Word Vomit

I am having serious writers (bloggers?) block lately. So here's a couple more story pieces! I'm thinking this would work out better as a screenplay, since all the pictures in my mind are so much clearer than the words. We'll see.

(Part of Ari's confrontation with her dad)
“You should be grateful for all I’ve done for you! You were the first of your friends to have a digital camera or an MP3 player, and you wore the most unnecessarily expensive name brand clothes to school every day! Your life was much more privileged than those sewer rat kids could ever dream! You should thank me.”

“Buying me things doesn’t make you a good parent! For God’s sake, you kicked me out when my image didn’t meet your expectations. If the government didn’t basically save my life, I’d be homeless right now, or locked up in some institution. I’ve already been there, thanks to you. A huge chunk of my life is gone and I can’t ever get that back. Don’t you ever tell me that you gave me a good life. If anything, you took it away.”

(What a panic attack really feels like)
There is nothing like feeling trapped to bring out the worst in someone. I felt the color drain from my face and my heart started to race. The rain that tapped against the window seemed to be mocking me. I was desperate to escape from the warm, quiet cabin and run down the pitted gravel road until I collapsed from exhaustion. My lungs felt like they could explode, or implode, I wasn’t quite sure. I clenched my jaw to keep myself from screaming and disturbing the only ten people on the planet who treated me like an equal. A pitiful whine escaped from inside me as I slumped against the wall in the darkened entryway. I was sure the uncomfortable pounding in my chest was already disturbing the midnight silence, but if Jordan heard it, he paid no attention. Everyone was asleep but us.