling was growing stronger, it was almost a compulsion now. I would record everything about Forks before I had to leave it. Change was coming. I could feel it. It wasn’t a pleasant prospect, not when life was perfect the way it was. I took my time coming back down the stairs, camera in hand, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I thought of the strange distance I didn’t want to see in Edward’s eyes. He would get over this. Probably he was worried that I would be upset when he asked me to leave. I would let him work through it without meddling. And I would be prepared when he asked. I had the camera ready as I leaned around the corner, being sneaky. I was sure there was no chance that I had caught Edward by surprise, but he didn’t look up. I felt a brief shiver as something icy twisted in my stomach; I ignored that and took the picture. They both looked at me then. Charlie frowned. Edward’s face was empty, expressionless. â€Å"What are you doing, Bella?† Charlie complained. â€Å"Oh, come on.† I pretended to smile as I went to sit on the floor in front of the sofa where Charlie lounged. â€Å"You know Mom will be calling soon to ask if I’m using my presents. I have to get to work before she can get her feelings hurt.† â€Å"Why are you taking pictures of me, though?† he grumbled. â€Å"Because you’re so handsome,† I replied, keeping it light. â€Å"And because, since you bought the camera, you’re obligated to be one of my subjects.† He mumbled something unintelligible. â€Å"Hey, Edward,† I said with admirable indifference. â€Å"Take one of me and my dad together.† I threw the camera toward him, carefully avoiding his eyes, and knelt beside the arm of the sofa where Charlie’s face was. Charlie sighed. â€Å"You need to smile, Bella,† Edward murmured. I did my best, and the camera flashed. â€Å"Let me take one of you kids,† Charlie suggested. I knew he was just trying to shift the camera’s focus fromhimself. Edward stood and lightly tossed him the camera. I went to stand beside Edward, and the arrangement felt formal and strange to me. He put one hand lightly on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm more securely around his waist. I wanted to look at his face, but I was afraid to. â€Å"Smile, Bella,† Charlie reminded me again. I took a deep breath and smiled. The flash blinded me. â€Å"Enough pictures for tonight,† Charlie said then, shoving the camera into a crevice of the sofa cushions and rolling over it. â€Å"You don’t have to use the whole roll now.† Edward dropped his hand from my shoulder and twisted casually out of my arm. He sat back down in the armchair. I hesitated, and then went to sit against the sofa again. I was suddenly so frightened that my hands were shaking. I pressed them into my stomach to hide them, put my chin on my knees and stared at the TV screen in front of me, seeing nothing. When the show ended, I hadn’t moved an inch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward stand. â€Å"I’d better get home,† he said. Charlie didn’t look up from the commercial. â€Å"See ya.† I got awkwardly to my feetI was stiff from sitting so stilland followed Edward out the front door. He went straight to his car. â€Å"Will you stay?† I asked, no hope in my voice. I expected his answer, so it didn’t hurt as much. â€Å"Not tonight.† I didn’t ask for a reason. He got in his car and drove away while I stood there, unmoving. I barely noticed that it was raining. I waited, without knowing what I waited for, until the door opened behind me. â€Å"Bella, what are you doing?† Charlie asked, surprised to see me standing there alone and dripping. â€Å"Nothing.† I turned and trudged back to the house. It was a long night, with little in the way of rest. I got up as soon as there was a faint light outside my window. I dressed for school mechanically, waiting for the clouds to brighten. When I had eaten a bowl of cereal, I decided that it was light enough for pictures. I took one of my truck, and then the front of the house. I turned and snapped a few of the forest by Charlie’s house. Funny how it didn’t seem sinister like it used to. I realized I would miss thisthe green, the timelessness, the mystery of the woods. All of it. I put the camera in my school bag before I left. I tried to concentrate on my new project rather than the fact that Edward apparently hadn’t gotten over things during the night. Along with the fear, I was beginning to feel impatience. How long could this last? It lasted through the morning. He walked silently beside me, never seeming to actually look at me. I tried to concentrate on my classes, but not even English could hold my attention. Mr. Berty had to repeat his question about Lady Capulet twice before I realized he was talking to me. Edward whispered the correct answer under his breath and then went back to ignoring me. At lunch, the silence continued. I felt like I was going to start screaming at any moment, so, to distract myself, I leaned across the table’s invisible line and spoke to Jessica. â€Å"Hey, Jess?† â€Å"What’s up, Bella?† â€Å"Could you do me a favor?† I asked, reaching into my bag. â€Å"My mom wants me to get some pictures of my friends for a scrapbook. So, take some pictures of everybody, okay?† I handed her the camera. â€Å"Sure,† she said, grinning, and turned to snap a candid shot of Mike with his mouth full. A predictable picture war ensued. I watched them hand the camera around the table, giggling and flirting and complaining about being on film. It seemed strangely childish. Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood for normal human behavior today. â€Å"Uh-oh,† Jessica said apologetically as she returned the camera. â€Å"I think we used all your film.† â€Å"That’s okay. I think I already got pictures of everything else I needed.† After school, Edward walked me back to the parking lot in silence. I had to work again, and for once, I was glad. Time with me obviously wasn’t helping things. Maybe time alone would be better. I dropped my film off at the Thriftway on my way to Newton’s, and then picked up the developed pictures after work. At home, I said a brief hi to Charlie, grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen, and hurried up to my room with the envelope of photographs tucked under my arm. I sat in the middle of my bed and opened the envelope with wary curiosity. Ridiculously, I still half expected the first print to be a blank. When I pulled it out, I gasped aloud. Edward looked just as beautiful as he did in real life, staring at me out of the picture with the warm eyes I’d missed for the past few days. It was almost uncanny that anyone could look so so beyond description. No thousand words could equal this picture. I flipped through the rest of the stack quickly once, and then laid three of them out on the bed side by side. The first was the picture of Edward in the kitchen, his warm eyes touched with tolerant amusement. The second was Edward and Charlie, watching ESPN. The difference in Edward’s expression was severe. His eyes were careful here, reserved. Still breathtakingly beautiful, but his face was colder, more like a sculpture, less alive. The last was the picture of Edward and me standing awkwardly side by side. Edward’s face was the same as the last, cold and statue-like. But that wasn’t the most troubling part of this photograph. The contrast between the two of us was painful. He looked like a god. I looked very average, even for a human, almost shamefully plain. I flipped the picture over with a feeling of disgust. Instead of doing my homework, I stayed up to put my pictures into the album. With a ballpoint pen I scrawled captions under all the pictures, the names and the dates. I got to the picture of Edward and me, and, without looking at it too long, I folded it in half and stuck it under the metal tab, Edward-side up. When I was done, I stuffed the second set of prints in a fresh envelope and penned a long thank-you letter to Renee. Edward still hadn’t come over. I didn’t want to admit that he was the reason I’d stayed up so late, but of course he was. I tried to remember the last time he’d stayed away like this, without an excuse, a phone call He never had. Again, I didn’t sleep well. School followed the silent, frustrating, terrifying pattern of the last two days. I felt relief when I saw Edward waiting for me in the parking lot, but it faded quickly. He was no different, unless maybe more remote. It was hard to even remember the reason for all this mess. My birthday already felt like the distant past. If only Alice would come back. Soon. Before this got any more out of hand. But I couldn’t count on that. I decided that, if I couldn’t talk to him today, really talk, then I was going to see Carlisle tomorrow. I had to do something. After school, Edward and I were going to talk it out, I promised myself. I wasn’t accepting any excuses. He walked me to my truck, and I steeled myself to make my demands. â€Å"Do you mind if I come over today?† he asked before we got to the truck, beating me to the punch. â€Å"Of course not.† â€Å"Now?† he asked again, opening my door for me. â€Å"Sure,† I kept my voice even, though I didn’t like the urgency in his tone. â€Å"I was just going to drop a letter for Renee in the mailbox on the way. I’ll meet you there.† He looked at the fat envelope on the passenger seat. Suddenly, he reached over me and snagged it. â€Å"I’ll do it,† he said quietly. â€Å"And I’ll still beat you there.† He smiled my favorite crooked smile, but it was wrong. It didn’t reach his eyes. â€Å"Okay,† I agreed, unable to smile back. He shut the door, and headed toward his car. He did beat me home. He was parked in Charlie’s spot when I pulled up in front of the house. That was a bad sign. He didn’t plan to stay, then. I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to locate some courage. He got out of his car when I stepped out of the truck, and came to meet me. He reached to take my book bag from me. That was normal. But he shoved it back onto the seat. That was not normal. â€Å"Come for a walk with me,† he suggested in an unemotional voice, taking my hand. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t think of a way to protest, but I instantly knew that I wanted to. I didn’t like this. This is bad, this is very bad, the voice in my head repeated again and again. But he didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled me along toward the east side of the yard, where the forest encroached. I followed unwillingly, trying to think through the panic. It was what I wanted, I reminded myself. The chance to talk it all through. So why was the panic choking me? We’d gone only a few steps into the trees when he stopped. We were barely on the trailI could still see the house. Some walk. Edward leaned against a tree and stared at me, his expression unreadable. â€Å"Okay, let’s talk,† I said. It sounded braver than it felt. He took a deep breath. â€Å"Bella, we’re leaving.† I took a deep breath, too. This was an acceptable option. I thought I was prepared. But I still had to ask. â€Å"Why now? Another year† â€Å"Bella, it’s time. How much longer could we stay in Forks, after all? Carlisle can barely pass for thirty, and he’s claiming thirty-three now. We’d have to start over soon regardless.† His answer confused me. I thought the point of leaving was to let his family live in peace. Why did we have to leave if they were going? I stared at him, trying to understand what he meant. He stared back coldly. With a roll of nausea, I realized I’d misunderstood. â€Å"When you say we,† I whispered. â€Å"I mean my family and myself.† Each word separate and distinct. I shook my head back and forth mechanically, trying to clear it. He waited without any sign of impatience. It took a few minutes before I could speak. â€Å"Okay,† I said. â€Å"I’ll come with you.† â€Å"You can’t, Bella. Where we’re going It’s not the right place for you.† â€Å"Where you are is the right place for me.† â€Å"I’m no good for you, Bella.† â€Å"Don’t be ridiculous.† I wanted to sound angry, but it just sounded like I was begging. â€Å"You’re the very best part of my life.† â€Å"My world is not for you,† he said grimly. â€Å"What happened with Jasperthat was nothing, Edward! Nothing!† â€Å"You’re right,† he agreed. â€Å"It was exactly what was to be expected.† â€Å"You promised! In Phoenix, you promised that you would stay† â€Å"As long as that was best for you,† he interrupted to correct me. â€Å"No! This is about my soul, isn’t it?† I shouted, furious, the words exploding out of mesomehow it still sounded like a plea. â€Å"Carlisle told me about that, and I don’t care, Edward. I don’t care! You can have my soul. I don’t want it without youit’s yours already!† He took a deep breath and stared, unseeingly, at the ground for a long moment. His mouth twisted the tiniest bit. When he finally looked up, his eyes were different, harderlike the liquid gold had frozen solid. â€Å"Bella, I don’t want you to come with me.† He spoke the words slowly and precisely, his cold eyes on my face, watching as I absorbed what he was really saying. There was a pause as I repeated the words in my head a few times, sifting through them for their real intent. â€Å"You don’t want me?† I tried out the words, confused by the way they sounded, placed in that order. â€Å"No.† I stared, uncomprehending, into his eyes. He stared back without apology. His eyes were like topazhard and clear and very deep. I felt like I could see into them for miles and miles, yet nowhere in rheir bottomless depths could I see a contradiction to the word he’d spoken. â€Å"Well, that changes things.† I was surprised by how calm and reasonable my voice sounded. It must be because I was so numb. I couldn’t realize what he was telling me. It still didn’t make any sense. He looked away into the trees as he spoke again. â€Å"Of course, I’ll always love you in a way. But what happened the other night made me realize that it’s time for a change. Because I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not, Bella. I am not human.† He looked back, and the icy planes of his perfect face were not human. â€Å"I’ve let this go on much too long, and I’m sorry for that.† â€Å"Don’t.† My voice was just a whisper now; awareness was beginning to seep through me, trickling like acid through my veins. â€Å"Don’t do this.† He just stared at me, and I could see from his eyes that my words were far too late. He already had. â€Å"You’re not good for me, Bella.† He turned his earlier words around, and so I had no argument. How well I knew that I wasn’t good enough for him. I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it again. He waited patiently, his face wiped clean of all emotion. I tried again. â€Å"If that’s what you want.† He nodded once. My whole body went numb. I couldn’t feel anything below the neck. â€Å"I would like to ask one favor, though, if that’s not too much,† he said. I wonder what he saw on my face, because something flickered across his own face in response. But, before I could identify it, he’d composed his features into the same serene mask. â€Å"Anything,† I vowed, my voice faintly stronger. As I watched, his frozen eyes melted. The gold became liquid again, molten, burning down into mine with an intensity that was overwhelming. â€Å"Don’t do anything reckless or stupid,† he ordered, no longer detached. â€Å"Do you understand what I’m saying?† I nodded helplessly. His eyes cooled, the distance returned. â€Å"I’m thinking of Charlie, of course. He needs you. Take care of yourselffor him.† I nodded again. â€Å"I will,† I whispered. He seemed to relax just a little. â€Å"And I’ll make you a promise in return,† he said. â€Å"I promise that this will be the last time you’ll see me. I won’t come back. I won’t put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I’d never existed.† My knees must have started to shake, because the trees were suddenly wobbling. I could hear the blood pounding faster than normal behind my ears. His voice sounded farther away. He smiled gently. â€Å"Don’t worry. You’re humanyour memory is no more than a sieve. Time heals all wounds for your kind.† â€Å"And your memories?† I asked. It sounded like there was something stuck in my throat, like I was choking. â€Å"Well†he hesitated for a short second†I won’t forget. But my kind we’re very easily distracted.† He smiled; the smile was tranquil and it did not touch his eyes. He took a step away from me. â€Å"That’s everything, I suppose. We won’t bother you again.† The plural caught my attention. That surprised me; I would have thought I was beyond noticing anything. â€Å"Alice isn’t coming back,† I realized. I don’t know how he heard methe words made no soundbut he seemed to understand. He shook his head slowly, always watching my face. â€Å"No. They’re all gone. I staved behind to tell you goodbye.† â€Å"Alice is gone?† My voice was blank with disbelief. â€Å"She wanted to say goodbye, but I convinced her that a clean break would be better for you.† I was dizzy; it was hard to concentrate. His words swirled around in my head, and I heard the doctor at the hospital in Phoenix, last spring, as he showed me the X-rays. You can see it’s a clean break, his finger traced along the picture of my severed bone. That’s good. It will heal more easily, more quickly . I tried to breathe normally. I needed to concentrate, to find a way out of this nightmare. â€Å"Goodbye, Bella,† he said in the same quiet, peaceful voice. â€Å"Wait!† I choked out the word, reaching for him, willing my deadened legs to carry me forward. I thought he was reaching for me, too. But his cold hands locked around my wrists and pinned them to my sides. He leaned down, and pressed his lips very lightly to my forehead for the briefest instant. My eyes closed. â€Å"Take care of yourself,† he breathed, cool against my skin. There was a light, unnatural breeze. My eyes flashed open. The leaves on a small vine maple shuddered with the gentle wind of his passage. He was gone. With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I followed him into the forest. The evidence of his path had disappeared instantly. There were no footprints, the leaves were still again, but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him, it was over. Love, life, meaning over. I walked and walked. Time made no sense as I pushed slowly through the thick undergrowth. It was hours passing, but also only seconds. Maybe it felt like time had frozen because the forest looked the same no matter how far I went. I started to worry that I was traveling in a circle, a very small circle at that, but I kept going. I stumbled often, and, as it grew darker and darker, I fell often, too. Finally, I tripped over somethingit was black now, I had no idea what caught my footand I stayed down. I rolled onto my side, so that I could breathe, and curled up on the wet bracken. As I lay there, I had a feeling that more time was passing than I realized. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since nightfall. Was it always so dark here at night? Surely, as a rule, some little bit of moonlight would filter down through the clouds, through the chinks in the canopy of trees, and find the ground. Not tonight. Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonighta lunar eclipse, a new moon. A new moon. I shivered, though I wasn’t cold. It was black for a long time before I heard them calling. Someone was shouting my name. It was muted, muffled by the wet growth that surrounded me, but it was definitely my name. I didn’t recognize the voice. I thought about answering, but I was dazed, and it took a long time to come to the conclusion that I should answer. By then, the calling had stopped. Sometime later, the rain woke me up. I don’t think I’d really fallen asleep; I was just lost in an unthinking stupor, holding with all my strength to the numbness that kept me from realizing what I didn’t want to know. The rain bothered me a little. It was cold. I unwrapped my arms from around my legs to cover my face. It was then that I heard the calling again. It was farther away this time, and sometimes it sounded like several voices were calling at once. I tried to breathe deeply. I remembered that I should answer, but I didn’t think they would be able to hear me. Would I be able to shout loud enough? Suddenly, there was another sound, startlingly close. A kind of snuffling, an animal sound. It sounded big. I wondered if I should feel afraid. I didn’tjust numb. It didn’t matter. The snuffling went away. The rain continued, and I could feel the water pooling up against my cheek. I was trying to gather the strength to turn my head when I saw the light. At first it was just a dim glow reflecting off the bushes in the distance. It grew brighter and brighter, illuminating a large space unlike the focused beam of a flashlight. The light broke through the closest brush, and I could see that it was a propane lantern, but that was all I could seethe brightness blinded me for a moment. â€Å"Bella.† The voice was deep and unfamiliar, but full of recognition. He wasn’t calling my name to search, he was acknowledging that I was found. I stared upimpossibly high it seemedat the dark face that I could now see above me. I was vaguely aware that the stranger probably only looked so tall because my head was still on the ground. â€Å"Have you been hurt?† I knew the words meant something, but I could only stare, bewildered. How could the meaning matter at this point? â€Å"Bella, my name is Sam Uley.† There was nothing familiar about his name. â€Å"Charlie sent me to look for you.† Charlie? That struck a chord, and I tried to pay more attention to what he was saying. Charlie mattered, if nothing else did. The tall man held out a hand. I gazed at it, not sure what I was supposed to do. His black eyes appraised me for a second, and then he shrugged. In a quick and supple notion, he pulled me up from the ground and into his arms. I hung there, limp, as he loped swiftly through the wet forest. Some part of me knew this should upset mebeing carried away by a stranger. But there was nothing left in me to upset. It didn’t seem like too much time passed before there were lights and the deep babble of many male voices. Sam Uley slowed as he approached the commotion. â€Å"I’ve got her!† he called in a booming voice. The babble ceased, and then picked up again with more intensity. A confusing swirl of faces moved over me. Sam’s voice was the only one that made sense in the chaos, perhaps because my ear was against his chest. â€Å"No, I don’t think she’s hurt,† he told someone. â€Å"She just keeps saying ‘He’s gone.’ â€Å" Was I saying that out loud? I bit down on my lip. â€Å"Bella, honey, are you all right?† That was one voice I would know anywhereeven distorted, as it was now, with worry. â€Å"Charlie?† My voice sounded strange and small. â€Å"I’m right here, baby.† There was a shifting under me, followed by the leathery smell of my dad’s sheriff jacket. Charlie staggered under my weight. â€Å"Maybe I should hold on to her,† Sam Uley suggested. â€Å"I’ve got her,† Charlie said, a little breathless. He walked slowly, struggling. I wished I could tell him to put me down and let me walk, but I couldn’t find my voice. There were lights everywhere, held by the crowd walking with him. It felt like a parade. Or a funeral procession. I closed my eyes. â€Å"We’re almost home now, honey,† Charlie mumbled now and then. I opened my eyes again when I heard the door unlock. We were on the porch of our house, and the tall dark man named Sam was holding the door for Charlie, one arm extended toward us, as if he was preparing to catch me when Charlie’s arms failed. But Charlie managed to get me through the door and to the couch in the living room. â€Å"Dad, I’m all wet,† I objected feebly. â€Å"That doesn’t matter.† His voice was gruff. And then he was talking to someone else. â€Å"Blankets are in the cupboard at the top of the stairs.† â€Å"Bella?† a new voice asked. I looked at the gray-haired man leaning over me, and recognition came after a few slow seconds. â€Å"Dr. Gerandy?† I mumbled. â€Å"That’s right, dear,† he said. â€Å"Are you hurt, Bella?† It took me a minute to think that through. I was confused by the memory of Sam Uley’s similar question in the woods. Only Sam had asked something else: Have you been hurt? he’d said. The difference seemed significant somehow. Dr. Gerandy was waiting. One grizzled eyebrow rose, and the wrinkles on his forehead deepened. â€Å"I’m not hurt,† I lied. The words, were true enough for what he’d asked. His warm hand touched my forehead, and his fingers pressed against the inside of my wrist. I watched his lips as he counted to himself, his eyes on his watch. â€Å"What happened to you?† he asked casually. I froze under his hand, tasting panic in the back of my throat. â€Å"Did you get lost in the woods?† he prodded. I was aware of several other people listening. Three tall men with dark facesfrom La Push, the Quileute Indian reservation down on the coastline, I guessedSam Uley among them, were standing very close together and staring at me. Mr. Newton was there with Mike and Mr. Weber, Angela’s father; they all were watching me more surreptitiously than the strangers. Other deep voices rumbled from the kitchen and outside the front door. Half the town must have been looking for me. Charlie was the closest. He leaned in to hear my answer. â€Å"Yes,† I whispered. â€Å"I got lost.† The doctor nodded, thoughtful, his fingers probing gently against the glands under my jaw. Charlie’s face hardened. â€Å"Do you feel tired?† Dr. Gerandy asked. I nodded and closed my eyes obediently. â€Å"I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her,† I heard the doctor mutter to Charlie after a moment. â€Å"Just exhaustion. Let her sleep it off, and I’ll come check on her tomorrow,† he paused. He must have looked at his watch, because he added, â€Å"Well, later today actually.† There was a creaking sound as they both pushed off from the couch to get to their feet. â€Å"Is it true?† Charlie whispered. Their voices were farther away now. I strained to hear. â€Å"Did they leave?† â€Å"Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything,† Dr. Gerandy answered. â€Å"The offer was very sudden; they had to choose immediately. Carlisle didn’t want to make a big production out of leaving.† â€Å"A little warning might have been nice,† Charlie grumbled. Dr. Gerandy sounded uncomfortable when he replied. â€Å"Yes, well, in this situation, some warning might have been called for.† I didn’t want to listen anymore. I felt around for the edge of the quilt someone had laid on top of me, and pulled it over my ear. I drifted in and out of alertness. I heard Charlie whisper thanks to the volunteers as, one by one, they left. I felt his fingers on my forehead, and then the weight of another blanket. The phone rang a few times, and he hurried to catch it before it could wake me. He muttered reassurances in a low voice to the callers. â€Å"Yeah, we found her. She’s okay. She got lost. She’s fine now,† he said again and again. I heard the springs in the armchair groan when he settled himself in for the night. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. Charlie moaned as he struggled to his feet, and then he rushed, stumbling, to the kitchen I pulled my head deeper under the blankets, not wanting to listen to the same conversation again. â€Å"Yeah,† Charlie said, and yawned. His voice changed, it was much more alert when he spoke again. â€Å"Where?'† There was a pause. â€Å"You’re sure it’s outside the reservation?† Another short pause. â€Å"But what could be burning out there?† He sounded both worried and mystified. â€Å"Look, I’ll call down there and check it out.† I listened with more interest as he punched in a number. â€Å"Hey, Billy, it’s Charliesorry I’m calling so early no, she’s fine. She’s sleeping Thanks, but that’s not why I called. I just got a call from Mrs. Stanley, and she says that from her second-story window she can see fires out on the sea cliffs, but I didn’t really Oh!† Suddenly there was an edge in his voiceirritation or anger. â€Å"And why are they doing that? Uh huh. Really?† He said it sarcastically. â€Å"Well, don’t apologize to me. Yeah, yeah. Just make sure the flames don’t spread I know, I know, I’m surprised they got them lit at all in this weather.† Charlie hesitated, and then added grudgingly. â€Å"Thanks for sending Sam and the other boys up. You were rightthey do know the forest better than we do. It was Sam who found her, so I owe you one Yeah, I’ll talk to you later,† he agreed, still sour, before hanging up. Charlie muttered something incoherent as he shuffled back to the living room. â€Å"What’s wrong?† I asked. He hurried to my side. â€Å"I’m sorry I woke you, honey.† â€Å"Is something burning?† â€Å"It’s nothing,† he assured me. â€Å"Just some bonfires out on the cliffs.† â€Å"Bonfires?† I asked. My voice didn’t sound curious. It sounded dead. Charlie frowned. â€Å"Some of the kids from the reservation being rowdy,† he explained. â€Å"Why?† I wondered dully. I could tell he didn’t want to answer. He looked at the floor under his knees. â€Å"They’re celebrating the news.† His tone was bitter. There was only one piece of news I could think of, try as I might not to. And then the pieces snapped together. â€Å"Because the Cullens left,† I whispered. â€Å"They don’t like the Cullens in La PushI’d forgotten about that.† The Quileutes had their superstitions about the â€Å"cold ones,† the blood-drinkers that were enemies to their tribe, just like they had their legends of the great flood and wolf-men ancestors. Just stories, folklore, to most of them. Then there were the few that believed. Charlie’s good friend Billy Black believed, though even Jacob, his own son, thought he was full of stupid superstitions. Billy had warned me to stay away from the Cullens The name stirred something inside me, something that began to claw its way toward the surface, something I knew I didn’t want to face. â€Å"It’s ridiculous,† Charlie spluttered. We sat in silence for a moment. The sky was no longer black outside the window. Somewhere behind the rain, the sun was beginning to rise. â€Å"Bella?† Charlie asked. I looked at him uneasily. â€Å"He left you alone in the woods?† Charlie guessed. I deflected his question. â€Å"How did you know where to find me?† My mind shied away from the inevitable awareness that was coming, coming quickly now. â€Å"Your note,† Charlie answered. surprised. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a much-abused piece of paper. It was dirty and damp, with multiple creases from being opened and refolded many times. He unfolded it again, and held it up as evidence. The messy handwriting was remarkably close to my own. Going for a walk with Edward, up the path, it said. Back soon, B. â€Å"When you didn’t come back, I called the Cullens, and no one answered,† Charlie said in a low voice. â€Å"Then I called the hospital, and Dr. Gerandy told me that Carlisle was gone.† â€Å"Where did they go?† I mumbled. He stared at me. â€Å"Didn’t Edward tell you?† I shook my head, recoiling. The sound of his name unleashed the thing that was clawing inside of mea pain that knocked me breathless, astonished me with its force. Charlie eyed me doubtfully as he answered. â€Å"Carlisle took a job with a big hospital in Los Angeles. I guess they threw a lot of money at him.† Sunny L.A. The last place they would really go. I remembered my nightmare with the mirror the bright sunlight shimmering off of his skin Agony ripped through me with the memory of his face. â€Å"I want to know if Edward left you alone out there in the middle of the woods,† Charlie insisted. His name sent another wave of torture through me. I shook my head, frantic, desperate to escape the pain. â€Å"It was my fault. He left me right here on the trail, in sight of the house but I tried to follow him.† Charlie started to say something; childishly, I covered my ears. â€Å"I can’t talk about this anymore, Dad. I want to go to my room.† Before he could answer, I scrambled up from the couch and lurched my way up the stairs. Someone had been in the house to leave a note for Charlie, a note that would lead him to find me. From the minute that I’d realized this, a horrible suspicion began to grow in my head. I rushed to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me before I ran to the CD player by my bed. Everything looked exactly the same as I’d left it. I pressed down on the top of the CD player. The latch unhooked, and the lid slowly swung open. It was empty. The album Renee had given me sat on the floor beside the bed, just where I’d put it last. I lifted the cover with a shaking hand. I didn’t have to flip any farther than the first page. The little metal corners no longer held a picture in place. The page was blank except for my own handwriting scrawled across the bottom: Edward Cullen, Charlie’s kitchen, Sept. 13th. I stopped there. I was sure that he would have been very thorough. It will be as if I’d never existed, he’d promised me. I felt the smooth wooden floor beneath my knees, and then the palms of my hands, and then it was pressed against the skin of my cheek. I hoped that I was fainting, but, to my disappointment, I didn’t lose consciousness. The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. 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Social Issues In the Philippines Essay Example For Students

Social Issues In the Philippines Essay Ever wonder what happens to a country when a group of politicians get together and decide to purchase land, to try and create a mirror image of their society in that new colony, and instill their culture? Surely, there have been numerous others. In this paper, the attempt is to provide nominal (as an extensive and exhaustive one goes beyond the parameters of this works purpose) insight into the inner workings of American reign in the Philippines from the late nineteenth century to the present, with an emphasis on those policies ramifications on the lives of the affected. The story with the Americans really begins with the purchase of the Philippines for twenty million dollars accounted for in the Treaty of Paris of 1898 that secured Cuban independence, the ceding of the Philippines, Puerto Rico and Guam to the U.S. from Spain (McDuffie, Piggrem, and Woodsworth, AP Exam: US History 123). During that time, according to Lena Mendoza Strobel, professor at Sonoma State University, the Americans belief that the masses (in the Philippines) would only be content under a firm patriarchy helped shape a western policy that asserted political and socioeconomic dominance (Coming Full Circle 41). What that meant and means for the natives of the country are Americanized processes of schooling, American military outposts, American-owned businesses, and an instilling of American norms and values that were and are detrimental to the preservation and development of the existing-prior-to-unwanted-influences, indigenous Filipino one. Because of such ludicrously imposed laws as the Sedition Law of 1901 that provided that Every person who shall utter words or speeches, write, publish or circulate, scurrilous libels against the government of the United States or the insular government of the Philippine Island shall be punished by a fine of not more than US $2000 or by imprisonment not exceeding two years or both as noted by Leonard Davis in his book, The Philippines: People, Poverty Politics, many Filipinos were forced into cooperation and obedience to this, their new colonizers way, of allowing them to live (38). The reality is that the development of political consciousness and individual freedom, two of the cornerstones America presented to the world as its contribution to the Filipino people were, for the most part, superficial because what they really did was, unlike the Spanish, was leave a legacy of economic exploitation through the entering of American goods free of duty, making the country the U.S. principal market in the Orient and having all roads, bridges and other construction work made with American equipment, materials and vehicles (Davis, The Philippines: People, Poverty Politics 38). Through such flippant control, domination, insensitivity, and magnanimous bigotry, the external image that appeared before the world was that the U.S. was performing humanitarian acts of compassion and aide to an uncivilized people. However, internally, the goals of the country really were not to create independence and freedom, but rather to propel their own political and economic interest, or, at least, those people in power in the U.S. In fact, as Stanley Karnow says it in his Pulitzer prize-winning book, In Our Image: Americas Empire in the Philippines, while speaking of the then President McKinleys Secretary of War, Elihu Root, that Root epitomized the sentiments of his government-official contemporaries when he indirectly asserted that (through Karnows words), Filipinos could not possibly comprehend the concept of government by consent of the governed (169). And, that as such, that they needed to be civilized according to their (U.S.) standards; in other words, to transplant its values and institutions so that it would be a mirror-image of his peoples society, with the corollary being U.S. control of policies and government (Karnow, In Our Image 170). .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 , .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .postImageUrl , .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 , .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71:hover , .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71:visited , .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71:active { border:0!important; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71:active , .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71 .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u6d29d5d26e3b7c8881c3c9a9aa866b71:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: The Sanity Of Hamlet EssayThe ramifications of American rule before and after their reinstatement of Filipino statehood and reign in 1946 have yielded great consequences for that countrys people. On the one hand, they did manage to greatly multiply the level of democracy and self-government nowhere seen in comparison during the Spanish reign and, according to Amparo S. Lardizabal and Felicitas Tensuan-Leogardo, editors of Readings On Philippine Culture and Social Life, introduced popular education through the public school system (88). On the other hand, they have also introduced such .

Serial Killer for Abnormal Psychological - myassignmenthelp.com

Question: Discuss about theSerial Killer for Abnormal PsychologicalGratification. Answer: Introduction Serial killer is a term which refers to such individual who murders three or a higher number of people and this could be due to a number of reasons including abnormal psychological gratification, and in which the murders take place over a period of months, where a cooling off period in terms of a major break is included between the murders. There are different criteria which are applied by the authorities when it comes to designating of the serial killers; though, the major set the limit of three murders, some lessen it to two and some extend it to four (Waller, 2011). In terms of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, i.e., FBI, serial killing is a series of two or a higher number of murders which are undertaken as different events, which usually is undertaken by an offender who acts alone, but the same is not necessary each time. As per FBI, the motives of serial killers vary from anger, financial gain, attention seeking, and thrill seeking to psychological gratification (Newton, 200 8). Harold Shipman is one of such serial killers who was a doctor turned serial killer and who used the characteristic of manipulator to murder. The following parts cover a case study of Harold Shipman and would attempt to explain the manner in which his characteristic of manipulation played a role in the murders. Case Study Harold Frederick Shipman was a British general practitioner, who lived from January 14th, 1946 to 13th January 2004 and is considered as amongst the most prolific serial kills in the recorded history. In the backdrop of mayhem created by Shipman, the legal structure of the nation relating to the health care and medicines was reviewed and was altered. He continues to be the only British physicians who have been found guilty of murdering their patients even when a number of doctors have been acquitted for crimes of similar nature, or convicted with lesser charges. Shipman died on his own hands by hanging himself one day before his 58th birthday, at his prison cell in Wakefield Prison (Whittle and Ritchie, 2009). On January 31st, 2000, he was found guilty of fifteen murders by the jury, for killing the patients that were in his care. As a result of this, he was given a life term imprisonment, where a recommendation was given along with this that he should never be released (Marshall, 2016). The Shipman Inquiry was carried on for a period of two years, into the deaths which were certified by Shipman and this was chaired by Dame Janet Smith who investigated into the crimes committed by Shipman. 218 victims were identified in the inquiry but the estimated number of his victims was over 250, where 80% were elderly women. A 41 year old male was his youngest confirmed victim even when the suspicion was that he had killed patients as young as the age of four (Plehov, 2014). Crimes The crimes of Shipman came to light when a local undertaker noticed that the patients of Shipman seemed to be dying at a rate which was unusually high and also showed similar poses in death where the body was always fully clothed and they were usually reclining or sitting up on a settee. He started becoming suspicious and approached Shipman regarding this issue in a direct manner (Green, 2015). However, he was reassured by Shipman that the local undertaker had nothing to worry. Dr. Susan Booth, another medical colleague, after some time also found the similarity as a disturbing thing and this led to the local coroners office being alerted about this and he raised the alarm bells with the police. Initially a covert investigation was undertaken in which Shipman was not found guilty and his records appeared to be in proper order. However, this inquiry never included checking the criminal records or a contact with the General Medical Council, which would have been proof enough of the ear lier record of Shipman. After a more thorough investigation was undertaken, it was revealed that the medical records of the patients had been changed by Shipman in order to substantiate their causes of death (Biography, 2017). Shipman gained the advantage of his status and hid behind the shield of being a caring family doctor, which made it nearly impossible to ascertain when exactly he had started killing his patients or that how many individuals had died at his hands. The authorities further faced difficulty as he denied all the charges. The determination of the daughter of one of his victims, i.e., of Angela Woodruff, led to his killing spree being brought to an end, as she rejected the explanations given regarding the cause of death of her mother. Angelas mother was Kathleen Grundy who was a wealthy widow of 81 years age and he was found dead on June 24th, 1998, at her home, after Shipman had visited her. Angela was given the advice that there was no need of an autopsy and so Kathleen was buried as per the wishes of her daughter (Batty, 2005). Angela was a lawyer by profession who had always looked after the affairs of her mother and this resulted in her being surprised when she saw another will to be present, where her mother had left the majority of her estate to Shipman. This led to her being sure that the document had been forged and that Shipman had murdered her mother for getting her estate. She then told all this to the local police, which led to the Detective Superintendent, Bernard Postles drawing the very same conclusion after he examined all the evidence. This led to Kathleens body being exhumed and the undertaken post-mortem showed that she died as a result of the overdose of morphine, which had been given to her within 3 hours of her death and this was within the timeframe of the visit of Shipman to her (Clarkson, 2005). When the home of Shipman was raided where an odd collection of jewellery, medical records and an old typewriter was yielded which proved to be the reason due to which it was shown that the document produced had been forged regarding the will of Kathleen. This made it clear to the police that Shipman had forged the document and this led to his medical records being seized, which led to the case extending beyond a single death and the property shifted to the deaths which could prove to be the most productive for the investigation, particularly for the victims who had been cremated and who had died after Shipman visited them at their home. In majority cases, Shipman had requested the families that there was no need of further investigation into the death of their loved ones and this was done even in such cases where the relatives had died owing to unknown reasons to the families. The computerized medical notes of Shipman further corroborated this (Casey, 2011). Characteristics The key characteristic attributed to Harold Shipman was that he was an expert manipulator. Serials killers have often used the apparent vulnerability and the need of pleasing in an effective manner, time and again for hiding their sinister personality. In the world, some of the leading and known serial kills have this terrifying skill of manipulating the ones who are around them, where they are able to press the correct button for presenting themselves in the false light. Often, the serial killers are able to manipulate the situations around them for passing the blame of their acts by using the medical psychological research or the hot button issues of the day for making an attempt to explain their acts. Shipman was able to use his position as being a medical expert and used it to manipulate his patients in their treatments and this ultimately killed them, while Shipman continued to portray himself as a caring member of the society (Woollaston, 2015). The manipulators have the ability of pleasing others in their dominant characteristic, and they try to appear to be vulnerable. They wear a veil of weakness and humility in order to lure their victims in the false sense of security. The serial killers hide their deep disturbed personality in a false pretence and portray themselves as the nice guy. Such serial killers have the eerie skill of reading the people and of manipulating the emotions of other, for getting their way. Harold Shipman is a leading example of luring the individuals, which included his patients and the members of the society, into believing that he was a caring and an altruistic member of the society. This ultimately led to his victims being lured in his sinister plot of inflicting death on them, in the so called terms of medical treatment (Chase, 2017). Manipulation is a key trait in majority of psychopaths, in addition to impulsiveness and aggression and these are the features which further lead them towards the path of criminal activities. Psychopaths are not only manipulative and also calculating and they do not suffer from delusions or hallucinations, as is the case with certain set of serial killers. Psychopaths differ from psychotics as they do not hear voices in their heads or make up false stories regarding the world (Herve and Yuille, 2017). Apart from the manipulation undertaken by Shipman, some people believed that he was avenging the death of his mother, who passed away when he was merely 17 years of age. Some believed that he killed the old ladies by injecting them with morphine as a manner of easing the burdens. A more disturbing theory is that he considered himself as a God and could not resist playing the role of one. This is the reason he skilled the patients to show that he could both save a life and take it as wel l (Batty, 2005). Another key characteristic about him was that he was a poisoner, who used lethal injections of diamorphone on his victims. In this regard he used his tactics and his medical profession as a manner of gaining access to the clients. His manipulative techniques were all the more important after he had committed the murder of a victim and he told their loved ones to ignore going forward with any more examination into the death of the victim, thereby avoiding any chances of being made liable for their deaths through discovery. He was also filled with greed which led to him being caught. The forgery of the will of Kathleen was the prime example of this, where he forged a will of Kathleen and awarded himself the majority of her will. There was an absence of violence, sexual overtone, and clear motives save for one instance (Lavina, 2013). Where some believed he was clinging on to his mothers death, others believed that he was recreating the death scene of his murder. Some also state that th e fact that he left so many clues was proof enough that he desperately wanted to be caught and to be stopped and that was fighting a compulsion which he could not control. However, the exact reason for Shipman being indulged in such murders is still unknown (Whittle and Ritchie, 2009). Conclusion Thus, from the discussion carried on above, it becomes clear that Harold Shipman was a serial killer who was a medical practitioner and who misused his profession to manipulate his patients and killed them. Shipman manipulated the families of his victims to avoid any sort of further follow up in the death of the victims which led to him continuing his evil plans. Even though his colleagues did raise the alarm bells, his persona and his image as being a proper health practitioner helped him in avoiding getting caught. However, his acts were brought to the light when his greed was caught by the daughter of one of his victims, who caught the forged documents created by Shipman regarding the will of his victim. He had a number of characteristics as being an expert manipulator, where different reasons were given for him being indulged in such gruesome acts. References Batty, D. (2005) QA: Harold Shipman. [Online] The Guardian. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2005/aug/25/health.shipman [Accessed on: 26/11/17] Biography. (2017) Harold Shipman. [Online] Biography. Available from: https://www.biography.com/people/harold-shipman-17169712 [Accessed on: 26/11/17] Casey, E. (2011) Digital Evidence and Computer Crime: Forensic Science, Computers and the Internet. London: Academic Press. Chase, J. (2017) Evil Among Us: 5 Traits of Serial Killers. [Online] Author Jennifer Chase. Available from: https://authorjenniferchase.com/2017/01/13/evil-among-us-5-traits-of-serial-killers/ [Accessed on: 26/11/17] Clarkson, W. (2005) Evil Beyond Belief - How and Why Dr Harold Shipman Murdered 357 People. London: John Blake Publishing. Green, R. (2015) Harold Shipman: The True Story of Britain's Most Notorious Serial Killer. Luxembourg: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. Herve, H., and Yuille, J.C. (2017) The Psychopath: Theory, Research, and Practice. Oxon: Routledge. Lavina. (2013) Top 15 Worst Serial Killers World has Ever Seen. [Online] Listovative. Available from: https://listovative.com/top-15-worst-serial-killers-world-ever-seen/ [Accessed on: 26/11/17] Marshall, N. (2016) Doctor Death: The True Story of Harold Shipman. Luxembourg: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. Newton, M. (2008) Serial Killers. New York: Infobase Publishing. Peters, C. (2006) Harold Shipman: Mind Set on Murder: why Shipman Killed and Killed Again: the True Story. London: Andr Deutsch. Plehov, M. (2014) Harold Shipman: The Doctor of Death. Northamptonshire, United Kingdom: Igloo Books. Waller, S. (2011) Serial Killers - Philosophy for Everyone: Being and Killing. West Sussex: John Wiley Sons. Whittle, B., and Ritchie, J. (2009) Harold Shipman - Prescription For Murder: The true story of Dr Harold Frederick Shipman. London: Hachette UK. Woollaston, V. (2015) How to spot a serial killer: Criminologists reveal five key traits the most notorious murderers have in common. [Online] Daily Mail. Available from: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3169359/How-spot-serial-killer-Criminologists-reveal-five-key-traits-common-notorious-murderers.html [Accessed on: 26/11/17]