perhapsevil

I was reading a thread about fighting, I don't feel that there is any glory in pummeling another person. It's sad. The thread reminded me of the fights i've had with my sister when we were 14 & 15 and shared a room. The tension in that room was so great, I had to watch my back all the time becasue i didn't know what would start a fight. My sister was the pestering type, if I was doing my homework or reading a book she would do everything to get my attention away from it, she'd sit there and throw things at me, knowingly provoking a fight as if she loved it. I was living with the bully that kicks your heels all the way home from school and I was the liitle twirp that would take it until I couldn't take it any longer. It's so frustrating that all I wanted was for the fighting to stop, How do you stop violence with more violence? I don't know how badly I hurt her when we fought, I'd try to pin her down, sometimes holding her down for 45 minutes to an hour, her cursing me all the while. I'd let her up and she'd come back in a scratching, swinging fury once more. Our fights stopped only when another family member was fed up and broke it up. Many fights occurred when i got out of the shower or while I was dressing I'd be fighting her half naked when someone walked in, and then she'd laugh. I've had my face smashed repeatedly into the dresser. The swollen bleeding face in the mirror wasn't real to me. The worst part wasn't the words or the pain, it was the way she laughed at me and at my pain and embarrassment. It was cruel. Afterwards, everytime, I'd cry, for hours. I didn't want to hurt her , but she made it so that I didn't have a choice. Why did she hate me so much? My father never said a word about what went on doesn't deal with situations, he ignores them, he wanted to talk to me one day after such a fight. I struggling not to, but I cried and he knew why. My sister went and lived with our older sister for a year and I didn't talk to her at all. She ran away from my sister's house and went to Mississippi . She was picked up by the police and forced to come home , by this time my brother wasn't living at home so she got her own room. We were two stranger s living under the same roof. If she entered a room I'd leave it. This lasted for some months until she wrote a note and slipped it under my door apologizing for everything that she had done to me and she "knew'" how awful she had been, but she didn't tell me why. And then we were best friends again. We are still, but I've never asked her what she was feeling at that time.