Growing up, my little sister and I never really got along very well. We would fight about anything. What to watch on TV, who got to use the computer, bathroom time-basically you name it and we fought about it. Usually the fights didn't get too out of hand, but there were the occasional instances when objects were hurled at the others head. More often than not, the fights would end in a screaming match, then my mom trying to break it up, and finally with one of us in trouble, that was usually me.
             The worst fight my sister and I ever got into was when I was 1 and we were at my grandma's house. I was in the room reading on the bottom bunk bed and my sister was playing on the top bunk. My sister decided she wanted to reenact her own version of the story the boy who cried wolf. She would lean over the edge and pretend that she was falling. I would stop reading to jump up to help her, but she would just start laughing at me because she wasn't really falling. This continued for a while and being the gullible 12-year-old I was, I kept jumping up to help her. Each time, being the bratty 9-year-old she was, she just ended up laughing in my face. The next time she leaned over pretending to fall, I decided to grab her arm and give it a little tug. Next thing I know my sister is on the ground screaming. I felt horrible the instant she hit the ground.
             Somehow, she got up and grabbed the closest thing in her reach, a glass doll, and started beating me with it. The doll broke on my shin and blood gushed everywhere. My grandma finally came in to see what all the commotion was about and rushed us both to the hospital. I was gushing blood out of my leg and my sister couldn't move her left arm. When we left the hospital my sister was in a brace for a broken collarbone and I had 4 stitches in my leg. After that, my sister's sole purpose was to get me in trouble for ruining her summer.
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