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I know that many people have fears or phobias. Some are rational, but some are not. Spiders, clowns, falling, the dark, or small places. But mine, of course, is completely qualified. An image that is forever burned into my brain, blood. But not just any blood, blood that drips from my hands like water, blood like the sun sunset, piercing red. Blood that warms your skin as it fills you with complete and total terror. My mother’s screams still ring in my ears like nails on a chalkboard. A wall of blur fogs up some of that particular memory, but I remember most of it, and I will never forget.
I remember my younger self. Short, oblivious, but still devilishly handsome. That night was pretty insignificant. I remember my mom saying good night and walking to my sister’s room, there was a muffle of voices. Normal, normal, normal. Getting hungry I reached across my bed to the small table next to me for some food I hadn’t finished. It happened really quickly. My hand slipped and, BAM! My chin landed right or the corner on the table. My hands quickly went to my chin; I thought that I had bruised it badly or maybe just hit it hard. “Mommmmm!” I wailed as loud as I could. When my mom rushed to the door she opened her mouth to speak, but words didn’t come out, it was a horrifying scream that probably woke the neighbors. Dumbfounded at my mom’s reaction, I stared at her will a mostly likely stupid expression, unaware of what had happened. A red dot caught my eye on the floor. I squinted to see… it was blood. My blood? No, that couldn’t be right! I slowly realized that my hands were still firmly placed on my chin, and warm. I pulled my hands away from my chin and gazed in horror. I now understood why my mom scream, my hands were covered with blood. My injury was worse than I thought. I got dizzy and most of what happened next, me going to the hospital, was a blur.
I don’t remember the hospital either. White maybe? Lots of doctors and sick people. They got be to the doctor and told my mom I needed stitches. Oh great, sounds like fun! They put me on a table and blotted my chin with a wet cotton ball. Almost immediately I could feel my chin and began to go in and out of sleep. I barely noticed the doctor standing over me with a needle. Then, after a while I slowly woke up, but the doctor wasn’t done yet. To this day, I still don’t know if the doctor knew that I was awake. He look at me and muttered “Well, the last one is gonna hurt the most”.
“Why?” I managed.

“Cause now I gotta close it all up!”

Oh great, I thought. The doctor lived up to his promise for the next few painful seconds. I guess you can say that that wasn’t the best experience ever. Seven stitches later, my little first grade self had had enough. I never ever want to relive that night. I learned to be a little most careful from that day. That scare that I got from those stitches is starting to fade but the mental one is still there. People need to be more careful, because the after effect isn’t fun.





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