Bad Things Can Happen to Good People

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Have you ever done something you regret? Something you can’t bare the thought of? I have like everyone else, but mine follows me everywhere I go like a shadow reminding me bringing back images and pain. I will never be able to escape it only because of one little mistake I made.
I remember it clearly as if it were only yesterday. My brother and I were in our living room in our old house. I being the oldest had an impression on my brother so he did as I did. I climbed onto our couch; my brother looked up at me with a blank stare. He waddled over and tried climbing up the couch too. As he finally managed to get himself up I started jumping Chris looked at me for a second trying to figure out what exactly what I was doing. He suddenly leaped up and then smiled figuring out a game he never knew. As he took another leap his foot slipped. As if time had just slowed down I watched my brother fall what seemed like minutes. I put my hand out to him knowing that I was too far away but hoping that maybe there would be an invisible force to help me reach my hand out just a little farther. I continued to watch as his gentle head smashed against the glass table although it was probably just a bang to me it was different I heard an explosion almost like two cars had collided in with one another. I stared down at him watching the enormous amounts of blood streaming down his face. I started wailing knowing that all of this was my fault. My parents rushed into the room. My mother picked up my brother and seconds later she was out the door heading to the hospital with Chris. I was left with my dad. I went to bed that night dreading the fact I would have to face my brother the next morning. The next morning my mom walked into my room, clutching what looked like paper in her hand. She quickly glanced down and I figured my brother must be back in his bunk. I waited for my mom to start screaming at me for what I had done but instead she softly asked “How are you doing?” I was shocked why was she feeling sorry for me? I had just damaged her only son and I was getting sympathy I didn’t deserve. “Fine” I lied. I glanced down at the papers my mom was holding in her hand. As if my mom had read my mind she said “These are pictures of your brother at the hospital” she handed them over to me. As I gazed at them not able to look away I saw my brother bleeding and he was strapped down to a table as doctors were trying to help him heal. I could see the horror in his eyes and could only imagine too well his screams of agony.

Each day I wake up to my brother and seeing his permanent scar. Each day I have to deal with the fact that I did that to him. Every time he goes to the doctor’s office I have to deal with the fact that he is only afraid of doctors and needles because the unforgettable experience I gave him. If only I could erase that one mistake I had made.





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