Help! I've Fallen and I Knee-ed to Get Up

"Ahhh!" I said quietly to myself, as I took a breath of the warm, fresh evening air.

Dad, and his girlfriend, Phyllis, my grandparents, Bama and Papa and I, we were all walking to Alaskaland. I was a few feet ahead of everyone. I wasn't paying much attention to their conversation; only to my thoughts about the sunset and the beautiful day it was, being the last day of school.

Soon we walked into the very small back parking lot of Alaskaland. There were several cars and the nearby Chena River was calm.

The instant I saw the dock that led to the river I asked my dad if I could go to it.

"Oooo, Dad, look! Can I go on the dock?"

"Sure, go ahead," he replied, a bit distracted

I ran full speed before feeling a singeing feeling on the bottom of my foot. I immediately slowed to a stop and took off my pink Croc shoe. I sat down at a nearby picnic table and emptied my shoe of the single rock that it contained.

"Blood and guts?" I heard Bama ask. She always said this whenever anyone appeared to be injured.

"Oh no, just a rock in my shoe, ' I said reasuringly

I took off again, not a care in the world.
As I slowly ran the short distance towards the ramp leading to the dock, I noticed the strange texture that the ramp was.
it was metal, and it looked as if some one had layed down under it, and took a knife and started repeatedly jabbing the underside of the ramp; as a result of a very oddly spikey ramp.

I kept going, determined to do noting but get to the dock, and probably dip my feet in the cool water.

My first step onto the ramp was okay, but the next one was much, much more than agonizing pain.

My croc had caught in a spike, and I was on my way down!
There was a moment in my head before i hit the ground that seemed like forever.
'OH MY GOD!' The voice in my head screamed, 'WERE GONNA DIE! WERE GONNA DIE! AHHHHH! ITS GONNA HURT! AHHHHH!' Then for a split second, I somehow knew kid of what was going to happen. 'This is gonna leave a big gash, I wonder if I'll need stitches.... stitches will probably really hurt. I've had the before.' Then reality hit me again. Hard. 'AHHHH I'M GONNA DIE!

I felt myself sliding at least a foot.
And then, the worst thing hit me, and I was ready for it. Pain.
The palms of my hands were bleeding worse than I would have ever thought possible. There were multiple long thin scrapes going up my entire left shin. And then the worst pain hit me. An XL thick deep gash, right below my right knee cap. Blood poured out like a hose. And thoughts came to me:

Does anyone even know what's happening?
I listened hard. A soft voice came from far away.

"Are you okay, Isabella?" My dad's voice came slightly curious, but not too urgent.

Thoughts came again, and faster that a bullet this time.

I looked down; frightened. I was sitting in a pool of red. I had managed to get on my side, still laying down. That's when the solution came.
Scream.
But what do I say? Someone's name? Who's? How loud?
Then, common sense came.
Just flippin' scream Isabella!!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" It came out long, loud and ear piercing.

Instantly I heard much louder voices, and urgent footsteps coming my way.

"Blood and guts?" Bama's question came; anxious for an answer.

"YEEEES!!" I said, the agony clearly heard in my voice.

My dad came quickly and scooped me up in his arms. He rushed me to the nearest picnic table.
I see Bama hastily talking to a man unloading his car. I cannot make out the words they're saying. But a speedy moment later, she runs back, a large wad of napkins in her hands.

The napkins are quickly and gently set on the knee, but I ake control and put my hands on the napkins; much firmer pressure on my knee.

I look up and Phyllis is telling me all these things to do to stop the pain and bleeding. All of the instruction I actually hear and understand, I do.

I look behind me and see Bama and Papa walking very fast away from the scene. But I ignore it. Finally I lay down. Phyllis has taken a seat on the picnic bench next to me (I am laying down on the table, not the bench.

Deep breaths come out of me. Once I conrtol my breathing, I sit up. I look to my left and see Phyllis looking back into my eyes.

"How does it feel?" She asked, soothingly.

"Huh?-- Oh, fine. Still hurts a little. I'm okay." i said as reasuringly as I could.

I looked to my left, My dad was laying down on the bench, his eyes closed; he look exteremly nautious.

I choked on my tounge.
Dad got reeeealy woozy when he saw, touched or smelled blood. He even looked like he would vomit if he heard someone talk about blood!

Then I noticed we were two heads short.

"Where are Bama and Papa?" I asked aloud lazily.

"Mmmmm? O-oh, they-ugh-went-mmg-back to the HHouse to get the truck and-urg-drive you to the ho-hospital," Dad said jerkily.

Did I hear correctly?

"Umm, sorry?" I asked nervously.

"Er, they're getting the-mmrg-car s-so we CCan go to the HHospital," I could tell by his voice his stomach was churning.

'Ooooooh, crud. Er, hospital. Yikes. Ho boy! Yay!' I thought sarcasticly