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Bizzare incident
When I was a college student, I experienced an unusual, one could even say absurdly tragicomic event. It all happened one lethargic afternoon in the student dormitory where I lived. As I was flat on my stomach on my bed, recovering from the previous night's party, a girl—who had also attended the party—sat on my lower back and began to massage my upper back. During the massage, I bent my legs and playfully patted her back with the soles of my feet, as if I were massaging her in return. She chuckled, found it amusing. It was a comfortable, easygoing moment.
However, while I was patting her, I felt her necklace with my toes, which she turned on her back on while massaging me so that it wouldn't bother her. The necklace had a small medallion that I inadvertently tangled between my third and fourth toes, along with a few strands of her long hair tied in a ponytail. A mischievous impulse took hold. I held onto it, not wanting to let go. She turned around, still seated on my lower back, and grasped my foot with one hand while using the other to try to untangle the chain and medallion from my toes. I laughed at her futile attempts, playfully refusing to loosen my grip, despite her pleas to let go of the chain to prevent it from breaking and how I pull her hair.
"Hey, let go!" she demanded, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "You'll break it! And you're pulling my hair!" I just laughed harder, finding her futile struggle incredibly amusing. I twitched my toes, savoring the slight tug of the chain and hair, refusing to loosen my playful grip. Her pleas only fueled my amusement. I was on a power trip, finding her frantic attempts to free her belongings from my foot utterly hilarious.
To put it mildly, she was a girl for one night. Former cheerleader and once a pole dancer in the **. She was a very cunning and skilled girl, and was one of those who drifted through college parties. I didn't particularly appreciate her, but she was... available, and sometimes that was enough. She was medium height, slim and well-built girl. Her face wasn't what you'd call pretty, save for one truly remarkable feature: her teeth. She had exceptionally burly and strong teeth. When she spread her lips in a smile, they looked like perfectly strung pearls.
My playful game came to an abrupt halt when I felt her long, sharp nails, began to scratch, not gently, but with a deliberate, unpleasant drag across toes who held the chain, then along my sole. Her sharp nails, usually neatly manicured, scratched with an almost surgical precision, raking lines of fire across my skin. My amusement vanished, replaced by a sudden jolt of apprehension, a cold prickle of fear. This wasn't playful anymore. Afraid that she would scratch my foot and toes, I immediately loosened my grip, allowing her to free the chain. I took great care of my feet, with an almost obsessive care and was proud of their appearance, especially the toes. But my big toe was a special feature: very large, nicely shaped, remarcable dominant, and significantly longer than the second toe, it possessed a distinct elegance that had garnered compliments from art directors and photographers alike. I had appeared in magazines and commercials mainly for toe-loop sandals and flip-flops on several occasions.
But the game, I realized with a sudden chill, wasn't over. Not for her.
The moment the chain was free, swiftly, unexpectedly, she seized my foot with both hands. Her grip was astonishingly strong. Before I could even register what was happening, before I could even think of pulling my foot away, she bit down on my big toe!
A crushing pain exploded through my big toe. The pain was instantaneous and excruciating, unlike anything I had ever felt It was as if a vice had clamped down and then crushed. A raw, involuntary scream tore from my throat, ripping through the quiet afternoon. I screamed at the top of my lungs, the pain so intense I felt my eyeballs bulge, threatening to pop out of their sockets. For a terrifying, blinding moment, the world dissolved into a flash of searing white. I nearly fainted, the edges of my vision tunneling into a pinpoint of agony.
In the ensuing chaos,
the bookshelf beside my bed, an old, rickety thing overloaded with textbooks, somehow dislodged from its precarious perch and struck her. The sudden impact caused her to release my toe, and I was finally able to yank my foot free.
The next thing I knew, the sterile tang of hospital disinfectant assaulted my nostrils. My head was fuzzy. Doctors, their faces grim, explained the extent of the damage. The bite, they said, had been unbelievably strong, so fierce that her teeth had penetrated deep into the bone. A severe fracture. The bone was crushed, pulverized just below the upper joint—a little more than half of the big toe. The upper part of the big toe looked almost separated.
I lay there in profound shock, terror seizing me at the realization that she had almost bitten my big toe clean off. The doctors were miraculous. They performed some intricate, delicate procedure to save my toe. “You were lucky,” . the nurse had said later with voice grave, checking my IV, “That big toe was nearly bitten off. Could have lost it for good.”
The recovery was an agonizingly long ordeal. Weeks stretched into months, filled with physical therapy, throbbing pain, and the frustrating helplessness of limited mobility. Even now, many years later, my big toe sometimes still hurts and often goes numb. Despite efforts to remove it, an ugly scar remains to this day. Because I have a large and very prominent big toe, that scar is even more clearly, and unmistakably visible, a permanent, grotesque brand.
That single, savage act ruined my fledgling career as a model for flip-flops and toe-loop sandals. It was a valuable source of pocket money during my college years, a small but steady income that had once allowed me a measure of independence.
I’ve replayed that event in my head a thousand times, sifting through every detail, every word, every look. How could a playful game turn into such a visceral act of aggression. I'm still in shock and disbelief that that girl had such strong teeth.
I am most disappointed with myself, because at no point did I even try to free my foot.
I wanted her to get a prison sentence. The police were involved, the hospital reports stark and undeniable, the gruesome photographs of my mangled toe laid bare. But her version of the story, where she conveniently omitted to say that I had released her chain before the bite, was, somehow, more believable in the eyes of the law. She painted herself as the victim, reacting defensively to my "assault" with my foot. The legal system, in its infinite wisdom, found her not responsible for the wrongdoing she did. I just spent a considerable amount of money on legal fees, trying to prove what felt so clear to me, and even risked getting a fine myself for "provoking" her.
She managed to get out of everything without any consequences.
I am convinced that the bite was not in affect, but completely calculated. The situation was ideal for her to do what she already had in mind. I'm absolutely sure she had that in her head when she was trying to untie the chain. She patiently and calculatedly waited for that I release it, and then she bit my toe.
The scar on my big toe is more than just a physical mark; it’s a daily reminder of my foolishness, her calculated cruelty, and the enduring, unfairness of how easily life can be irrevocably altered.
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