I hated what he did to me, but I wasn’t allowed to fight my little brother
The basement in my childhood home had a dirt floor and it was spooky. There was one naked lightbulb that served to light the entire basement. Mom had her washer and dryer down there, and the furnace was down there. Whenever the furnace turned on, there would be a creepy red glow in that area of the basement, and shadows were deep. I swore there had to be a monster there. Mom never asked me to go to the basement, because she knew I was scared. My dad played on those fears and he forced me to go to the basement every chance he could. He knew how afraid I was, even when he told me he was going to show me how to change the air filter in the furnace. I didn’t want to go into the basement, let alone need to go near the furnace. He stood with me the entire time I was learning how to change the air filter, then he said I was on my own. My brother was the town bully and it wasn’t saved for the other kids. He bullied me more than he bullied the other kids. Whenever I had to go to the basement, my brother would hide somewhere. He would jump out at me and yell boo, or he would try to grab my ankle as I walked down the steps. I hated what he did to me, but I wasn’t allowed to fight my little brother. I couldn’t believe that the time I fell down the steps, I got into trouble. I didn’t change the air filter in the furnace that day, and my dad was really upset.