*****

THE YEAR WAS 1988. I remember it vividly. On that tragic night, I was playing in front of the house with my good friends. We were burning something and playfully giggling when he walked past us with his gangster-like friends.

“What are you playing with? Stop it!” he said rather fiercely. I looked at him with disgust. Out of a sudden, before I wanted to say a word, he slapped me right on my face. I was utterly in shock, tongue-tied, standing like a worn-out statue. Then, he took out his cigarette and wanted to light it using the fire that I had just made on the ground. While he was squatting and reaching the fire, I was thinking of teaching him a lesson. This is the moment, I thought. And with out-of-nowhere force, I concentrated my newly-found power and imagined pushing him into the fire and burn him to death!

Push him! Push him! Push him! Hurry up! Hurry up! The unknown evil voice kept telling me. And to my surprise, I actually did it!

PUSH!!...

For a moment, I was terribly aghast with my unexpectedly outrageous action. The sudden thought of becoming a murderer and being sentenced to death shook all my senses. But of course, he was smarter than I was. He survived. He managed to escape the fire. He stood up furiously, looking at me more monstrously. I saw him firmly swinging his right hand and, with all his might, slapped me even harder on my face.

SLAP!!...

It was two times harder that the first slap. I was helplessly sprawling on the ground. He left nonchalantly without a word. I was left with bruise, physically and emotionally. That is not the end, I was thinking. Something had to be done. Justice had to be delievered. I was adamant for a smarter, killing-me-softly revenge.

That same night, I was strategizing very hard for my next actions. I couldn’t possibly sit and watch this injustice being dumped on me like a person with no free will. I knew I could not use physical means or verbal communication since I would be likely defenseless. So, I decided to opt for subtlety by hurting him indirectly, psychologically, not physically. So, this was what I did.

In the middle of the night, while everyone was sleeping in the house, I sneaked into my brother’s room and opened his drawer. Mischievously, I took all his important documents – student’s matric card, identification card, driving license, wallets, etc. I quickly went out of the house and set them on fire! Yes! I burned them all! All of them! Every single piece was reduced into ashes. It was like my emotional burden had been lifted to unknown pleasure.

I finally did what I had always wanted to do. Revenge. Sweet revenge. The next morning, while my brother and the whole family were worried to death and frantically looking for his missing documents, I was smiling cruelly. Maliciously satisfied. He deserved it. Ha ha ha.


*****


BEFORE GOING BACK TO SABAH, my brother wanted to have a farewell dinner with me as well as my little sister studying in a university in KL. I liked the idea of it, knowing that my little sister would neutralize my cold treatment towards my brother. She is always close to my brother, unlike me. I chose a fine restaurant in Greenwood, Gombak. It was a cozy restaurant, a perfect place for a family gathering. Only this one was not so perfect. Okay, I promised to myself that I would do my best to be a bit nicer towards my brother this time around.

During dinner, my sister brought a lot of sensitive topics I would never ask my brother if we were alone. He started to reminisce the past, talking about his bitter experiences when my late mother was temporarily divorced when he was around three years old. For one rare moment, I looked at him with tender, imagining those hardship and struggle he had shared with my late mother. Then, he talked about those bad things he did to the family members.

“Some people forget when they do bad things for others, but I won’t,” he confessed quite apologetically. I wondered whether he still remembered the night when he slapped me.
He looked at me and asked, “Do you remember when I, er…, slapped you?”
I felt my heart pounding very fast. It sounded like a panting animal. I didn’t believe with what I had just heard. After 18 years! Yes, after 18 years, he brought the part that I always remember. Remember? No, I do not remember it. I “cherish” it for as long as I live.
“Of course I remember,” I finally answered, trying very hard to sound casual and indifferent.
He looked at me right into my eyes and said the words I long wanted to hear: “I am sorry.”

I was shocked and confused. Should I tell him that I burnt all his documents that very night? Oh shit, no! I didn’t want to look stupider this time. I shouldn’t be sorry now. He still deserved it. For my broken and miserable childhood, let it remain my top secret, unless he is now reading this public writing, which I do mind at all.

Because, for the first time, I finally felt that I had won over my biological brother.