He begins to argue, saying that it wasn't in my eyes and that lasers have nothing to do with flashlights, it's like comparing nerf guns to real guns. I explained to him that he's quite a bit taller than me and that where his hand falls while holding up the blacklight is directly in my eyes. His reply was that he was sorry I was short.
I then told him that a person who couldn't handle a nerf gun shouldn't be allowed to own a real gun and that the same holds true with the laser. He didn't mean to shine it in my eyes, but it still hurt. He could just as easily hurt someone with a laser, but I wouldn't believe he would do it on purpose.
This is where it all goes down. He turns and looks at me, asking why I'm pointing out all of his faults on Christmas. I don't know what he's talking about, so I tell him I'm not and that I just wanted an apology. To his credit, he had apologized and I had simply forgotten. I was making lunch for Dad and me, so I was a little distracted.
With one or two steps he closed the distance between us and lowered his face so that it was in mine. He was intentionally whispering, but I could tell he wanted to yell. He was so angry, he was spitting in my face. He told me he was sick of me always starting shit and that it happened every time he was in the house with me. He was tired of me thinking I was better than him and flaunting how perfect I was. All this time he was pressing down on me; not actually touching me, but physically forcing me backwards. I was really afraid he was going to hit me.
I don't think I'm perfect. I don't think I'm better than him. I know that this morning he called me an idiot and I made a point to not reply for fear that he would take it as bragging. That's usually how these arguments start. When he came home crying about his 3.45 GPA, I told him that he made awesome grades, that he did just as well as I did my first semester at college. I made that conscious effort to let him know that he was just as good as me. So why is he still treating me this way? This summer made more sense. He was stressed and feeling unprepared for college. I was the one who had taken it by storm. But he's doing great, or so we all think. Why now?
I am so tired of the abuse. I hate feeling like a victim, and I especially hate victims who are made out to be the bad guys. I know that if I were the bad guy, I wouldn't make conscious efforts like ignoring the insults he so casually flings around or shying away from his fist.
And all of this because he held a blacklight up to my eyes. And to think that I was almost sad this was my second to last break home. Maybe I won't even come home for spring break.
