Mandatory 'this didn't happen today'. This happened a few years ago, when I was about 15.

Required knowledge: My school had an end of year trip every year, where you could go to a theme park, go paintballing, or take a day off. I am scared shitless of roller coasters, and I had enjoyed paintballing the year before, so I decided I'd go again with my friends. I wish I'd taken the day off.

This starts out in a weird place. I'm sat on the toilet. We had a ceramic toilet roll holder, and as I reached to wipe my arse, I knocked it of and it broke, leaving a sharp edge. This will be important later. I'm at home alone before the school trip, and I figure I should probably move it, so I leave it on the side, and continue on with getting ready.

The day starts out great. We fuck around on the bus on the way there. We get kitted up together, and divide into teams. The group of us decided to split into our year groups. We start out on a course, and I'm all good. I don't hit anyone but I have fun, and I don't get hit. The second round continues in much the same way. We move onto a course of capture the flag we had been on last year, and this is where my nightmare begins.

I should mention that I have anxiety, and at this time I hadn't gotten help for it. My anxiety decided to come out full force today. So, our team devise a plan to capture the flag. We would sneak around the side, using trees as cover, one by one. The person behind us would provide cover as we moved.

For some reason I, a complete novice, was chosen to go second. The first guy makes it across, and someone has my back, so I suck it up and start moving. I get to the second tree when the opposing team sees me. I panic, and hide behind the tree. I look back. No one is covering me and I'm a bad shot. I peek my head around, and try to aim. A pellet hits me in the head (which is an off limits area), and I spiral into a panic attack and start crying. Super manly, I know. I hear a voice above me, saying I should surrender, and I recognise it's the warden. I march off the field, tears still streaming. When I reach the camp, another warden sees the state I'm in and decides I should probably go back to base and sit the next game out.

I sit out of all of the rest of the games for the day, thankfully one warden had a chat with me then let me put my headphones in and listen to music to calm down. I'm still shaken on the way home, so I keep listening to my music, though my friends comfort me.

I get home, and I think that I should probably take a bath, because I'm dirty and sweaty, and I want to calm down a bit from my panic attack. So I start the bath running. And here the fuck up begins. I notice the smashed toilet roll holder and think to myself "I should probably tell mum about it, but I'll forget about it stupidly easy". And so I, idiot that I am, decide to leave it in the middle of the bathroom. I go back to my room to strip off, and I'm so ready for this bath. As I'm walking, I tread on something sharp. I hold my foot in pain, then look at my hand to find blood.

Cue panic. In my head, I decide the best thing to do is to put it in the water, which is fucking boiling. A mistake. I suddenly remember basic biology, and realise that the water will prevent it from clotting. And I've now burnt my foot, but that wasn't my priority. I know I need to apply pressure and raise my foot above my heart to lessen the bleeding, thanks to my Scout training and my previous experience with foot injuries. I hobble downstairs to grab kitchen roll, patches of blood smearing on the carpet. I grabbed some paper and made my way to the living room, and laid on the couch with my foot above my entire body, and tried to stop crying (again). I had grabbed the landline whilst I was getting the impromptu gauze, and dialled my mums number. She answered, sounding annoyed (as I had just called her as she was leaving work, and she isn't supposed to have her phone out). I tearily explained that my foot was bleeding badly and I kinda needed her home now. She rushed to the car and kept me on speaker.

At this point, I start to realise something. Our couch faces a large window. And I had been getting in the bath. So I was stark fucking naked, with my foot in the air, performing a weird solo Karma Sutra pose for all my elderly neighbours to marvel at. I grabbed the comforter off the couch to cover myself, and hobbled my way upstairs again.

The bath was still running so I turned it off, and I moved the blasted toilet roll holder onto the side again. I don't think I'll ever forget that fucker now. I laid down on my bed, feeling very sorry for myself, and looked at the damage. I had taken out a large chunk of my foot.

The worst thing was that I could barely put shoes on the next day because of the pain. So I walked into school in crocs, which was more embarrassing then anything that had happened the day before.

TLDR; I tried to calm down by having a bath, cut my foot open, and gave my neighbours a naked show while trying to stop the bleeding. My humiliation escalated as I had to wear crocs the next day.

EDIT: Grammar