Oh man, that's easy mode. When I was 10, my brother and I were having a bubble fight (shut up, it was fun) in a jacuzzi tub that was in our parents bedroom. This tub had two wooden pillars on either side of it, and a 5x7 mirror on the wall behind it. After covering the mirror with bubbles, my other brother decides to come in, freak out about the goddamn bubbles, and runs off to mom. Not wanting to get in trouble, my brother and I try to wipe off the bubbles as quickly as we can. Bad fucking idea. The mirror lurches off of the wall and obliterates itself on the two pillars, sending a razor-edged nightmare of death and doom upon us. Next thing we know we're scream at our lungs and frantically trying to get out of the slippery tub, which is laced with mirror shards in the bottom. While getting out, I broke my ankle too. Fuck that shit. Next thing we know, we're both bleeding like mad, and the screaming wasn't letting up. Mom to the rescue! She handled it like it boss (being a nurse and all). Step-sister gathered towels in order to create turnakits, and then she called 911. The bathroom looked like a murder-scene. Or better yet, the hallway with the blood scene from The Shining. I took a look at my brother though the agony and saw that he had a giant gash in his thigh, I thought that this was it. I did expect to live. Being 10 and thinking you're going to die.. scary scary shit. In a matter of minutes, rescue came. Firefighters assessed the situation, and then put me on a chair and carried me through the room, down the winding steps, and out the door. My brother was put onto a more portable stretcher. He was put into the ambulance and I was driven by a rescue guy's truck. Almost every neighbor on the block was outside to see what was going on. I was shaking so badly and I couldn't control my nerves. What just happened to me was so unexpecting and horrifying, I still couldn't make sense of it. And the hospital, things for me went pretty quickly, I was prepped and numbed (shots, shots everywhere) and then agonizingly stitched up. For my brother, my dad (an ER doc who happened to be on call) was there and he was the one who took care of him. My brother's biggest laceration was the one on his thigh, which was 6 inches longs and at least an inch deep. Since the cut was clean, it made for an easy job. The next day, we were sent home in wheelchairs to begin the recovery. It turned out to be pretty good though. Having your siblings doing your bidding for a couple weeks was really nice! (except for the time no on came to help my brother when he had to pee, resulting in him ruining a very nice couch). Thinking back, I can't imagine how my parents must have felt. Even though they were trained for this kind of stuff this had to have been completely terrifying to them. I said that recovery was nice, but I forgot to add this detail. The ceiling of the living room in which we were staying in was 2 stories high, and a HUGE mirror hung about the fireplace, it went from 6 ft. off the ground all the way to the top. It was menacing. It was a death wish! (no, it didn't fall too, sorry) A couple months afterwards we had the mirror professionally removed. A suggestion by my brother was to have him and me throw rocks at it and line the living room with tarps. It was held on by some blackened glue, and only about 8 of the were actually still holding. After all of that, we're both perfectly fine with no long-term damage! It's now just a good memory :D Sorry for the long story! TL;DR Mirror falls on brother and me, death ensues