Blood on my Shirt

I can still feel the scars, even though you can't really see them. They've faded a lot, and they are barely noticeable. But I can still feel them.

I didn't even see it coming. One second I was petting the dog's back, the next it was latched onto my face. It was a pretty big dog; the canine's mouth enveloped my face, everything was dark and smelled like saliva. As I pulled away, the beast growled and I felt a ripping sensation.

I stood up in shock and stared at my friend. My face felt so weird. It didn't hurt really, it felt more like an odd pressure.

"What the--?" I managed to gasp.

I reached up to feel my nose. It felt like it had been smashed into my face. I gingerly touched my upper lip, right under my nose. When I pulled my hand down my fingers were covered in blood.

We rushed upstairs to get help. His dad rushed me back downstairs and into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. There I was, my face covered in blood and sweat, both dripping onto my white shirt. Red roses of blood bloomed across the front of my shirt, making it stick to my chest.
As soon as I saw this, a wave of nausea hit me, forcing me to sit down. I felt like I was going to throw up or pass out.

My face was sewn up at the hospital. I sat in the waiting area for the emergency room, holding wet paper towels to my face. I was called into a room. In order so that the doctors could stitch me up, they had to inject local anesthetics directly into each cut. One gash was in my cheek, the other next to my right eye, running down the side of my nose. The apex of the wound was five millimeters away from my eye. I had to get twelve stitches. Isn’t it strange that we remember these trivial things like the number of stitches we get? This happened to me five years ago, and yet I still remember how many sutures I got.

We had to throw the bloody shirt away. There was no way to wash the blood out.

For a while, I couldn’t be around dogs without being afraid. However, all these years later, my family might end up getting a dog. Now I can be around dogs without freaking out, as long as they are small and do not bite. My girlfriend’s dog and I have become best of friends.

Even though the dog bite was a traumatic experience, it helped me to grow. As they say, that which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.