7 stitches

P.S: the bump is still on the back of my head

In my flat's narrow hall, I was messing about with the new football my dad bought me. Meandering with the football left and right, it popped into my mind to try this trick I saw it on TV. So, I did it, and, at once, I stumbled, falling with my head pointing at the sharp edge of the table beside me. I did feel nothing but sat for a while on the floor as of the impact till I felt a warm fluid crawling on my back, it didn't seize there, it reached my socks, so I knew it wasn’t just sweating, taking off the socks, it was as I hoped it not to be dark red blood. Just as I was about to yell "Mom!" she was already screaming at the sight of my back covered in blood. Before I noticed, I was taken by my dad in his Lada, still in my dinosaur pajamas, to the nearest public hospital. Still to this day, I don't know why it was called 'hospital' it was more like an abandoned warehouse but painted white from the inside. Anyway, the doctor did me some good old stitches, without even getting anesthetized, but they had this tickling impression on my skin, rather than a painful one! The rest of the day was nothing but swift glances from the car's window going home and my parents' worry-yet-relieved looks on their faces putting me to sleep.