needles

I was a little kid. It was my second time here in the hospital of Sao Paoulo, I was going to take another one. Another one of thouse shots when the shove a needle into your skin and and you can feel the cold metal inside your arm while they suck out your blood cells right off of your body, like an annoying mosquito. I dispised (and also mosquitoes). That’s why I it took 5 minutes to take me out of the car, thats why they had to pick me up, bring me inside the hospital, and strap me in a chair to untill the doctors call my name. I looked around at other kids, all calm watching the mini TV that is located in the room, not knowing of what will be comming next. And me, sweating, heart pumping, going crazing, and making stuff up to get me out of the horrible place as soon as possible, but it was too late, it was my turn.
I passed the hallway of hell as I heard  the scream of terrified kids as I passed by the doors. And there it was, my room, waiting for my doom.

 I went throw the door, with my hand squishing on the hands of my mother, and there was the doctor, holding the needle, just to get me afraid before I die. I sit down in the seat, terrified, and before he could stick it in my arm, I slap her in the face, falls to the ground. I had killed the murder. Well not really killed her but it hurt her. The next thing I remember was another doctor coming in, and a sense of pain in my right arm. I’m still terrified of needles, and I can’t stand looking at them inside my flesh, but now that im  more mature, and I try to ignore the pain so I don’t suffer as much.