My parents and I were hiking by their house in Arizona when we came up to a mini version of Mount Rushmore. It was on a hill and about a hundred feet tall. My dad explained that the neighborhood had just installed it and that it required special expensive paint and no one was allowed to climb it. So we decided to break that rule and hike up on right side of the statues’ faces. Then I looked down at my feet to see the face-down body of a girl in a plaid in the boulders we were climbing. I screamed and jumped back and my mom and I were freaking out and were scared that we had discovered a dead body. My dad was not phased by this and said, “Oh yeah, that’s just part of the mountain.” Horrified, I began to worry that I stepped on the girl, when her head flipped around to tell me I had in fact stepped on her. She was alive and crying in pain. I apologized multiple times as she cartwheeled away from us down the mountain. Then I woke up.