Scenario 1 (Fear) and Scenario 3 (Anger)

(Scenario 1)
Dark clouds filled the sky, looming ahead like a heavy curtain. I rushed for the nearest shelter possible. Ruffling my hair, I pressed the lift button. I took a few slurps of my milkshake while waiting impatiently for the lift. After what seemed like forever, the lift door opened. Upon entering the lift, a man in his late 30s rushed into it. God, it was just like a sudden suspense. Out of the blue, I recalled having heard of some instances whereby the residents in the neighbourhood were robbed recently and the culprit was still on-the-run. The small hairs on the back of my neck's stirred. I scanned him head to toe, and to my astonishment, he matched exactly what was described by the victims of the culprit. Corded arm muscles, toned body, buck tooth... IT WAS PRECISELY WHAT WAS DESCRIBED. I studied him again, ensuring not to enable him to catch me while doing so. In the midst of my inspection, I noticed a bright silver blade glazing at the back of his pocket. A knife, it was. I shifted my gaze to his face, and he gave me a sinister look. He pulled out his knife...

(Scenario 2)
My face flushed with indignation as I gazed at my brand new Nike bag. Unexpectedly, all the efforts I succumbed into saving up for the bag did not paid off. I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth as I stood up, yelling at the top of my voice,"WHO THE HELL DIRTIED MY NIKE BAG?" And then the class was so silent that I could hear a pin drop. They stared at me as I panted hastily. No one replied. Awkward silence. I went back to my seat, and as I reached for the inner pockets of my bag, I felt slimy, wicked stuff perched onto my fingers. Realizing that it was 2 cracked eggs, I could not be bothered anymore but just to complain to my form teacher. At that point of time, I did not even care whether I was called a coward. I scurried for my teacher, thinking whether there was a possibility of another burden. Along came Valerie, huffing and puffing, trying to inform me in between pants that she found my pencil case in the dustbin, cut into shreds. I WAS RIGHT. It was, by date, the WORST day of my entire life. I carried on hurrying for my teacher, as my lips pursed with suppressed fury.