Short Story Of Suffering

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Like most stories of youthful pain and suffering, my story begins at Walmart with my mother and brother. As is typical for two children, my brother and I were roughhousing and aimlessly meandering around the store because we were bored. Strongly, my mother demanded we stop multiple times, but neither of us listened to her. Looking back, I wish I had listened to her. When our trip had almost come to an end, we were playing cops-and-robbers in the deli, and my brother clutched my hands behind my back to “arrest” me. I attempted a pulling escape, but he thrust me forward at the same time; I fell flat on my face on the hard-concrete floor. My mother rushed me to the emergency room because she assumed I had broken my nose. Luckily, the x-rays revealed
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