This shouldn’t have happened.
If it’s really that unstoppable, I must take the fall, not the other. My favourite black jeans is now torn at my knee as I skid past the lorry trying to avoid crashing into the car that crossed us. Little did I know the disc brakes were so effective.
I could feel tiny little pieces of glass and rock piercing through my skin. The bike was lighter than ever as I could lift it without any effort within seconds after our fall. A few moments later, I realise I’m unable to walk forward or bend the knee. The left elbow hurts. There’s blood in the mud. Where’s he!? Is he hurt? Just as I started to think, he came to me, started the bike and asked me to hop on.
“Are you drunk??” Asked the person cleaning my wounds, in the hospital.
“Where’s he?? Is he hurt?” I asked him and continued chewing gum.
“He’s off to pay the bill and get you the required medicines. Tell me, are you drunk?” He asked, gesturing me to lie down on the bed to get vaccinated.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“I removed a few pieces of glass, and five tiny stones from the wound. You’re lucky you don’t need stitches.” He continued, “there you go.”
I feel a sharp pain surging through my ass. Two vaccines? Seriously? Now I can barely sit.
“Don’t fold your leg, get it dressed everyday” the doctor added, walking into the room.
“How long does it take to heal?” I muttered, taking out another gum from my pocket.
“Depends. A month, maybe.” And he walked away.
As I stepped out, taking the helper’s support, there stood my brother, unscratched, laughing at what happened. What followed was two painful hours of laughter filled ride back to the village.
It’s been five years since this happened. I found a photograph this morning, imagine not being able to bend my knee for a month and doing things. (Ahem! If you know what I’m saying)