It was a hot summer day. I was sitting in the dining room. My sister, Amee, was at the typewriter (this was before computers came along) and she was wearing an open-backed swimsuit and shorts. That was her normal attire for summer.
Well, she was typing along, minding her own business. I, however, was looking at her smooth, mocha-colored, inviting back-skin. I stared at it for awhile, but the urge overtook me. I walked up and whacked her right square in the back with my open hand, as hard as I possibly could. The sound rang through the trailer.
Amee immediately arched her back in horror and gave out a shriek that could be heard around the world. She started to cry--I think she cried because she wanted to get me in trouble--but she said it burned with a fiery rage.
So realizing what I had just done I, too, started to cry (for fear of our Mother) and I ran and hid. Honestly I didn't know it would hurt her THAT bad. I was grounded for a week and Mom took my cowboy boots away (that hurt).
I don't regret it, but rather remember it with sweet satisfaction. For all the mean things she would do to me in the future, that one memory made it all worthwhile.
It was preemptive revenge...."Prevenge" if you will.
Laura 
Amber
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