The day after my thirteenth birthday, father told me that Tom would be coming to stay with us for the summer.
Tom was my step-brother, and I hated his guts. I’d not seen him in nearly three years, not since the cupboard debacle.
The incident had surprised and upset my father at the time. What he didn’t know was that, for as long as I could remember, Tom had made a sport of tormenting me.
No, he certainly failed to display any brotherly feelings whatsoever.
Had I known then what I’ve since found out, his despotism would’ve surprised me even less…