What is wrong with me?

A random creative writing exercise... What is the worst thing you have ever done to someone, or had done to you. I decided to not dress it up, just throw down the facts and see how they looked, apparently they look like this.

Whenever it came up in conversation, I would always lie. I would say that it was an accident. I knew the truth of course, and I’m pretty sure they did too, otherwise why would it come up in conversation as often as it did. People don’t say things like “hey, you remember that time you were a massive prick?” unless they want you to know that they haven’t forgotten about it. That phrase, or some variation of it, seems to be the favourite theme of my mother as the years pass by. And she wonders why I don’t visit her as much as I used to do. On this specific occasion though, she was talking about the time that I pushed my little brother through a window that does not open. Now when I say through, I do not mean he hit the window and the glass broke, I mean he was outside, he was pushed, and then he was inside. Through a window that does not open.

This is the part of the story where I try to explain the situation, try and twist things around so that I can still be a good and decent guy, right? Wrong. Go back and read those first 2 sentences again. I did it. I pushed him. I’m not going to justify my actions, I’m not going to tell you whether or not he deserved it. I will tell you that he was not hurt, somehow he was not even scratched, but none of that matters. I will tell you that after I did it, I laughed. He sat there in his bedroom with his mouth open and his eyes unable to blink, surrounded by shards of glass, as I pointed and laughed like some sort of hysterical comic book villain. This was the very first time I remember hearing the words “What the fuck is wrong with you?”