THE TRIP
We all have good memories of our first trip: A nice visit to our grandmother’s house, an enjoyable weekend in a farm, a romantic and well deserved vacation on a beach or a stimulating expedition to an exotic place. But the memories of my first trip are not exactly the happiest one. They are in fact as traumatic as a rape scene.
The trip begun paradoxically as soon as my mother, my father and I arrived from a lovely afternoon at the cinema. My father was parking the car in the garage, while my mother and I ran up the staircase. She opened the door and I run at full speed. I hadn't notice that one of my shoe's lace was untied up. I stepped on it and I fell down. My head knocked against the edge of my bedroom door like a blacksmith hammer against the anvil. I stood up quickly but calmly. Suddenly a drop of blood run down my forehead before vanishing in my left eyebrow. I was strangely calm. My mother on the other hand was in panic and crying like a lunatic. She took my arms and we returned to the car. She ordered my father not to park the car since we had to go to the Hospital. The trip to the hospital was distressing. Although I didn't feel any kind of pain, my mother screams frightened me and turn the situation more stressful. My father drove like a mad convict after a jailbreak, dodging the others cars and holes in the street. The wheels screeched in each corner and the horn clear the way to hospital. For the first time in his life, my father didn't pay attention to the red light. Luckily, it was late in the night and there wasn’t any traffic agent around to catch us. When we arrived, I could notice the devastating panorama. The scene seemed to be taken from a war movie. People injured in the middle of the hall, painful screams spreading and echoing all over the room, women begging for a miracle and mothers crying inconsolably. The first sensation that disturbed (after the feeling of sadness and impotence of the doctors) was the smell of ethyl alcohol. When I smelled that, I intermediately felt a cold breeze all over my body. I froze myself. That sensation really frightened me. Then a nurse approached us and asked my mother what had happened. She told her and she began to examine me. Then, a doctor came and put his stethoscope in my chest. I was so scared and paranoiac that I felt the stethoscope like a cold sword through my skin reaching my vital organs. After that I was taken to a white room. There, Doctors were trying to explain me the situation and how they will proceed, but I was too frightened to understand even the simplest instruction. After that I felt sleep.
