I couldn’t take the abuse anymore, the beating of doing nothing and beating of trying to do something. He was the single most irritating person on this planet all he did was hassle me and bully me around. My older brother Tom and his jet black hair with his dark brown eyes and that mustache that isn’t completely there. Tom was born a trouble maker who thought of himself the best. Unlike me, who my parents said was a very shy, boring, and short child. Thinking to myself in the closet about what I’m going to do when my parents leave and keep Tom in charge of this hell-hole they call home. The only place I could go where he couldn’t hit me was the vase.
“Come out come out where ever you are,” Tom said with a slightly high pitched voice to reassure me that it’s a sanctuary out there.

I began to whimper as I heard him get closer, opening all the cupboards and closets he walked past. Trying to hold in my cry, I ran from the closet to the vase in a matter of seconds having him run right behind me, he was always the faster one no matter how much I tried to keep up he would just out run me by so much. But this time I made it, I made it to the vase where the real sanctuary was. He knew he couldn’t touch me even if he tried to pull me off I would drag it around until it would break. I was only 9 and he was 13, and for some reason he had some kind of bullying problem. When my parents got back home, I was finally free, free of all the crap he did to me and finally able to do as a I please.

“Ha mom and dad are home now you can’t touch me,” I said with a smirk on my face.

“Just wait and see little man, just wait and see,” he said with a smile that looked like it was picked out of a horror movie.

It was getting quite irritating more and more everyday, but when things got bad I would just run to the vase. One day after school my parents weren’t home and he was in the window watching, waiting for me to get inside so he can have his way. Well I was sick of it, I couldn’t take it anymore, I was going to stand up for myself and fight back for once. Walking inside he tackled me to the ground and began punching me in the stomach, I shoved him off me and ran towards him he easily threw me back to the wall and began charging at me. At that moment I threw my backpack at his face and moved out of the way so he would hit the wall, then I began wailing at his face with a barrage of fists. Although they did little to no damage I felt like all my stress that he brought me and all my pain was fading away falling into my fists and letting him get pulverized by them. After he began to push me off he started to wail all over me, in every spot he found an opening he attacked with fierce brutal fists that felt like an everlasting pain. Beginning to push him off and standing I ran to the vase as fast as possible. When I got to it he didn’t care anymore, he stripped my hands from it and once again began punching. It was as if I kept getting hit with a hammer on the face over and over. I pushed him off and picked up the vase and warned him not to touch me anymore. He charged at me with full speed and the vase went flying out of my hands. I was shocked, not at the punches my brother was throwing at me but at the vase shattering right in front of me.
My brother noticed after a while and we were both scared to death. Like all kids when our parents got home we just blamed it on each other, both of us trying to get out of this with no consequence. We both ended up in trouble and both were forced to do all the chores together for 1 month.
I don’t understand how or why it happened but after that my brother and I didn’t seem to fight as much anymore, I mean of course we had a argument here and there but other than that nothing really we actually really grew fond of each other he didn't need to hit me to get his kicks anymore we were more like "brothers" now.