Longsoran Tanah: Hukuman Ibu, Pelajaran Ke-16 Saya

In our family, there was a rule: the older sister had to set an example for her younger brother. So whenever my brother got into trouble, I had to pay for it. Mom said that was the only way he'd learn. Once, he smashed a window. Mom didn't say a word to him. Instead, she forced me onto my knees in the broken glass. She didn't let go until my brother sobbed in terror and promised, "I'll never break things again." For 16 long years, I was her so-called example. Then, one summer, our family went to a mountain resort—and found ourselves caught in a violent rainstorm and landslides. My brother insisted on going out of the resort with a friend he'd just met. He didn't sneak back until the middle of the night, covered in mud. Mom hurried him onto the evacuation bus. Then she turned and stared at me, her voice ice-cold. "You're not getting on. Once this landslide is over, your brother will know to come home on time." Others had been evacuated. A flash flood came roaring down the mountain, carrying mud, sand, and shattered rock. Mom, once again, you were using my life to teach him a lesson. Once again, I was your demonstration. Only this time, your "teaching aid" was going to die for real. Happy now?