Personal Narrative-Absinthe Vs.

I outstretch my discolored wings, letting the cold night air sift through my feathers. The silk cloak my Father leant me isn’t doing much to keep me warm. My mind is filled from the words me and him had exchanged earlier. They still haunt me. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I begin to relive all that has happened.
“Absinthe! Absinthe, are you listening to me?” Father calls out from behind the kitchen counter. I pretend not to listen and continue reading my book on the plain living room couch. I already know what he’s going to say.
“Absinthe, really, dear. You’re almost eighteen- time for your choosing. Absinthe, please,” he begs. Satisfied with his tone, I decide to tune in and listen to what he has to say. “Absinthe, honey. You know you have to choose. It’s the law. If you don’t choose to become either a demon or an angel, you’ll disappear forever. And you have to do it by your eighteenth birthday. you understand?” He crosses his arms and stares blankly at me from across the room. …show more content…
“I just don’t care if that happens to me. Why does it matter?”
Agitated, Father says, “Look, Absinthe. I understand where you’re coming from. Your mother didn’t die for you to just give up. I bet Damien’s already got his angel wings by now,” he looks off to the distance, “where ever he