The Scar

Some people have traumatic childhood experiences from which they learn how not to do things without adult supervision. While some others (who are obviously are the smarter ones) learn from the mistakes of others.

It was a very normal Thursday evening after school. My six year old brother and I were playing in the neighborhood park. As it happened that day, we were left unsupervised for those epic twenty minutes. Mom probably thought that her 11 year old daughter would be adult enough to take care of her little boy for a few minutes. And she was so wrong.

I remember seeing him trying hard to reach to the mid section of the monkey bars.

“Give it a break. You are too small to go any further”, I mocked at him. His face turned pink as he caught his breath and crossed the mid section. I could see his tiny hands struggling to catch on to those metal bars and his legs were hanging in mid air.

His eyes shifted to my direction and he said, “See?? I did it!”

After those words came out of his mouth, he fell down dramatically and I knew that I was in deep, deep trouble. I rushed towards him and saw that there was a deep cut just below his eyebrows. But it was not all the blood that bothered me.

“Why aren’t you crying?” I asked.

He was violently quiet and that terrified me. But I knew the answer to my question.

“Wait, are you not crying because I’ll make fun of you?” I asked. He looked at me, his eyes red and lips trembling.

That look made me realize how mean I had been and how my very own brother, who should be looking up to me, was feeling insecure under my very presence.

 

Now I’m 19 and my brother is 14. He has a permanent scar over his eyebrow. A scar, that would remind him not to be too bothered about other people’s opinions. A scar that would remind me that being a sister is all about being protective and not about being bossy.

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