Ever had a traumatic incident that just changes your life? Create new fears like knives, bikes or cars? How about never trusting when someone say “I’ll get you an ice cream. I promise.” and then nothing, not even a good job or you’re so courageous?

It was several weeks after I settled in my aunt’s home and several weeks before school started, my aunt, uncle, cousin, and I went to a department store to shop. I was put in charge of babysitting my 5-year-old cousin who cannot sit still for 5 minutes at  a time.

Right after my aunt and uncle left, my cousin was up, set, and running. You should probably know that this is China and people are standing everywhere so it is very hard to follow a running 5-year-old around a large department store. Anyway, I lost him and my heart began to pound frantically as I searched every aisles, nooks and crannies looking for him.

I was subconsciously aware I had arrived in the knives section and what’s worse, my cousin had been hiding on the bottom shelf the whole time! Yes, the shelves, especially the bottom shelf was ridiculously wide that it can fit a person. Anyway, he was hiding there and I did not know it at all.

I placed my right hand on the middle shelf while my left dangled as I tried to catch my breath. Then people around me started gasping and screaming, some ladies even fainted dramatically into their husband’s or boyfriend’s arms. Everyone was pointing at me.

I looked down and saw a puddle of blood and almost did a double take. At first, I was worried that it was my cousin. Oh no, aunt’s going to kill me, a panicky thought came into my brain but the blood wasn’t coming from my cousin, it was coming from me. My left hand was drenched in blood. It turned out my sneaky cousin grabbed a large cleaver on the bottom shelf and snipped my finger, right between the pinkie and the ring finger. I know it’s him because he was holding the knife.

Now I was panicking even though I strangely didn’t feel any pain. My aunt and uncle came around the aisle and quickly wrapped my hand in my T-shirt as we rushed out the store to the hospital next building over. There, my uncle accompanied me into the room where I got 3 stitches while my aunt waited outside (aunt faints at the sight of blood but she was brave).

While I got the stitches, I gasped and moaned at the pain of having half of my finger sew back on by a shaky doctor. My uncle kept saying “it’s almost done” and promised me that we’d go get Pizza Hut afterwards.

It was a long time before it was done. After the doctor wrapped my hand thick in gauze and bandages, we went straight home. No pizza, nothing. He didn’t even say anything like good job. Did he think I’d forget? Was he just playing nice? I don’t know but a promise is a promise, I’m sure he was taught that at some point.

Later though, I was kind of glad we never went to Pizza Hut that day. China’s Pizza Hut completely ruined pizza for me. The pizza is inedible. It’s like forcing your teeth through a piece of rubber. I didn’t eat pizza again again until I came to the United States where I found out just how good pizzas really are.

Anyway, off the point, after this incident, not only did I never used a knife again, I developed a new fear for knives. Well, until the past year or two, when I felt a sudden courage to overcome my fear.

When my mom asked my cousin about the incident two years ago, he said he doesn’t remember. She even showed him my scar. I think he’s either too ashamed, truly doesn’t remember, or somebody framed him. I guess we’ll never know.