Isobel's Regret

Spoiler

My emotion was Shame. I chose the song: "Nobody's Perfect (clean version)" by Jesse j.
Here are the lyrics to the song:

When I'm nervous I have this thing, yeah, I talk too much
Sometimes I just can't shut the hell up
It's like I need to tell someone, anyone who'll listen
And that's where I seem to mess up

Yeah, I forget about the consequences
For a minute there I lose my senses
And in the heat of the moment my mouth starts going
The words start flowing, oh

But I never meant to hurt you
I know it's time that I learned to
Treat the people I love like I wanna be loved
This is a lesson learned

I hate that I let you down
And I feel so bad about it
I guess karma comes back around
'Cause now I'm the one that's hurting, yeah

And I hate that I made you think
That the trust we had is broken
Don't tell me you can't forgive me
'Cause nobody's perfect
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, nobody's perfect, no

If I could turn back the hands of time
I swear I never would've crossed that line
I should of kept it between us
But, no, I went and told the whole world how I feel and oh

So I sit and I realize
With these tears falling from my eyes
I gotta change if I wanna keep you forever
I promise that I'm gonna try

But I never meant to hurt you
I know it's time that I learned to
Treat the people I love like I wanna be loved
This is a lesson learned

I hate that I let you down
And I feel so bad about it
I guess karma comes back around
'Cause now I'm the one that's hurting, yeah

And I hate that I made you think
That the trust we had is broken
So don't tell me you can't forgive me
'Cause nobody's perfect
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, nobody's perfect

I'm not a saint, no, not at all, but what I did, it wasn't cool
But I swear that I'll never do that again to you, oh
I'm not a saint, no, not at all, but what I did, it wasn't cool
But I swear that I'll never do that again to you, yeah

I hate that I let you down
And I feel so bad about it
I guess karma comes back around
'Cause now I'm the one that's hurting, yeah

And I hate that I made you think
That the trust we had is broken
So don't tell me you can't forgive me
'Cause nobody's perfect, no

I hate that I let you down
And I feel so bad about it
I guess karma comes back around
'Cause now I'm the one that's hurting, yeah

And I hate that I made you think
That the trust we had is broken
So tell me you can forgive me
'Cause nobody's perfect, yeah, yeah, whoa

Don't tell me, don't tell
Don't tell me you can't forgive me
No, no, no, no
'Cause nobody's perfect, no

Isobel's Regret

It’s been waiting for me.

For us.

All this time. Just lying there. Waiting.

Loose silver script slithered across the front cover of the Bible. Isobel smoothed her fingertips over the raised lettering, contemplating whether or not she dared pick up the book. It was so beautiful; so holy. Former sins flooded Isobel’s mind, cluttered her brain in a swelling haze. Her stomach writhed.

I’m a sinner: what right do I have? But still...God must want me to find him. I’ve tested his patience; ignoring the presence of his sacred book for so long. But he hasn’t given up. Not yet.

Clutching the Bible, Isobel slid back into an old leather chair and curled her knees to her chest. She shot a quick glance below. Swaddled within a cosy woollen blanket, her daughter, Ella, was sleeping soundly. Isobel gently rocked the carrier, smiled as her baby wriggled for a few moments then snuggled back inside the soft folds of her coverlet.

Isobel’s eyes flickered away, fell to her lap. She felt completely overwhelmed as she fingered the delicate, threadlike pages of the book. Pangs of inadequacy rippled through her veins, and a thick blanket of shame enveloped her body.

A fragile echo of guilt thundered silently through Isobel’s bones.

Hesitantly, she began leafing through the Bible. Isobel stopped when came to the book of Psalms, chapter twenty-three. She scanned the small passage quickly. A wave of familiarity rushed over her. Calm descended upon Isobel’s shoulders, and a foreign happiness tingled inside of her.

I’ll read this to Tommy.

Folding the corner of the page, she tucked the book under her arm, and slid closer to the Hospital bed. There he was, limp and vulnerable, thick white bars incarcerating his once lean, muscular body.

Tommy.

Isobel leant forward, slipped her fingers around his loosely curled fist. She squeezed it tightly, blinking away threatening tears.

I’m sorry, Tommy...So, so sorry.

Salty droplets moistened her parched lips. Isobel licked them greedily. Wetness engulfed her vision, blurring Tommy's form. Angrily, she brushed them away.

A white cotton tunic clung loosely to Tommy’s body. Through the thin layer of cloth, Isobel could identify blistering patches of open wound. The sight of his scarlet flesh made her stomach jolt with a surge of horror. She cringed, clenching her eyes shut.

God...please forgive me.

Isobel’s gaze shifted. Her irises came to rest upon Tommy’s face. His expression was calm; serene. He bore a long, ugly gash upon his forehead, and a repulsive, plum-coloured bruise throbbed around his left eye. Thick yellow puss seeped from its corner.

Tommy’s beauty had been lost.

It’s my entire fault.

His skin once resembled pure, unblemished porcelain, and his eyes were glowing, sapphire blue. His best asset was his smile. It was a glorious, radiant smile, capable of lighting up a room full of people.

He may never smile again.

The suggestion sent a shudder down her spine. Her whole body stiffened. Flashbacks bulleted through her mind, and a dull ache pulsed though her skull.

If only.

Isobel thought back to that night: the night when her blood was stirred with Gin. The night when alcohol bridled her tongue; when vicious words had pierced the air like razor shrapnel.

They’d both been drinking. It was a way to cope; a method of escape.

They were in debt; about to loose their house. The last few days they had spent together were full of tears and cursing and arguing.

Isobel’s last words to Tommy, and his to her, replayed constantly in her mind. They stung the very marrow of her bones with shame.

‘Go to Hell!’ Isobel had screamed, adding: ‘And don’t ever come back!’

‘Gladly!’ Tommy retorted, his words slightly slurred. ‘I’ll go anywhere as long as I’m away from you!’

I never meant to say what I did, Tommy.

He’d grabbed his car keys, unbolted the front door, and slammed it behind him. Isobel had heard the revving of his engine as he’d drove away.

She received a call in the early hours of the same morning. Tommy had been drinking at the pub with his friends. He’d crashed the car whilst driving home.

Isobel had fallen to her knees, sobs racking her body, and tears of profound regret spilling from her eyes.

Tommy had first-degree burns and was in a coma.

Just like that.

Tommy, will you ever forgive me?

Isobel shook her head, trying to clear her mind of all that had been done; all that could not be reversed. She patted her eyes dry, and took one last, solemn look at her precious Tommy, the man she had so foolishly taken for granted.

Isobel retrieved the Bible from the nook of her arm, opened it, and began to read.

Hey there Amelia!

Great job on this. It flowed well, and I really think you captured the emotions you expressed, well. The ending made me shiver. It's so true that your world can turn on its head at any given moment. It made me think too, of all the things I take for granted, and what I'd do if they were taken from me. Great job on that too. Getting the reader to think about the story, long after they've finished reading, is a sign that you've done your job as a writer

I do think this story tips more on the emotion of regret than shame, but I get that shame is a harder emotion to convey, and it can end up sounding more regretful than shameful. I think the emotions are so close together in your piece that they go together. Isobel really does sound remorseful and ashamed of herself in this and you've made her sound really quite realistic.

The descriptions that you used really added to the story and I was really able to picture Tommy laying in the hospital bed. Poor guy!

The only thing I can think that would make the shame stand out a little more, would be if you were to add more in about the daughter. Maybe something about how if something bad happens to Tommy, i.e. he dies, then she doesn't know if she'll be able to bring her daughter up alone, or as well as if Tommy were still around. Then she'd be ashamed and blame herself for not giving her daughter the best start in life. Nothing too much, or it could ruin the awesome flow you have going on here, but just something small enough to play up the shame a bit more.

I'm sorry for not being much help, but I think this was a pretty good story. I enjoyed it

Good luck in the contest!

xDudettex

Hi Amelia,

You write a clear and well defined prose. You manage to paint your character's emotions quickly too.

Nevertheless, I think that the basic idea you had here was not carried out as well as it might have been. Dudette makes a good point about this being more about regret than about shame. There are a number of other points that I would like to point out as well.

Firstly and most importantly, your story reads like an anti-abortion rant. I am not sure if this what you intended, but because of the disconnect between the cause and the effect it sounded as though you were giving across the following message: Because she wanted to get an abortion God came down and smote the boyfriend.

The significance of the abortion as the cause of their argument together with the bible and repentance to God as a theme invariably leads a reader to come to this conclusion. If, for instance, she regretted telling her boyfriend to go to hell and driving him again, the bible would not be expected to play such a strong role. If this is true, your emphasis in the story seems to be misplaced. We see her regretting the fact that her boyfriend is in a coma, but she never acknowledges consciously why she was wrong about the abortion.

What results is an improper apology to God. She resents the fact that she was punished rather than the fact that she opted for the abortion. You need to stress how she recognized her mistake. Furthermore, why would God strike down the very boyfriend who was against the abortion?

If, however, she was not sorry about wanting an abortion but rather about her fight, you don't need to go into such great detail about the subject of the argument being abortion.

Your prose is also very telly. You need to show the flashbacks, of the drunken slurs and the drinking if you want it to penetrate. Not just the occasional piece of dialogue. As it stands it seems shallow and I feel nothing upon reading it. I like the idea of beginning in the hospital room. I don't like the way you have returned to the past to show the history. That needs a lot of work.

It also seems like you are preaching to the reader. I don't know if that bothers you, but I can see it bothering many readers.

Hope this helps!

Hey Amelia I'm here as promised!!! This was amazing. The first line caught my eyes and I couldn't resist reading the rest. ^^ I honestly don't have any complaints...not much I think needs fixing at all. The flow was very well done. Also I liked how you show the struggle for Isobel. Good job and very well done. I'm glad I read it. Hope this helps a little bit but good luck. Happy Writing and best of lucks ^^
Soulkana<3<3

Hey Amelia! I’m going to review your piece.

This was very brilliantly written. I like the simplicity and honesty of the title, by the way. Just thought I would let you know.

You have your own writing style, which I really like. I enjoy it when writers have their own styles. I like yours and it is actually a style I hardly ever see. It really encourages the reader to keep reading. It’s intimate. You use great descriptive words in all the appropriate places of your writing. It makes it feel so complete. Your writing style is just very lovely.

The story was strong. I really liked it a lot. The emotions you captured were spotless. I could really sense Isobel’s penitence and sorrow. She was ultimately so rocked to the core with her emotions that I felt very connected to her, even though I only had a short glimpse of her life. You have a way with making relatable characters, something I struggle with myself.

I liked the fact that she was connecting with God and Scripture in her time of need, and the fact that she was seeking forgiveness because she felt disgraced. It really strengthened the idea that Isobel yearned for redemption.

One critique: The word “loose” or “loosely” is slightly repetitive. That was the only thing I caught.

Overall a lovely, powerful piece you have here. I can’t get over how great this was.

I can’t wait to read more of yours!

--H.

Hello. A rather late review for Capture that Emotion.

A structural thing first: your semicolon use. Pretty much every single time you used a semicolon, you should have used a comma instead. This consistent punctuation misuse is highly distracting and prevented me from really getting into the prose. The way to test if you have used a semicolon properly is to replace it with a period. If you do not have two fragments, then you have used a semicolon correctly; it should only be used to connect two independent clauses together. (Like I just did there) If the result is a fragment, then either replace the semicolon with a period for emphasis or a comma to make it grammatically correct. Semicolons do not have the same rule-breaking allowances as periods, which make them a highly distracting way to fragment sentences.

As for the story itself, I found that it captured the emotion decently. You had her half-praying to God, the reason for shame, and an attempt to permeate every aspect of the story. But the baby in the opening was pretty much completely forgotten later on, and the leather chair doesn't strike me as completely realistic. For me, hospital chairs are like conference chairs: not all that comfortable and only designed to perch, sometimes sleep when you're too tired to do anything else, on. It made the opening feel like a living room while the rest of the piece was a hospital.

Also, you're missing a lot of ambient noise, gauges and props in the hospital room itself. Like, a heart monitor, doctors going past the halls, hums of other machines, potentially artificial breath, an oxygen mask, an IV, feeding tube... Past the bandages and hospital bed, there wasn't much to define the room as a hospital room. It made the story stop just short of realism.

That's really what hurt the story here. The emotion was there, but everything around the emotion was missing. You could've used each detail to heighten the shame (each thing shouldn't be there because of her), but instead you were completely introspective and didn't use your environment to its full potential. Combined with the semicolon misuse, it's hard for me to like the story as much as I want to.

PM me if you have any questions or comments.

~Rosey