Comhroinn Fuaime

I was 11, and my older brother was 16. We fought a lot like siblings do — arguments, chasing each other around the house, the usual chaos. But one day, things crossed a line. I was running up the stairs trying to get away from him when he hit me on the back of my legs with a long rubber chew toy. It left a painful, figure-eight shaped mark that really stung.