Spotted
Chapter 22

Copyright© 2020 by Olga Chinka

I can see the dog and I feel its weight on my leg as it bites down on my calf, but I’m not immobilized from the pain. Either shock or adrenaline is keeping it at bay as I struggle to get the animal off me.

With my free leg I kick the dog over and over again. Pushing as hard as I can with my foot, I try to aim for his head to make him release his grasp. He shakes his head even harder, causing more blood to trickle out.

Pulling myself towards him, I start punching his head.

“Get off me!” I scream with rage as I punch his nose and forehead. He won’t release his grasp. My only choice is to go for his eyes. I take my thumbs and ram them as hard as I can into his eye sockets.

The animal cries out as it finally releases my leg from its mouth. I keep punching it in the head, terrified that it will bite me again. Instead, it whimpers and runs across the street, leaving me in a pool of my own blood.

I let out a laugh, in complete disbelief that I had done it. I’ve never been bitten by anything and had managed to fight off a wild animal attack. Trying to balance myself, I get onto my knees, hands on the floor in front of me. I need to keep going, I need to find help.

Trying to stand up makes my leg give out from under me, and I fall back on the grass. It hurts too much to put pressure on it. I examine the wound which now has a steady flow of blood coming out of it. It’s too deep to ignore, I need to cover the opening and stop the bleeding.

The only things I can use are the clothes on me. I take off my coat and pull my sweater over my head. They’re both too bulky. I pull off my shirt next and shiver as the cold air blows on my skin.

Quickly, I pull my sweater back on and wrap my coat snuggly around myself. Pulling as hard as I can on the fabric, I manage to tear the shirt in half. Folding it to make a long cloth, I wrap it tightly around the wound and tie it off.

I have never had a bite wound and don’t know how to properly stop the bleeding. But I do know that I can’t leave a wound exposed. I check to make sure the fabric covers the whole wound and decide to give walking another chance.

Deep breath in, and up I go. Pushing off the ground, I try to balance my weight on my legs. Again, my leg gives out from under me and I fall back onto the pavement. Laying on the floor, I cry out in despair. How can I get help if I can’t walk?

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