“I needa sshower…” I thought of the blood. “I needa shower I needashower!”  The blood that had dripped steadily from the slice in the back of my head had curled my entire head of hair upon drying; like gel. I could feel it crunch and flake away when I touched it. I needed it gone. There was no shower in my hospital room, so I had to travel through the halls looking for the community bathroom holding on to a metal walker because I couldn’t walk in a straight line or stand, on my own. Halfway to the hospital showers the room started spinning. I threw up all over the hall, directly in front of a receptionist desk.
“NO! No, no! What is she doing out here? Take her back to her room!” I heard a nurse say to my mother.
“Theresabludh in mm’hair, laady! Thurrss bluduh! Ahneedit gone!” My speech was slurred and repetitive from the concussion.
The receptionist stared at me for a minute, then sat back down, shaking her head. “Take a quick one.” She let us pass.
Mom sat outside the shower on a little bench in the bathroom. I sat on the floor of the shower under the faucet, watching the water run dark red down the drain. It took forever to run clear… I might have just settled for light pink.

Luciana, 21