P1Q5 example answer

Write a story about a disagreement.

From outside her dining room window, Olivia watched as the halo of the horizon greeted the blue sky and spring’s gentle breeze rustled the grass, glistening with dewdrops. The fresh, musky scent of the previous night’s rain enveloped the atmosphere; the enchanting display of flowers blossoming from the earth in her garden brought a smile to her face and the gleeful giggles of children playing in the nearby park blessed her ears. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Inside, Olivia and her husband Michael had sat down at the dinner table. Adorning their four walls was picture frame after picture frame of the couple lovingly embracing each other. In the heart of the room hung their wedding portrait – a symbol of their promises to each other. The perfect couple. That’s what Olivia’s friends said anyway. The pair shared the ‘love,’ and began laughing and joking with each other as they enjoyed their meal.

“‘Honey, you know you forgot to lock the door after you left the house yesterday,’” Michael said with a smile as sweet as nectar.

“‘No, babe, I’m sure I locked the door. I always do,’” Olivia replied, a puzzled look on her face. Then, as she reached for the beans across the table, her arm knocked over a glass of orange juice, soiling her husband’s jeans. Silence. The once joyous, harmonious symphony was replaced with an uncomfortable hush that swept over the room. Olivia’s chest rose and fell at an impressive rate; a sack of tears burned in her chest and every muscle in her body tightened. Apprehension overwhelmed her as she awaited Michael’s response. Suddenly, his eyes, which were once vessels of warmth and love, began to drip with spite. His face twisted into a blood-thirsty snarl.

“‘You stupid bitch!’” Michael bellowed as he raised his hand, vibrating with rage, and struck her helpless size across the face with a heavy blow.
“‘How dare you question me and then so carelessly drench me!’”

Olivia cowered away, clutching her throbbing cheek with a pained expression plastered on her face. A monster before her eyes!

Exploding with fury, Michael ordered her to leave the room. Without another moment of hesitation, Olivia raced down the hallway and hastily locked the bedroom door behind her; she face-knocked their wedding portrait off the wall. Finally, the sack of tears soaking Olivia’s throat burst and she erupted into a convulsing ragged-breath squall on the cold bedroom floor.

This was not the first time Michael had broken his sacred marriage vows. “‘To love and to cherish,’” he had said. Yet “‘Never again,’” he had said. Yet time after time Michael had raised his hand against her, apathetic to her gut-wrenching screams. Blotches of blue and purple that Olivia had to artificially hide with concealer adorned her pale face. You see, she had never wanted to tell anyone. Michael had said that it would be betrayal. Dishonouring God’s commandment for “‘wives to submit themselves to their husbands’.” A sin. Olivia had always cherished her faith; it had become her only refuge from the continued torment of her devil-possessed husband. So she always kept her mouth shut. Submitted. Hoped that, one day, the demons plaguing her husband’s soul would tremble. Olivia be exorcised.

Trembling, Olivia reached into her handbag for the numbing cream she always carried on her. Fumbling around, her fingers grazed a scrunched-up piece of paper. What is this? she thought. As she straightened out the piece of paper, a flood of emotions hit her. Confusion. Despair. Anger.

It had been a couple of months into the marriage. The day after Michael had hit her for the first time, Olivia was at the supermarket shopping for that night’s dinner. Her legs dragged across the floor with the weight of her sorrow. Then, her eyes fell upon the poster. Like an angel appearing to her. It was the Domestic Hotline Number. Olivia scribbled down the number and stuffed it into the depths of her bag, hidden from Michael’s prying eyes. That day, she had promised that if her husband had laid so much as a finger on her again, she would dial that number and never look back; she knew the Lord would find mercy on her.

Shame bubbled up inside Olivia. Fingering the creases in the piece of paper, she reflected on what her life had amounted to since that day. Time after time after time she had allowed Michael to drag her into the abyss of his false promises. “‘I love you,’” he had lamented. “‘I’ve repented,’” he proclaimed. A never-ending cycle.

It was then that Olivia decided that she had had enough. Never again would she allow Michael to harm her. Neither with his words, nor with his actions. Never again.

Mustering up the courage of her younger self, she dialled in the number – her fingers trembled with every digit. Tuning out the heartfelt plea from Michael thundering at the door, she waited, pleading with the Lord for mercy. As the phone rang, a smile broke through the endless tears streaming down her face. Only this time they were not tears of utter despair. They were tears of hope.