The Scar That Scared Me This story begins back when and way when I was in the third grade. I was Just an average little booger eater, as my dad would say. Back in elementary school, you had recess every day, which was nice. I went outside with the rest of my class like I did every day, it was perfectly normal. I was playing with my friend when I decided to go sit down and take a breather. Out of middle of nowhere, a little water bottle flies through the air aiming directly at my left, your right if you’re looking at me, eye brow.
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And then everything went black. The water bottle hit the side of my face where my eye brown is. It hit with some much velocity that it actually ripped my eye brow open. Blood was spewing out of the huge gash in my eye brow; it was running down my face, dripping all over my clothes, and all over the pavement. It was a gruesome sight, not that I could see, or at least out of my left eye. My teacher saw me writhing in pain on the ground and came over to see what I was complaining about. When she saw me, she flipped out big time.
Teacher instinct kicked in and she called the principal and took a Band-Aid and put it on the gash to close it up and hopefully stop the bleeding. The whole half of my face was entirely red now, and the principal came out and saw me. I was rushed to eh in-school child hospital or nurses office. My mom came and picked me up and I was rushed to the nearest hospital to get stitches put in. Being hurt really hurt but it was also good because I knew I was going to get a ton of attention the next day, which was good when you were eight years old.
When I got to he hospital, it took about ten minutes to get me into an operation room where they stitched my eyebrow shut. I was given morphine or something like that to mum my skin so I didn’t feel them poking my skin. It was truly a bazaar experience and I will never forget it. When this experience happened, it not only scared me physically, but mentally also. When the water bottle hit my face, it left a gash about an inch long vertical to my fee and the lady at the hospital said that the gash almost went to my skull. That was the physical scar, it really hurt.
The mental scar was two things. One, I was chronically afraid of water bottles for the rest of my school year. If anyone as so much tossed a water bottle in any fashion, I would flinch and run screaming out of the room, or well maybe Just the first part. The second thing was that I was very afraid to talk to my friend, the kid who threw the water bottle. I wouldn’t go anywhere near him. If he tried to talk to him, I would run away, yes seriously. So after I recovered from the accident, I got back to school and found out the whole deal.
The story is that one of my friends had thrown a water bottle at my other friend. He wanted to hit the kid back, so he whipped the water bottle in his general direction, one direction that is, anyways, I was right in the path of the water bottle. He wasn’t aiming for me but rather the kid that was standing two feet behind me. It was an accident none the less, but it still stuck with me for a while. So Mrs.. Ford, that is one reason why I “hit the deck” when you pulled back with the water bottle, those things are dangerous you know, so be careful. My Scar Essay By Layout