This is my first time linking up to Mama Kat's writer's workshop. This prompt grabbed me. I realized I've never blogged about it before, but it was a life changing event in my childhood. I have to tell.
I am a middle child. I please people. Disappointing people hurts my heart big time. One of the biggest reasons why? Let's roll back time to when I was around 7 or 8 years old and was stuck at home with my older sister and younger brother after school waiting out the wretched witching hour until mom got home to get us something to eat.
One particular day my brother was being extremely annoying. We were playing around in the living room. He was doing his normal pestering as he stood about five feet in front of me while I was sitting in a chair. I had his play bow and arrow that had a broken tip, so it was basically a metal rod with a sharp jagged end.
"Leave me alone or I am going to shoot you with this arrow."
The pestering kept on.
I pulled back the bow threatening to shoot him when I let go. To this day I can't remember if I did it on purpose or if the excuse that my arm hit the chair was truth or not.
The arrow flew towards him. He grabbed his face. Two hands covering his eyes. He wouldn't let go. He wouldn't speak and I don't remember him crying. All I can remember is seeing him there standing in front of me covering his eyes.
"Billy, stop being stupid. Put your hands down."
"PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN!"
He did. I hit him. I hit him right in the corner of the eye in his tear duct. From what I remember the arrow was sticking out from his face and he was bleeding. I don't remember how I responded or the seconds right after it happened. I remember my sister coming into the room and freaking out. We called our neighbors since my parents weren't home yet. Someone came and called my mom and dad. I will never forget my dad walking through that door.
I didn't get a spanking.
I didn't get yelled at.
I got the stare of death. A stare that made my insides wilt. I'll never forget it.
My brother had to go through two surgeries to repair his tear duct. He was lucky to have his eye. My mom was extremely fearful of having her baby go under anesthesia, so when the surgery had to be repeated, I remember how stressful the time was and how much guilt I felt.
It didn't change my behavior toward my brother. We still fought like brother and sister only weaponless, but it put a deep fear of disappointing people in my heart. I never wanted to feel like that again. That might explain all the stress I put on myself over not letting anyone down.