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"Nose Picking"

Don't pick your nose, that's what my parents had taught me growing up. They'd tell me horror stories like, if you pick your nose hard enough you'll pick out your brain. Of course thinking back on that now, those stories were more hilarious than scary. Did they really expect kids to fall for that?
Of course today, just like any other day, I was doing exactly what they warned me about. I was picking my nose. I know, gross, why would I share that with you? It's vital to my story, trust me.
So there I was, picking my nose. There was an obstruction that was making it difficult to breathe through my right nostril, so there I went, unblocking my nasal passage. As I was digging around in there, I must have clipped my fingernail against the inner walls of my nose. I felt a sharp pain followed by the feeling of my nose running soon after. I tried sniffling to suck it back up but it was no use, it was already dripping from my nose and onto the table before me. Blood.
I tilted my head back, walked over and grabbed a paper towel to sop it up. It didn't take long for the blood to soak through the paper towel and I had to grab another one, this time two sheets rather than one.
I was panicked because I was doing everything you were supposed to do. I tried leaning my head back, leaning it forward, squeezing lightly on that side of my nose, hoping something would stop the bleeding. Nothing worked.
My parents were in the next room, so I made my way to them.
"My nose won't stop bleeding!" I shouted. My parents in response, jumped from the couch and made their way toward me. My dad put his hand on top of my head and pressed down lightly. His face was twisted in shock as he turned to my mom. "Honey, she's being drained." he said.
Drained?
My mom looked shocked as well, with a little bit of sadness mixed in.
"Dad, what do you mean drained?" I asked, terrified.
"Darling, when your mom and I got married we found out we couldn't have kids. So we turned to an alternative for children. You are a robot. We transfer your consciousness to a newer body every year, one that looks like you but slightly older, so that you feel like you're growing up. It looks like this model is dying. When you picked your nose you must have cut an oil line and now it's leaking. We're going to have to take you in to get fixed."
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