Bonjours à tous.
Je suis un étudiant québécois en 3e session de Cégep.
Si vous savez pas c´est quoi, c´est pas important.
L´important est que j´ai 18 ans et que l´anglais est ma langue seconde.
J´ai un travail à remettre en anglais qui compte pour 30 %, et je ne suis pas certain de la qualité de mon travail.
Le sujet était assez libre.
Dites-moi ce que vous en pensez, question que je l´améliore.
Merci à tous d´avance 
***
Off
I accidentally stumbled on the radio’s power cable. Silence. At least the have shut up for once. I should have unplugged this damn radio hours ago. Nevertheless, after only a couple of seconds, I started to feel this quiet room to be to quiet. If they were still talking, they would have paid less attention to my presence. They were watching. “Who’s this stupid guy who closed our radio?” They were all watching me trying to get out of this room. I was watching them watching the stupid guy trying to live his life, trying to understand why the world seems so unfair.
I finally saw the door after what seemed to last half an hour.
You could almost breathe outside this death trap full of toxic smoke. It wasn’t so cold for an autumn dark night. However, I was shaking. I could say it was at this moment that I understood the repercussions this phone call would have in the near future. I couldn’t say I’ll miss him. If he was too dump to suicide himself, then I had no reason to regret his departure.
She arrived ten minutes later down the country road. She tried to stop the car in front of the house, but she passed by, unable to stop the car in time. I had to walk about 80 meters in order to get in her Honda Civic. The same Civic you see on every street. Once I opened the car, I realized she was drunk again. She was sober for about a year before that night. The night that would change everything.
She said I wasn’t the cause of all this. I said nothing. She said he loved me and only wanted to do what he thought was best for all of us. I said nothing.
I already knew all those facts. He was stupid, and that’s the reason why he killed himself. I did nothing in order to stop him. I knew it was going to happen, and I didn’t regret doing nothing. One day, she’ll understand it’s the best thing for all of us. My mother will find someone who won’t beat her. I have no doubt about that. When she isn’t drunk, she can be cute for a 43 years old woman.
That night, all I wanted to do was to forget who I am, to forget who he is. Who he was. I only wanted to be like all those jerks at the party. They have a perfect girlfriend, a perfect job, a perfect mother, a perfect father. What a nice life when compared to mine.
I felt asleep. I remember doing this dream, a dream I did several time before that night. I was a plane pilot doing a show in front of a massive crowd when a tornado appeared and sucked every fan who was starring at my beautiful presentation. That’s it. No sexy girl, no mysterious killer. Only me, a plane, spectators and this tornado. When I was younger, I really liked interpreting my dreams. But I soon realized that it could be dangerous, that what they tell you isn’t always something you want to know about yourself. Me versus a tornado. Me versus death. This one would have been easy to interpret in those circumstances. However, I didn’t want to.
I woke up 10 minutes later, still going to the hospital where we would see his cadaver. I asked myself if I was normal. Even if I didn’t like him. Even if he was beating my mother. Is it normal not to fell sad after my father’s death? No, it isn’t. And I felt guilty. Guilty for not trying to help him, to save him. She’s suffering beside me because I didn’t try to be the superhero. Maybe I’m like all those jerks. I only cared about my fate. I didn’t listen to her needs. I’m like them. The radio was unplugged, and I didn’t try to know why. She loved him, even if he was beating her. And I did nothing to help him, to help her. I’m a jerk.
And I cried.
I didn’t want to think anymore as the city’s lights began to appear in the horizon. She cried and I cried too. I never thought it would be so much of a relief to cry in this monotonous car. I opened the radio to the most commercial radio station you could think of. You could hear this sad song that seemed like every other song. A song as boring as you could even think of. A song everyone would like. I should probably like it because I’m like everyone.
On
***
