Your help

Torn

Torn Apart

I awoke from my deep sleep at about noon on February 10th, 2013. Certain in the familiar feeling in my gut; I knew that today was a day of sleepovers. My owner Gabby and I always attended posh pajama parties as partners in crime and today was no exception. It is well known amongst my friends that I am a Party Animal. What can I say? I like to party, but I love pillow fights even more. Always concerned about my well-being, people constantly blame Gabby for mistreating me, and several have even threatened to contact Animal Welfare, but I truly enjoy the times that we share conquering pillows all over the city. I have been raised by Gabby with the belief that in any party, you must go crazy, or you must go home. Live life to the fullest or "YOLO". You know how it is. Green with envy, Alligator, Snake, and some of my other friends can hardly suppress their amazement of my freedom. Why they got to be so jelly? I can't help that I party like a crazed duck. Needless to say, I am infamous for my sleepover antics.

After Gabby and I packed our matching bags, we were on our way to the party. What I didn't know was that this sleepover would change me forever. Not much time passed before I was at the sleepover; the party duck inside of me was exploding with joy, just dreaming of the pillow fight that certainly would come. What most do not understand is that there is an art to pillow fighting. It is not just absent mindedly swinging at one another, but rather, it involves deep mental concentration from both the pillow and the wrist slinger. Ever since I was just a duckling in a box, I knew that someday, I would make a name for myself in the pillow fighting industry; I would go down in history. It is not just the fun of the fights that motivate me; it is the impact of another pillow, the sounds of my victory, and of the defeat of my opponents. I had never lost a fight until that sleep over on February 10th. I was fighting Eunis the Unicorn, who is known for playing dirty. All was well for me in the first half of the war, but during halftime, Eunis was up to her old tricks. When I took a water break, something felt off, but I couldn't place my wing on it. I heard a spiteful whiny, felt a sharp stabbing sensation, and I crumpled into a ball on the floor. Everything went black. The first time I opened my eyes, I didn't recognize my surroundings: blinding lights, white walls, and two pairs of nervous eyes. I tried to get up, but a sharp pain erupted in my side. I lie back down and felt a slight poke at my side, and I noticed a worried Gabrielle with her sister Angela standing next to me, "Give it the gas; we don't want this to hurt the poor fellow." Angela said. "He's already been through so much."

I received some kind of gas and slowly drifted into a medicated sleep. I had been woken up, and my eyes were fixated on the doctor as he explained what had happened. Eunis's horn had gone straight through my chest and I had many other stab wounds scattered randomly across my frail body. I was lucky I didn't have a heart or other organs otherwise my wounds could have killed me. The doctor prescribed 6 months of rehab and told me that I was never going to fight again due to my newfound disability. On the ride home, hushed voices discussed my fate as I tried to soak in the fact that I couldn't fight again. Memories of friends in situations similar to mine had been taken away, never to be seen again. What was so special about me? Why did they take me to the doctor? Why not get rid of me and my mangled body? Something about me was different than everyone else. I was strong. I am strong. Every day, I look upon my battle scars and remember February 10th. Not the fight with Eunice, but the compassion and love I was shown by my amazing owner Gabrielle and her mediocre sister Angela. My scars, both physical and mental, have made me who I am today, and even though I have not fought again since that day, I have been able to discover myself. If I could go back to February 10th, would I change anything? No.