I barely remember that day.
I cried out of pain. Someone ran water on the blood to wash away dirt. I was carried to a white room. They asked me questions, like what my favorite cartoon was. I couldn't answer because I was in pain, but mostly because the gas put me to sleep. It tasted like strawberries and made my eyes water.
When I woke up again, my dad was showing me how to make balloons out of the latex gloves. He looked sad. I felt like I had been sitting still forever.
Then I fell back asleep, and woke up on the couch days later.
Sometimes though, I don't think I ever really left that hospital. Maybe I'm still asleep. Maybe that medicine made me dream all this time. Maybe I died. Maybe I never existed at all.
How could I be sure, though? Did it happen in the first place? Was I ever injured? Am I still dreaming?
Dreams feel so real when they're happening, like you're sure you were there at it really happened.
He looked so sad.