Stitched Up
The snow is piling
down outside my house. I look out the window seeing white everywhere. The snow
has covered every inch of my yard and street. The snow storm was picking up its
pace. The wind starts picking up its pace, trees moving side to side. A white
dusting rolls over the street. I put on
my warm, fuzzy pajamas and head downstairs to talk with my sister. I make sure
to put on my favorite white socks since; it is about 63 degrees in my house. My
parents hate turning on the heat, they think it is a waste of money. But, it is
below freezing so maybe they will make an acceptation. I scurry down the
stairs, so I can ask my sister if she wants to go outside.
I walk into the kitchen to see my sister and my mom
sitting there, gossiping about work and school. They suddenly stop when I walk
into the room. My eyebrows crease, confused on why they stopped. My hand reaches
out to the fridge handle and I grab an ice cold water bottle. I gulp down a few
sips, enjoying the coldness of each sip. My breath fogs up the bottle.
Suddenly, my sister, Mallory, walks too close to my face. My sister eggs me on for a challenge. “Hey Maddie, I bet that I can swing on the
counter and fridge and you can’t.” My sister and I have a complicated
relationship. We do fight like every other normal sister but sometimes, we
actually like each other.
I roll my eyes and declare, “Mallory, I can beat you at
anything.” I accept the challenge, praying that I will win. I usually lose when
it comes to Mallory. My mom doesn’t know what to say as she looks back and
forth to Mallory’s face and then to mine.
“I think this is going to be a bad idea. Someone could
get hurt,” my mom warns us. My mom is one of those watch-everything-you-do kinds
of moms. She will do anything to protect us. We both laugh at the silliness of
this warning.
My sister goes first. I watch her as she puts one of her
hands on the counter top. Pushing it down to make sure she has a tight grip on
the counter. She places her other hand to the fridge handle. She moves her hand
up and down to make sure her hand is in the correct place. I can see her
muscles flexing as she lifts her body off the ground. She begins to sway back
and forth, her face goes from totally freaked out to a smirk. She leaps down
and does a little dance, proving to me how easy it could be. I smug, I try to
hide my actual feelings, scared to death.
It was my turn to prove myself to my sister. I test out
the fridge first to make sure it will not open. I place my hands exactly where
my sister’s hands were. The surface is warm from Mallory’s hand being placed there,
firmly. I lift my tiny body and start to sway. I am actually doing it. I look
towards Mallory and give her a smug, as I sway. I suddenly hit a sharp object.
A huge bang is echoed through the house as I fall down to the ground. I try to
shake my body and I can see my sister laughing at me. I stand up and start to
head downstairs, my head looking down, embarrassed of what just happened.
I sit down at the steps and sigh. I reach down to fix my
sock when I notice a red blob filling my sock with liquid. It spreads quickly,
towards my ankle. The liquid is warm against my cold skin. I limp up the
stairs, making sure that I don’t get it on the steps. I yell for my mom to come
down here. I hear a pounding of feet, running down the stairs. They run towards
me and I show them my favorite sock, it once was as white as the snow and is now
a dark red. I peel my sock off, slowly; making sure nothing comes out of it. I
try to find the place that is supplying all the blood. I look everywhere when I
suddenly see a hole right in-between my toes. I gasp and almost faint, the
blood is oozing out and all I can see is just red. A deep circular hole is
right in my foot. The aroma of flesh is spreading throughout the room. A deep
shade of red starts spreading over my mother’s face, matching my foot. I can
see her eyebrow start to move up and down, twitching from the shock. My sister’s
face is no longer a smirk, it is complete astonishment. Her mouth makes an O
shape. I hear her gasp from across the room. If she is scared then it makes me
even more terrified.
“Donna, will you come down to our house. We had a little
accident over here,” my mom shakily says as she hangs up her phone. I can tell
she is trying to act calm, but I can see the panic in her eyes. Donna arrives a
short time after the phone call. She takes my foot and examines it. She moves
my toes to the side and asks if certain things hurt. I return the question with
a nod.
Five stitches later, my foot is patched up. I return
home from the hospital, limping. The boot on my left foot is giving me hope
that I will heal soon. As I limp up the stairs, I hear my sister saying, “Told
you, you couldn’t do it.”
