My heart raced with excitement as I ran down the stairs and made my way to the kitchen. I will finally have a chance to play PlayStation with my brother, Pete, I thought. My mom had a strict policy about when we were allowed to play video games. My two brothers and I could only play on the weekend, and on a rare occasion, after some serious begging, she would let us play for a half hour on a school night. It had been a long week, and finally it was my turn to have the game controller in my hand. The sweet victory of surviving a week of school was my eyes on a screen of animated basketball players, and my brother, Pete, by my side. 

My mom had been in the kitchen preparing some snacks knowing Pete was having a friend over. She asked me what I was going to do while he played with his friend. “What do you mean?” I blurted out!

“Pete is having a friend over and they will most likely want to play alone,” my mom responded. I could not believe my ears! My hope faded and my dreams were dashed, but my day was about to get even worse! 

I was eight years old the first time I visited the emergency room. It happened on a warm Saturday in June when it was too hot to go outside. My brother waited by the door, excited to see his friend. I sat on the couch pondering why there’s a squirrel in SpongeBob and why Pete would not want me to play with him and his friend. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a long Ding Dong! My brother’s friend arrived. After some discussion, they decided to go into the basement to play NBA 2k on my favorite hobby. 

My heart began to race again. Although I had two brothers, I was closer in age to Pete. We played everything together. We were always shooting hoops, swinging at whiffle balls, or facing off in front of a screen. My hands began to tingle and I could feel my face redden.

I erupted with anger. “No, I’m using it!” I knew that whenever he had friends over, he never let me play and this time was going to be no different! I could feel the time with my brother slipping further and further away. 

Pete responded loudly, “No, my friend is here I get to play!” As soon as I heard those words, I knew I had to act fast.

“Not if I beat you to it,” I said, as I sped off through the front hall towards the kitchen. My heart was racing and I was thinking, I have to get there first! My desire to play was immense. The race was on. 

I had been standing closest to the kitchen and therefore, had a few steps on them. I turned around quickly and started running towards the center island. My kitchen was two rooms away from the basement stairs--the stairs that led to where our prized gaming system lived. 

Suddenly, I turned and I could see that my brother was close behind. As I sprinted past the kitchen table, the smell of mac and cheese danced in the air. My kitchen was a blur as I approached the two-step landing that led right into the family room, which made the final destination even closer. My feet pitter-pattered across the gray stone tile. I could hear my brother’s steps approaching quickly. He was gaining on me. I turned back and quickened my pace. He was not going to get there before me. I kept repeating, I got this! Just as I approached the couch, I took one more peek, he was gaining more ground, I have to speed up. My prize is so close. I could feel it and taste it. 

With the stairs within my reach, I turned back around—BAM!  

A sharp pain pierced my skull. My body shaking, I lifted my hand to feel my head. I pulled it back in front of my face to see a shiny red liquid covering my palm. It did not faze me at first, but then I realized I had hit my forehead right on the sharp corner of the brick wall that separated the family room from the back hallway where the staircase to the basement was located.  

 “Oww, Mom help!” I screamed in agony. Unknowingly, the wall had put a hole in my head. As I fell to the floor, I realized my head was bleeding. My mom rushed over to help me. 

“What happened?” she asked worriedly. 

“I ran into the wall,” I said, as the salty tears ran down my face and into my mouth. My brother and his friend ran right by me and down to the basement to play. I could not believe that Pete just ran past me with no worry at all. After all, I was his little brother and he was supposed to look out for me. His apathy towards my suffering made me sad and disappointed. I started to wail even more. 

“We have to go to the hospital,” mom said anxiously.

At this moment I was scared. It seemed like only a few seconds ago my struggle involved a PlayStation. Now I had a hole in my head and was on my way to the hospital, while my brother was at home, with his friend, playing PlayStation without me. 

The blood had stopped, but I still felt pain as I clenched my soft blue blanket that had comforted me since the day I was born. My mom had run up to my room to get it before we left for the hospital. I held on to it with all my might to ease the pain in my head and in my heart as my mom drove me to the emergency room. The ride felt endless...

Looking back on what happened that day, it seems that the competition was not only about the game, but about wanting to spend time with my brother. I looked up to Pete. We had a connection as brothers and best friends. I did not want to share him with anyone. When my brother chose to spend time with his friend, it felt like I had been betrayed. Although I blamed him at the time for causing my injury, it was my jealousy that made me run blindly into the wall. Pete later called to apologize when I was at the hospital. He said he was sorry I got hurt and that the PlayStation would be waiting for me when I got home, so we could play together. At that moment I realized that my brother cannot always be with me all of the time. I have to share him with others, but he will always be there for me in the end. Years have passed since the wall incident, but the bond between us continues to grow. I look forward to every time he comes home from college so we can play 2k together.