It started the way it always started. An argument. I don't remember what it was over, specifically, but it was an argument nevertheless. My sister and I exchanged heated words, and when I couldn't get my way, I resorted to brute force. I punched her. In shock–mouth ajar and Bianca lightly touching the new bruise forming on her arm–she let out a good scream. Tears formed and she continued screaming. I jumped toward her and covered her mouth with my grimy hands. Then begged her to shut up. Pleasepleaseplease shut up. Shutupshutupshutup.

Bianca pried herself away from my grasp and ran to tell my father. A few minutes later, he marched back into our bedroom. He asked if I punched her. I nodded. My dad then pulled off his belt–in a single, swift motion, looking very Zoro-ish–and spanked me. Hard. Then he did something completely unexpected. My father spanked Bianca too.

He quietly walked out of the room, leaving us crying. Together. I felt awful seeing my sister punished for my transgression I reached out and hugged her. I apologized and said I'd never punch her again.

Strangely, my father taught me a huge lesson that day. Namely, don't punch your sister. But I also learned to never hurt my sister and do whatever I could to help her. I'm happy to say that I've stayed true to this promise. Today, my twin sister is getting married and my plan is, still, to help in every way possible. I'm beyond thrilled for her and can't wait to prove to my dad his Zoro belt skills didn't go to waste.