I clocked my brother in the face, and it felt incredible.

I knew my fourteen year old brother had been smoking weed ever since he started high school. Peer pressure, the desire to fit in with the common crowd at the school, who knows. All I knew was that he would come home completely baked at nearly 1 am every other night, and my parents never did /anything/ about it.

Long story short, after being called paranoid and "stupid" by my family, I did a bit of digging and found his entire bug-out bag of equipment used for getting high. I didn't find any weed though; still, it was enough to convince my parents that he was smoking. Did they do anything about it? Nope. They got angry at me for snooping around in his business.

But, that's ok. I don't mind that he smokes. All I cared about, was that if he smokes, my parents know about it so that he would have someone to talk to (and that I wouldn't be called paranoid anymore).

Thing is, because he's "gotten away with it", he's also gotten away with underage drinking and a much less respectful attitude and personality towards myself and the rest of my family. In other words, he thinks that he's an adult, and if anyone confronts him about it, he gets very agitated and aggressive.

My family, my boyfriend, and I went out to a dinner with my aunt this evening. I could visibly see that my brother was baked, and he went straight to doing his best to annoy me (as I have a very short temper, and everyone, including me, knows it). Kicking my shins under the table, "picking" on me for anything I say or do...little brother stuff. Still, it fueled my anger considerably.

We were in the car on our driveway when I joked about weed, just to get under his skin, as he had been getting under mine (biting my shoulder, pinching the area directly above my knee throughout the car ride home). By this time, I was already at the brim of my anger, and was just trying to defuse the tension and get inside the house to cool off.
He took his jacket off and harshly slapped me across the back with it.

I snapped instantly. I shoved him against the car before my dad stood between us. My brother slipped into the house, muttering about how I was a b****. I heard him, and within five seconds, I had grabbed him around the collar and punched him in the side of the head. My father was /not/ happy. He threw his arm out in order to distance me from my brother, hitting me in the mouth. I tasted blood as I heard my brother call out once again about how I was a "f****** b****" before running up to his room.

I don't have a ceremonious end to this story. All I know is that though my anger and "natural" violence, I've taken some type of twisted revenge against my annoying little brother. I come here to de-escalate my anger, but the punch was a half-hour ago, and I took my anti-depressants, so I'm not angry anymore. I know that something like this will happen again though. Not sure when.

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  • Good job

  • B****

  • I may be, but he deserved it. Sounds like you do, too.

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