My Mistake
Have you
ever poked holes in a water bottle so you could drink out of the top? Well my
sisters and I used to do that all the time and I quickly found out that was a
very bad idea. My sister was sick and I was in charge of helping her. I hated
like this job; I had to do everything for her. I had to get food and drinks for
her, get blankets for her, and anything else she wanted. At this particular
moment she wanted a Gatorade, so that’s what I went out to get her, and that’s
what led to my mistake. I went out to the refrigerator in my garage and pulled
out an electric blue Gatorade. I brought it over to the couch where she was laying,
watching TV. And of course this wasn’t good enough. She wanted a hole in the
lid so she could drink it out of it without taking the lid off. When we were
younger, we used to poke holes in the tops of water bottles with pencils or
pens so we could drink out of them. We never did this with Gatorade bottles
because of how thick the lids were. But, for some reason right then sounded
like a good time to do it. I took the Gatorade to the desk in the kitchen and
pulled out a pencil, then a pen. I could not manage to get a hole in the top of
the thick orange lid. It was much thicker than the thin plastic lid I was used
to poking holes in.
“What’s
taking so long?” yelled Sydney.
“There’s no
way to get a hole in this lid,” I replied.
“Use a
knife,” she whined back sounding annoyed with how long I was taking.
That’s exactly what I did. I went to the
kitchen drawer and pulled out one of our kitchen knives. I knew this was a bad
Idea, but I did it anyway. I held the bottle in one hand and gripped the handle
of the knife in the other. I worked for a few minutes on this, twisting the
knife around. Not making much progress, I continued to work on it. Getting
tired of trying this I was about to give up. Then my hand slipped and slowly
slid down the knife. It was as if this happened in slow motion. I let go of the
cold blade feeling my warm blood run over my hand. The knife hit the counter
with a loud high pitched noise. I was standing there looking at my finger for a
second, not knowing what do about what had just happened. I didn’t feel it at
that moment, it didn’t even hurt that bad. I decided it was best to go over to
the sink and run my hand under the cool water. I stood there stunned; trying to
convince myself it wasn’t as bad as it looked.Maybe all I need it a Band-Aid. I can handle this myself. It’s just a
cut. My mind was going insane.
“Mom!” I
screamed. She was upstairs and couldn’t hear me.
“Mom!” I
repeated even louder, the word barely came out, as I began to cry.
“Yes?” she
said back to me not expecting what I was going to say.
“Come here!
I cut my finger.”
She came
down the stairs expecting me to only need a Band-Aid. She was shocked to see
the blood dripping from my finger as I held it tightly.
She asked me what happened and I
explained how Sydney wanted a hole in the top of her Gatorade bottle, and
that’s what I unsuccessfully was trying to accomplish. She held my finger
trying to decide if I needed stitches or not. A few minutes later, she decided
I did. This was not what I wanted to hear. This was on my right hand; I use
this hand for everything. I put my jacket on and we left. Sydney stayed at home
and watched TV with her Gatorade that didn’t have a hole in it.
When
I got to the doctor I explained what had happened to the nurse, which was very
embarrassing. I should have known not to
use a knife, I thought to myself. I left the hospital with three stiches on
my pinky finger. If Sydney wasn’t sick none of this would have happened. In the end, I learned not to use knives to do stupid things.
Explanation: Over all I think I did a good job using dialoge. I choose dialoge that would help with the mood of the stort. I also thought I used good word choice. For example I explaind my voice when I began to cry instead of just saying I said.
