My brother and I were in total war. He wanted to destroy me; I wanted to annihilate him. He wanted to make me pay; I wanted to make him cry. Why would two brothers, a year apart, be fighting? Because of a bionicle. A single action figure. The coolest toy in our eyes at the ages of 6 and 7. I was the oldest. Which was the same thing I said to my mother when she told my brother and I that she was going to buy a bionicle. A SINGLE bionicle. I believed at that age that being the oldest of your siblings gave you total power over them – apparently not. So here I am facing my brother eye to eye outside the house. We were trying to settle things “peacefully” as to our mother’s words.
“It’s mine.” I simply said.
“You’re stupid!” he retorted.
“I’m older than you so listen to what I say!”
“You’re stupid!” he repeats.
“That doesn’t make sense!”
“Cause you’re stupid!” again he yells.
“ARHGGGG!” I rage out loud.

Immediately after my scream of frustration I charged forward like a bull in a forest full of red. With my arms flailing around me, I aim for his chubby little body. With full intention of bringing pain on to him I continue on. “Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” sounds of tears begin to crowd the air. My mother comes out almost immediately to find out what’s with the entire ruckus. What she saw was a complete shock to her. There I was, lying on the grass flat, crying. Hand over my cheek, covering blood that began to ooze out. Everything went by so quickly I failed to realize what really happened. I slowly remembered, as my mother helped me inside, that as I was violently running towards my brother, I tripped on little hole in the ground. I fell, and then I hit my head, my cheek specifically, and began to cry. Inside, my mother sat me on the couch in the living room. She told me she was going to get some bandages. I wait patiently, enduring the pain. My brother slowly walks over to me with a Grinch-like grin. “You’re stupid.”