I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me. I wanted to buy a handkerchief, which all girls around me seemed to have. So, one day I stole 50 cents from my father's drawer. Father had discovered about the stolen money right away. He made me and my younger brother kneel against the wall as he held a bamboo stick in his hand. 'Who stole the money?' he asked. I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Neither of us admitted to the fault, so he said, 'Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!' He lifted up the bamboo stick.
Suddenly, my younger brother gripped father's hand and said, Dad, I was the one who did it!' The long stick smacked my brother's back repeatedly. Father was so angry that he kept on whipping my brother until he lost his breath. After that, he sat down on our stone bed and scolded my brother, 'You have learned to steal from your own house now. What other embarrassing things will you are possibly doing in the future? You should be beaten to death, you shameless thief!' That night, my mother and I hugged my brother.
His body was full of wounds from the beating but he never shed a single tear. In the middle of the night, all of sudden, I cried out loudly. My brother covered my mouth with his little hand and said, Sis, now don't cry anymore. Everything has happened.' I still hate myself for not having enough courage to admit what I did. Years went by, but the incident still seemed like it just happened yesterday. I will never forget my brother's expression when he protected me. That year, my brother was 8 years old and I was 11 years old. When my brother was in his last year of secondary school, he was accepted in an upper secondary school in the central. At the same time, I was accepted into a university in the province. That night, father squatted in the yard, smoking, packet by packet.
