She had a tiny little scar just below her knee that she got from shaving once. It didn’t hurt much, but it bled for what seemed like forever. She soaked through countless tissues trying to stop the red river trickling down her leg, but it was relentless.
The scrape hurt nearly immediately, stinging as if ten
angry bees had attacked it, and any time she tried to disinfect and
clean it, it hurt more. The worst, though, was the split second
before she felt the burn, when she was waiting for the pain to come
but was already bitter about it before it had even begun.