My First Day In My Life

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One early morning thirteen years ago, my parents had gone off to go to work. I would be upstairs watching Zoboomafoo in my room and I could hear the door slam shut from my room on the second floor. It was a couple of weeks before I had started my first day in Kindergarten. My uncle Francisco, who was nineteen years old, was taking care of my little brother Luis, who was two, and I; I was five years old. Once my parents would step out the door it all began. My uncle would start acting really immature. At first, he would take us to the downstairs room that was by the kitchen and would start yelling for no reason. You could not really hear much from the room, which is why I assumed he took us there. Luis was the youngest, so he was an easy target. He didn't say much nor defended himself because he didn't really know what was happening. The yelling would frighten my little brother. My uncle would scream “ no one likes you” and “ no one cares about you” at Luis, which really hurt his feelings. Luis would just stay quiet and pout. Everything I was told as a kid a took it to heart because why wouldn't I believe the things that were told to me. As a kid, I believed everything that someone would say, I would believe if they older than me. My dad would tell me “there's a giant spider on your head” and I would believe him. It's just the trust I had an older individual, made me believe what they said was true. So when my uncle intended to hurt my brother’s feelings it would hurt
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