Maybe he took pity on me because I was hyperventilating and crawling on the ceiling and had a death grip on the railings of the bed. Or maybe it was because I was hyperventilating and crying. Or hyperventilating with my eyes practically falling out of my head. Or hyperventilating.
Afterwords, I awoke with a big ol' neck brace on, and my throat was the size of a watermelon. Or not. But it was really swollen so I was forced to drink milkshakes for a few days. It's been 2 weeks now and I'm starting to feel like myself some. My throat still hurts and I sort of move like a robot but I've got a really cool scar. My story about how I got it is to say something like someone tried to jack my car and I had to fight them and got knifed in the process.
Cool scar, huh?