A theme that could be potentially learn from The Hate You Give is to move cautiously and carefully around uneasy officers who seem to assume the worst about you. Kahlil, for example, the officer asked Kahlil to get out of the car because Kahlil was passing attitude and, more than likely, because he was of color. The officer assumed the worst about Kahlil and even though Kahlil moved to just check on Star and to grab a hairbrush, he moved when the officer told him not to and 115, the officer, could not see what was in his hands or what he could be planning to do.

Her smile seemed to glow as she took pictures of what seemed like thousands of different sights. She approached a man for further directions, but they were foreign to each other , so communication was not going well and she could not get proper instructions. She walked down the side-walk as the sun set slowly in the direction the foreign man pointed. She had been touring all day and her feet hurt and she was exhausted. She began to notice a dark alley, but did her best to ignore it. She began to realize her surroundings were not at all familiar and began to hyperventilate because she convinced herself that she was lost, which attracted an aggressive passerby. He approached quickly, but she did not notice him over her heavy breathing. He wrapped his arm around her neck and carried her into the nearby ally-way. Two men appear out from the dark and inject her with an unknown substance forcing her to sleep.

She woke up to multiple mysterious men standing over top of her, watching her intently. She tried to scream, but a rope was knotted in her mouth; she rubbed her wrist and ankles with thick rope when she tried to wiggle out. The men exchanged some words in a foreign language. They left the woman alone in her misery, so she looked at her surroundings. She was tied to a table littered with weird symbols and what could be considered words. More men surrounded her, but they were all in dark robes and one carried a sharp tool, maybe a dagger.

Her wide eyes were tearing up as she attempted to cry for help, but to no avail the men began chanting in what could be considered poor Latin. They weapon holder lifted his dagger and plunged it into her chest. She choked on sobs at the intense pain, but she was quickly losing her breath. The dagger was swiftly ripped out of her chest and was licked by every man in the room.

Don´t travel alone, you never know what could happen to you.

• What are the dangers of a single story? Only knowing a single story about someone means you only see that story. You would put them in a stereotype that they more than likely don´t appreciate.

• What are some assumptions that you have about other people or groups of people(AKA your single version of their story.) A stereotype that I often stick by is if your overly thin your more than likely on drug or anorexic.
  • Where did you get this idea from? Well, I grew up around this stereotype and my parents often point out overly thin people while we´re in public and secretly call them names; usually along the lines ¨crackhead¨.
  • Have you had an interaction with this person or group of people, and was this idea that you already have of them actually true? I have, sadly enough, more than once in my lifetime.
• What are some assumptions people make about you? Some assumptions would have to be that I´m popular, nice, or really quiet and shy.
  • Are they accurate? I would like to consider myself nice, but I am definitely not popular. I can be quiet and sometimes I do feel shy.
  • Do you feel that people´s idea of you matches how you actually are? Only some what, it misses big things about how I look at people and the world.
  • How does their version of your story differ from your version of your story? I´m not completely positive this is how people stereotype me, but when I am home I´m usually more open, but I still can´t really communicate with strangers very well, so I am shy. I do stupid things for the people I love even if its underappreciated, but I don´t have a whole lot of friends and not a whole lot of people try to communicate with me.
• Why is it important to recognize the importance of multiple view points? I feel that it would be important to recognize multiple view points because you might not know what a person is going through or what they are thinking about and you don´t want to think about it one way when it could be another. You should not stick to one story.

Free Writing

They sat around a table in a local diner, spinning a bottle and passing dares on who it lands on. They laugh at some of the ridiculous dares as they were being completed. Wishful twisted the bottle in the middle making it spin and land on Disbelief. Wishful grinned and tapped her chin almost in thought,¨ I dare you to lay in the road.¨

Everybody looked at her like she had lost her mind, but Disbelief called her bluff and left the diner to lay on the currently busy road. Wishful was too late to follow her out, Disbelief got to far before she could get stop. There was a crash and disbelief everywhere.

Suddenly in Disbelief´s P.O.V.

¨I dare you to lay in the road.¨ Wishful grinned. I shrugged my shoulders and left for the road. They´ll stop me before I get too far and something bad happens. I think I heard Wishful try to stop me, but I was already on the sidewalk. I took a step at the wrong time and I think I got hit; I can´t see or feel my body. I can only here sobs and sirens in a long distance. I feel a two gentle fingers on my throat and a loud voice speak up,¨She is not breathing.¨

I tried to say something, anything, but nothing would come out. My body is in pain and the rugged road is scratching my back. I hear the sirens more clearly and a puddle of a warm liquid puddling around me. I wanted to move any part of my body, but I was physically incapable. Am I dead? I could not be sure anymore. I can only feel my body get picked up by the paramedics and Wishful asking to ride with them in-between her sobs. I could not sit up and hold her and tell her I´m fine because I don´t think I´m fine. I wish I could panic or breathe and move, anything to pull from the torture of the incapability of being able to save myself.