Starting to grow bored of playing with my polly pockets, I got up off the ground, looking for something else to do. Leaving my mess of dolls scattered across my bedroom floor, I decided to head downstairs to the playroom, my favorite polly pocket still clutched tightly in my tiny fingers.
I skipped down the stain-covered green carpet staircase, my pigtails bobbing up and down with every step. My mother was busy chattering away on the telephone and Cassie was trying to teach my new baby sister how to dance. Of course she just sat there motionless, staring blankly at my older sister, trying to comprehend the words flying out of Cassie’s mouth.
I continued on my way towards the back room and spotted what I’d been looking for, the toy box. A smile spread across my lips as I placed one little foot on the edge and my hands on the sides. Then using all my strength I managed to pull myself over the wall that separated me from my toys. Now, I had done this on a regular basis, but this time, something went completely wrong.
Pain stabbed the back of my neck and tears began streaking down my face instantly. My mother came running into the room, and scooped me into her arms, while trying to figure out why I’d begun crying. Suddenly, she let out an ear-splitting scream. Blood stained her long sleeve shirt where she’d had my head propped up. My mother dashed into the living with me still shrieking in her arms, grabbed my two sisters, and sprinted to the car.
After about five minutes due to my mom’s insane speed driving, we arrived at the hospital. In the waiting room I’d fallen asleep, wrapped in my mothers arms. My eyelids opened wide to reveal that I was in a room that I didn’t recognize at all. I panicked, but then I saw my mom standing next to me, and my body relaxed. One tiny finger moved to my neck, and I grazed my fingertips across the newly implanted stitches.