Confession of A Little Sister

It was the twenty-third of December, 1997 at my aunt’s house for the Christmas holiday.  All of the family on my mom’s side (the serious group) was there: my pre-divorced parents, my aunt and her husband, my grandparents, and my brother, the culprit in this confession.  As children tend to do, my brother and I played while the elders cooked us dinner.  However, these fun and games never lasted with the two of us, as one always tended to get mean and one or the other injured.  And this is precisely what happened.  My brother provoked me and I got mean, but it was he who deserved what he got.  And so thus, I hit him on the arm with all the power I could muster.  And it did hurt him.  As always happens, he retaliated and I ran from him.  I ran as fast as I could because he would hurt me ten times worse than I hurt him.  So I ran downstairs, yelling to my parents for help in genuine fear, through the dining room.  It was past my anal aunt’s giant china-cabinet that I ran to the sound of crashing glass.  The floor was shaky in this old house and my fervent running had shaken the cabinet and broken some of my aunt’s most-prized possessions.  Oops…  My brother was close behind and as any younger sister would do, I blamed him (though not totally unrightfully, as he was chasing me…).  My parents and aunt thus proceeded to yell and punish him for his shenanigans and it was not pleasant.  He silently took the blame, but later unleashed his havoc on me, rightfully.  To this day, they still tease him about it and I can tell my aunt will never fully forgive him.  And to this, to my aunt and parents, I confess: that it was I who broke the china-cabinet possessions, not my brother, and now years later take the blame.