"Why did you take my board game again!?" I shouted irritatedly with my arms akimbo. That day, I was bored to tears after hours poring over the dictionary for a homework assignment. In need of a distraction, I rummaged amongst the towering stack of toys I had accumulated over the years atop my bookshelf, in search of my favourite board game. Just when I was about to give up, I spotted my brother from the corner of my eye. He was placing the board game, Risk, on his shelf!
"I should have known it was you! Return it right now or else!" I screamed, rage pulsing through my veins.
"Where is your proof? How do you know I took your things, you useless slob?" My brother shot back at me with a smug smirk.
Sparing one last hateful look at my annoying brother, I decided not to waste a single second more on that thief. I stormed off to the study room and slammed the door forcefully.
"Finally! Free of that beast of a person!" I thought meanly to myself. My eyes landed on the family photos adorning the walls. The bright and cheerful colours caught my eye but did nothing to soothe my temper. Instead, the sight of my brother's goofy poses increasingly irritated me. I knew what I had to do. I snatched up the pair of scissors lying innocently on the table and with shaking hands, I removed the photographs from their frames. These were the first photos we had taken in our new home. In anger, I crinkled them up and began snipping out the heads of my brother. After ripping the cut-out heads into multiple pieces, I shredded them into strips and scrunched them all together in a ball.
"What do you think you're doing?!" My mother suddenly questioned me in a loud, booming voice. She rushed over to me and confiscated the remaining photographs so that I could not do any further damage. Her words snapped me out of my unreasonable anger. I stared at the photos that were now ruined beyond recognition. Mother grabbed the scissors from my hands and stood still, waiting for an answer that I could not give.
As the anger faded, I felt a knot twist in my chest. I deeply regretted what I had done. Knowing I had no excuse to defend my terrible actions, I trudged into the room that my brother and I shared and quietly mumbled my most sincere apologies. I conceded that I had cut his photos up in a fit of rage and begged to be forgiven. Thankfully, my brother did. That day, I learnt a hard lesson: to always think before I act.
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