The Crack in the Bucket

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Sometimes, when you look at one certain thing, it reminds you of something else. I was in class on a clear sunny afternoon at school. The breeze made me shiver, and it tickled the hairs on my right leg. I looked at my leg and noticed  a faint scar. In an instant, I remembered what had caused those scars. It was back in fifth grade, and it was pretty embarrassing to me what had happened. I was extremely stubborn to do that, and the consequences were big. I could vividly remember every detail.  Because of one decision, there was a huge consequence.
I was in the shower on a gloomy fall evening, doing normal things, when I noticed a bucket. I wanted to climb on the bucket and hang on the top of the shower wall panel. Should I do it? I kept thinking at myself. I had a feeling in my gut that something bad was going to happen, but the thing was, I wasn’t really thinking what the consequences were. I was just a stubborn fifth grader, so I blunty decided it couldn’t be that bad. All I had to do is to be careful right? Well, that’s not always the case. Little did I know I was going to spend the next ten minutes in panicking pain.
I was tiptoeing on the bucket, about to reach for the top, and all of a sudden I heard a crack. Before I could process what happened, my feet were on the ground and there was a big hole in the bucket. Thats right, both of my legs teared through the bucket because the weight was too much for the poor bucket to handle. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor and my legs and the water were gushing with bright red splotches of blood. I was in complete shock. “Oh god. Oh god.” I breathlessly said. It was all silent except for the continuous drops of hot water crashing into my back. I couldn’t cry or react because I was so taken aback by what just happened. Blood was pouring out of the three huge gashes on my legs, and the water was all red. It took me a while to realize I had to resolve this situation quick because I was already in the shower for a long time.
I started to wipe away the blood with my bare hands, but it wasn’t stopping. I started panicking. What if it won’t stop? Will I have to get stitches? Then something happened, and it happens to every injury, which is usually the worst part. The pain. It started to set in, slowly, and as water gushed down to my leg I could feel the stinging sensation. I furiously tried to wipe all the blood away in dread, and at the same time every time I touched one of the gashes, a sharp sting of pain would shoot at me. I stood up,turned the shower hose to maximum power, and aimed it right at my leg. I wasn’t thinking straight. Everything just happened so fast, it was hard to react. After the incident was over, I quickly grabbed a jar of bandages and limped to my room. It was still bleeding, and my pants were stained quite a bit from the blood. I stuck bandages all over my leg, and I was just so relieved it was over.
To this day, I have never told my parents about what had actually happened. When my parents asked me why there was a huge crack in the bucket, I lied and said I didn’t know. If I had told my parents, they would have scolded me for hours, and I would be grounded for sure. The whole experience shook me up and reminded me to think twice before attempting something that's not worth the consequences. I was not going to be the old stubborn fifth grader again.






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