"He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at me with a slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a fixed from-under stare which made me think of a charging bull." - Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad

My intimidation was not going to get the best of me, I was going to face my fears. The man coming at me with his shoulders hunched knew what he needed to do, and I knew what that was. As he grew near i could hear the anger in his steps, and the room grow silent. I think it was just my imagination running wild but he seemed to grow a strange amount from when he entered the room to the four more steps he took in my direction. My puny arms and noodle like legs were nothing compared to what stood before me. I did not want to act cowardly, I was not a coward. But I am only twelve, I am only a little girl, terrified at what my father might do. Why had I run away? How could I have done this, I'm the responsible one too! I was ready for the pain and i winced as he came forward dropping down to my level. I could not look. What was he about to do? To my surprise, nothing. He grabbed my hand as we hurried from the building. My punishment came later when I was home sitting at the table with BOTH my mother and father. There was no physical pain, although now I'm wishing there was. Their disappointment was enough alone not counting the 3 weeks of help around the house and in the yard, along with no social life and homework was to be done before dinner. Why did I do this? Why did I do this?