“Give it back!”
Scrooge had just unwrapped his biggest christmas, and now he was gripping it tight, struggling to hold on to it as his brother tugged it back and forth between them. He was well aware that his father had only bought it for him in an attempt to buy his love, but he didn’t care. He never wanted anyone else to have it. And he certainly didn’t want to share it with his older brother, because he knew for a fact that if he ever did, he’d never see it again.
“No!” his brother spat.
“Dad! Make him stop!” cried Scrooge.
“Now, now, son, if he wants to borrow it, you should be a good little brother and let him.”
“But dad –”
“No buts,” he said. He pulled his hand off his own present, allowing just enough so that his brother could finally pull his present from his hands.
By the time Scrooge was nine, it was a well-known fact that that toy train had always been his brother’s. Scrooge never quite stopped hating his family for it.
“I hate you, I hate you!”
“Now, now, son,” his father said. “If Santa got you coal for Christmas, it’s only because he knows what a bad boy you’ve been this year. Just think of all the things you’ve done to your poor brother.”
“It’s not fair! I hate you!”
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