My Defining Moment

The hands that I look down upon can’t be mine, why because they’re covered in blood. But they must be, I also taste the blood on my lips every time I breathe. I can’t feel my face, all I feel is the adrenaline rushing through me. The blood, the adrenaline, and the metallic taste, all mixed together is too much. I start running to my mom. I can’t yell because if I do the blood will get in and the taste will remind me of how hurt I am. How could such a childhood experience end in blood and a broken bone? When I was younger I was just as bold as any kid that I know; however, one experience changed that, a broken nose. I was eight-years-old. The wind was crisp and warm, the grass was like little feathers tickling my feet when I ran on it. When I ran I could feel the warm, summer air hit my face that just made me run faster to get more air. The sun was like a spot light just on me as I ran faster and faster to the swing set. I ran and laid my belly on the cold plastic seat. I went up and I envisioned myself in my mind’s eye that I was superman. I went back and forth for a time, until my momentum left me. The excitement never did, so I ran back to my starting point and did it again. The time flew by while the excitement also slowly lost its edge.
The rebellion has begun. The growl of a caged animal came from my torso. I put it off. Then out of nowhere I got hit, over and over. The rebellion needed to be quenched if I want my torso not to be damaged. I painfully walked over to my porch and went up the Mt. Everest of wooden planks. Limping up bit by bit. If not for my will to survive, I don’t think I would have. The edge of my vision blurred. I wasn’t going to make it. The will to survive was leaving me. I wouldn’t make it, so I made one last pleading cry. My mom came out with a plate of food like a deity who had heard my call. I decided against sacrificing any goats to