My Brother’s Scar

My brother’s scar is a map of his courage. He got it climbing a tree to save a kitten, tumbling into thorns. I remember his tears, but more, his pride in the bandages: “I’m a hero now.” The scar faded, but its story didn’t. It reminds me how he’ll always leap first, even when scared. Last year, when I faced bullies, he stood beside me, voice steady: “Leave her alone.” The scar isn’t a flaw—it’s a symbol of his big heart, his willingness to fight for others. In it, I see the boy who’d share his last candy, who’d mend my broken toys, who proves that bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but acting despite it. My brother’s scar is a story I’ll always carry.

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