I didn’t like her

…for a few years.

There was a time when I thought
she was ok company. But then
she realised the power she had and took
advantage of getting me into trouble
with it. When you’re not
a trouble-maker, getting punished for
other people’s plots tastes like
bile. The selfish, scheming brat.

 

So I didn’t like her for a few years.

I cringe at my use of the word
‘hate’, it happened
several times.

 

I couldn’t hit her in revenge
either. So I refined my verbal
arsenal, and I used it
mercilessly.

One day, I barrelled
several fist-sized holes into
that little body and left the
room. But then I came back for
something and I caught her
crying silently.

 

That was the day I
realised that she was a human
being

with feelings

and capable
of hurt.

And that I was capable
of hurting her. Those tear-filled
hazel eyes still haunt me
to this day.

 

I didn’t understand her and
her reactions for many
years after that. But I wouldn’t
be surprised if much of it was
battle scars from when her
sister didn’t like her.

 

I hope those wounds are
healed now. I hope the
scars have faded into such
thin lines that she has
to search to find them.

And if she finds them, I
hope it is with a
smile at the ridiculous
kids we were.