As the blood rushed down my leg into the once clear water. I stood surprised and silent, my mind empty. Listening to just water showering upon me. This was my mistake. I stared at the wound for 2 minutes, senseless. My mind began to rush, just like the blood; How did I do this? How could I be this careless? I removed myself from what looked like a crime scene. The pain started to flood the gash that lingered on my leg. The plushing pain extended from my ankle to throughout my whole body. I sat frantically putting on a bandage, and another, and another, to slow down the surging blood from the lesion. My whole life and body changed, never to return to its original form.
The healing process took longer than expected, months and months. To what point was this more than a simple, small mistake? It turned into a huge problem on its own. What could be the ultimate reason for this whole mess? Maybe something bigger than anything one could ever imagine. I ached for weeks. My ankle fragile like glass and skin as thin as paper. My body added to the pain of the gruesome wound with every single step I took. Nothing could help the pain caused by the sliding razor that once grazed my skin.  The red mark bright as the blood that lingered moments after the incident itself remained that way until this very day. As it fades away, day by day, the scar still remains to tell the story once lived. After all, who knew shaving could be so dangerous?