My First Time Stabbed, 2000, by Alexander Noiseux

From MemoryArchive

Who: Alexander Noiseux
What: My first time being stabbed
When: 2000
Where: Concord, CA

My friends and I had just left my home and were walking across the street to the park in the middle of the neighborhood. The neighborhood was one big circle with many apartments surrounding the park in the center. Most of the buildings were decaying at the time and were in disrepair, but that’s how it was in this poor neighborhood. Many of the alleys smelled of cheap alcohol and drugs, but this didn’t seem out of the ordinary to myself or my friends, this was just something we had come to get used to. The park itself wasn’t too horrible;in fact it was actually taken care of quite well, which seemed odd as the neighborhood was in such disrepair. But this too was something we were used to. As we reached the park my good friend Richard threw the soccer ball down and started to dribble it, as one would normally with a soccer ball. We played a small five man game of soccer with one goalie. The way we would play is that we would have two on one team, two on the other, and one person as goalie. We didn’t really keep score, just played to have fun.

As we were playing, a few guys from the neighborhood came up and asked us if we wanted to have a game. Our two groups didn’t get along that well, but a friendly game of soccer, or any other sport for that matter, always brought us together; even if it is just for the afternoon.

“Alright,” Richard said, “a game of soccer sounds pretty damn good right about now.” All of us agreed.

“Who is going to play goalie for us this time, I really don’t want to?” I asked my team. I was better on the offense or defense anyway, being a goalie isn’t really my thing.

“I will I guess,” my friend Byron said. “Thanks, I’m really tired of being goalie,” I said to him. “No problem,” he replied, “it isn’t the funnest position to play.”

I was the youngest on my team, playing at 10 years old. Byron was the closest in age to me, he was 11. Richard was the oldest, he was 19, and I looked up to him. My other friends were 14 and 15. The other team had players in the same range as us, maybe some younger. My team started with the ball, Richard and I were on offense, Richard took the ball all the way to the goal, he looked as if he was going to take the shot. But he then passed it to me, I was surprised.

“Take the shot,” I heard him yell. I didn’t think I would be able to, I kept saying to myself that I would miss, but I had to shoot, I had the ball. So I did, and it was a goal, my first shot in the game was a goal. The players on the other team said it was just luck and that wouldn’t happen again. They had the ball and ran it down, but Byron was the best goalie on either team so they didn’t make the shot, our defense got the ball then passed it up to me, I passed it to Richard. Richard took the shot and made a goal, we cheered. The other team is getting upset. They swapped out their goalie and then ran their plays. They took the ball down, shot, but Byron blocked, defense got the ball, then I did. I tried to take the shot, but was blocked, Richard told me not to worry about it, it happens to the best. I felt terrible though, Richard was open and ready to make the shot, and I took the shot instead, and was blocked none the less. The ball was juggled back and forth, between shots and steals, the game lasted a good forty-five minutes without a goal being made. Then the opposing team finally made a goal, they cheered, our moral slightly lowered as we were tiring. Richard carried the ball down, prepared to make a shot, but in the last second he faked them out then passed it to me. I was as surprised as the opposing team.

“Don’t think, just shoot,” I hear Richard yell, “Don’t think, just shoot!” he yells again. And I did just that, I shot and scored. The game was over; the score was 3 to 1. Not a bad score for a well played game. We were proud, the other team was a little distressed, but they were still good about losing. As good as teens are about losing anyway, they complained, but who wouldn’t. They said they wanted to have a rematch again sometime; we obliged them, like we always do.

“Maybe next time we could play baseball, or maybe football,” one of them suggested.

“Sure that sounds like fun,” we said. All seemed to be going well, but one of their players seemed to have an anger issue. And a 10 year old scoring two goals, not to mention the winning goal, didn’t seem to sit well with him. He was a 14 year old, not much taller than me. He pulled out a small pocket knife, none of us saw that. We just saw him walk over as we were talking of the win. We were happy; we had just won a well played soccer game. Sure, we probably wouldn’t be happy if we lost, but I’m sure none of us would do what this 14 year old did. I turned around to face him as he walked towards us, although I didn’t know what to expect.

He pulled his knife back then stabbed me, and thankfully it wasn’t too deep. In the confusion my 14 and 15 year old friends beat the hell out of him. His friends didn’t help, because if they did Richard would have jumped in, and I doubt that they could have taken Richard on. I was holding the wound; it was bleeding, a lot. It didn’t hurt to my surprise, it felt, kind of good actually. Who knows? Maybe I love pain. As I was holding the wound Richard told me to take my shirt off. He looked at the wound then quickly treated it to the best of his abilities with what he could work with. He ran home and got something to wrap the wound with, then suppressed the bleeding. After he treated the wound, he taught me how to treat a wound. He taught me how to stop the bleeding and how to clean it.

After that incident he taught me how to defend myself using knives, as well as my own fists. And he made sure that I remembered my first aid. I was never scared during that whole experience, in fact, I was quite excited. I didn’t cry because I was stabbed, I just got more of an adrenaline boost than I ever have before that. I will say being stabbed wasn’t fun, but it didn’t hurt at all, well, at least not that bad. My first time being stabbed was one of the most exciting moments I have ever had. I can’t say that I am glad that I was stabbed, but it prepared me for the many more injuries that I would sustain to this day, including being stabbed again.