The Memory I Wish I Could Erase

November 8, 2012
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Many years ago when I was about fourteen years old, I did something I wish I could take back. Marlon, who is my older brother, and I were just messing around at home like we always do until one of my friends came over to hang out with me. Marlon is known to be a bully to me when I am not at school. Despite his harassment, our parents taught us never to show violence out of anger.

One day while my friend and I were outside playing a game, Marlon thought it would be a good idea to play around and tease my friend. My brother’s jokes were getting out of hand, so I told my mother about how my brother was acting. She eventually took care of it for the day.
The next weekend, my friend came over again to hang out and intended to spend the night at my house. Again my brother came up with new ideas to mess with my friend. While my friend and I played an adventure game with fake plastic swords, my brother came along and ruined it with stupid remarks and questions. Marlon even flung my friend off the trampoline when we allowed him to play with us. I began to get very frustrated and angry at my brother for acting this way towards a guest.

My friend tried to ignore my brother and avoid him as much as he could, but Marlon would not leave him alone. I eventually spoke out against my brother outside in the back yard and told him to back off. My brother started to laugh and criticize the way we were acting. After that I couldn’t take it anymore. I closed my hand into a fist while my brother was not looking and jammed my fist into his face. I heard a small crack from his nose as I drew my hand back. He was shocked and angry at the same time. Fear struck me when he looked at me with those eyes as if he was going to punch me back. Blood started to run down his face, so he pushed me aside and ran inside the house to get his nose cleaned up or see if it was broken. I was yelled at by my parents and isolated in my room for the next three hours. My dad ended up taking my friend back home because of my punishment. I didn’t think it was fair because I was only trying to stand up for my friend and make Marlon go away. It did feel pretty good at the beginning of my punishment because I finally stood up to my older brother for all of the harassment I suffered. I guess someone could say that it was some sort of revenge, but I thought that he deserved it. He did make fun of my friend, after all.

As my anger began to disappear, I started to feel a little bit guilty and ashamed for what I did. I wondered how my brother felt and if he would ever forgive me after that awful incident. The door to my room slowly opened and my stomach had butterflies. I knew that I was going to be punished, but still I had a little bit of hope that I could get out of it if I just told them what happened.

When the door opened, a displeased look on my mother’s face made all the thoughts in my head quickly turn to regret. She sat down on my bed beside me and asked why I hit my brother. As I tried to speak, my mouth became dry, and I lost the words to say. I eventually began to cry, knowing that what I did was wrong and it was not how I was raised. My mom told my brother to come into the room because she knew he was listening. I apologized to my brother, saying that it was a mistake to hit him, and I would never do it again. He accepted my apology even though I could tell that he was only saying it because he had to. I agreed to my punishment, which I thought was little harsh, and my brother became a little bit more responsible and understanding.
Now, if I have a problem, I try to solve it with calm words and a solution. I could also go and find an adult because I know that violence can never solve anything.

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