Personal Narrative: Home

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"You need to calm down" said the older sibling "Why don't you just SHUT UP!" exclaimed the young boy, as their mouths ranted punches were flying through the air like bullets. It was June twenty-first My brother and I just finished doing our chores and was catching our breath so we could play some video games. With the parents out of the house and at the gym my brother and I had all the time to play video games till mom and dad get home. Just like in Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned when Socrates caught Darryl killing a chicken I too caught my brother committing a terrible act. Fighting each other, and my brother's retaliation against me always seemed to be the natural course of things when we got out of hand. We couldn't wait to grab…show more content…
I haltingly picked up the pillows and started to arrange them on the couch neatly as I could to make it as if there wasn’t a robbing that just happened in the living room. I then heard a loud “THUMP!” my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, thoughts began to cross my mind did he punch the door, break my TV, or did he injure himself. I then nervously crawled up the stairs step by step hoping he didn't do something he would regret. When I reached the top of the stairs I noticed an noise was coming through my room. I quietly tip toed to spy on him, slowly making my way across the wall to peek into the door. "CRASH!" I jumped in front of the door to find my brother's surprised face and a massacre of broken plastic on the floor. My eyes started to swell with tears, thoughts were pouring in my head why would he do this, how am I going to fix this, what did I do wrong, how could he have done this to me. I then transitioned to rage I was ready to sock his face at full power. As I started to reel back my arm, I saw my brothers face. His eyes showed me not daggers of rage but of melancholy, and his mouth not smiling but frowning. I could tell he regretted his decision. I then stood there for minutes staring at the mound of plastic then looking back at my brother. I tried to speak “---“ but nothing came out, It was total silence. “Leave” I finally said, he then slowly walked towards me and when we he walked passed me he said a soft “sorry” under his breath, then closed the door. I then dropped to my knees, my back hanging low and my arms slowly shaking while repeating "why?". I gently picked up months of hard work and slowly turned it around, touching the groves and memories engulfed me as I recalled building, painting, and showing it off to family and friends. I then gradually assessed the damage my brother did to all of my model kits. “He’s to

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