I kicked the hole in the door but my kid brother bravely claimed responsibility for it. He said something awful to me and he knew it. When I was young, I had been sexually abused by a baby sitter. My brother, whom by my telling probably escaped the worst of it, made the mistake of saying, during a rather heated argument about God-knows-what, probably over who would do what chore when during the summer, that I liked being abused and enjoyed the adverse attention from the baby sitter. The baby sitter was an overweight, pudgy, middle aged man with droopy glasses. He was actually technically the baby sitter’s husband but he did help in “caring” for the children. Technically, his wife was the one watching us. I was four when that happened. I was the hero because I told on him and saved my brother from having to endure the same sweet torture at his fleshy hands. The argument over chores occurred years later. I think I was just shy of twelve at the time. My brother said what he said and then immediately and with haste retreated to his room and locked the door. I think he knew I would be livid enough to do real harm. He was right. When I tried to get in his room, it was locked so I kicked the door, putting a hole in the wood at the bottom. When my dad saw the hole after a hard day at work that evening, I knew I had done something unforgivable but my brother lied and said he did it after accidentally locking himself out. I could not believe it when he spoke up like that. My dad got angry anyway but my brother took the beating without protest and thusly became my hero.