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Day 70 of 100

Tight close-up of a bearded man in a dark cap and blue-framed glasses, staring directly into the lens against a blue backdrop.
Day 70 / 100 Weight 353.5 Weary Sony A7R5 50mm f/1.4 1/125 ISO200

“If you don’t put this on your face, I won’t serve you.”

It started like any other night in college. We gathered in my dorm and started pre-gaming and had all plans on heading out to a party in Sacramento.

My friend’s father was a house flipper and would let his son throw parties in the houses before they stripped them down and refurbished them. This was going to be an amazing time.

We were all pretty drunk by the time we got to the party. It was packed with people of all stripes, and as the night wore on I found myself playing dice with some legitimate gang members. About an hour into the game gunshots sounded from outside and everyone started to run.

“Let’s go!” yelled my friends, and away we went.

I stopped. One of the women we came with was nowhere to be found. “Patricia isn’t here!” I said and ran back to the house.

I was looking at some people that were inside the house through a plate glass window when I heard someone come up behind me. I turned to look, but before I could come completely around, a hand grabbed my head and slammed it into the window.

Glass exploded everywhere, and I fell to one knee. Luckily, someone said something that must have scared them off, because they ran as I was pulled into the house and a bag of ice was put on my now bleeding face.

It was late, probably 2am, and I had planned on taking the train home the next day. I didn’t want to go home just yet. “I’m hungry,” I muttered. So we went to Denny’s. As I sat there, the waitress came over and said, “I will not serve you unless you put this bag of ice on your face.” Which I did.

About an hour later the blood had still not stopped, so we decided to go to the ER. “Looks like stitches,” said the nurse. “Can’t I just use a bandaid,” I replied as she gave me a shot directly in the wound.

It was probably about 4am at this point, and I knew that my mom would be worried, so I called her. “Hi mom, my head went through a plate glass window and I got some stitches. See you in the morning!”

I never said I was smart, and needless to say, my mom wasn’t that excited to see me when I finally arrived.

The scar over my eye is still there to this day.