Thursday, January 15, 2009

From my Wayback Memory

Sibling murderous intent.

I remember wanting to hurt him. Wanting to make him dead, wanting him to die forever. I can assume he felt the same way. The way we would tear and beat each other. From mimicked WWF moves to ninja kicks it was to dominate, to hurt to kill. But as soon as someone got hurt then hurtee was "just playing" and the hurter was the malicious one. But the hurter did feel remorse after the act, but in the moment of the attack all intent to hurt was there on both sides.

My defense was to bite and scratch. Stereotypical female response, but it work and what else did my pudgey body have against an older, more athletic brother? He never bit or scratched with intent, he used more blunt striking. Hitting my head on to the cement floor, kicking, punching, sitting and suffocating. I can't even count how many times I cried out, "I can't breathe." He usually replied, "But you can talk." But I couldn't breath mentally, I felt the gravity pulling this body into my chest and the panic of knowing soon the breathing could and would stop. He always stopped before it did.

I hated the fighting.

No comments: