"Can Somebody PLEASE Help Me?!?!"

Ashley Marie Mohler. My sister. Ever since birth, she has always beat me. Whether it was a pound heavier, or how cute she was, she was always winning. I would never expect that she would continue beating me throughout life.

About two months ago, Ashley discovered the ability to take me down within 0.4 seconds. Sometimes she will use it just to show off in front of her friends, or she will just push me down to make a point. When I see her coming, my body freezes, and I just drop to the floor. Yes, I am a baby, but, she can really hurt somebody. If you don't believe me, you let me know and I will arrange a fight between you and Ashley.

Today, when we got home from school, my mom called asking me to take out some chicken for dinner. As the phone was snug between my ear and my shoulder, and my hands in the freezer, she decided to attack. She grabbed the chicken bag from me and started to hit me with it. At first, I was laughing because, well, I was getting hit with a bag of chicken. That just sounds funny to me. After the third swing, I started to feel the pain. I tried to make the insanity stop, but she set down the chicken, pushed me down, and dragged me across our kitchen floor into the battle arena. (AKA, the living room)

She started with the same old moves, pushing me down, grabbing my arms, and repeating "Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?" I know why, because you are HITTING ME WITH THEM! What a foolish question! After the childish games, she goes into Sumo Wrestler Mode. She jumps on me, and pulls my hands behind my back. Sometimes, I feel like I am getting arrested.

Tonight, as we were all sitting in the living room talking, Ashley started to approach me. I looked to my left to see if my mom could see the fear in my eyes, but she was too busy typing. Then, I looked to my right to do the same for my dad. He saw me, and he knew I was frightened, but he knew what was going on. Ashley got inches away from me and too a dramatic pause, **Dramatic Pause**,. She grabbed my foot, and started to pull. I fell off the couch, and onto the floor. She dragged me to the center of the room so everyone could see. She got on top of me, and began to hurt me.

I waited to see if my mom or dad would stop the madness, but they were just laughing. " Can somebody PLEAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE help me?!?!?!? Anyone!!! Please, she IS HURTING ME!" She pounced again. "PLEASSSE!!!! I am begging you!!" No reply, followed by no help. She started slapping my face with my hands, so I took advantage of the time and tried to roll her over. After a few times, it worked! I was in awe. When I got on top of her, I played the same childish game. I repeated "Hey Ashley! Why are you hitting yourself?!?! Huuhhh?? What did you say? Why are you HITTING yourself?!?" That didn't last long. She was back on top of me in seconds, hurting me.

After several, and boy do I mean SEVERAL cries for help, my mom stopped the pain.

Ninety percent of the time you may see Ashley and I, we are either bickering, fighting, or screaming at each other. Five percent of the time, we are crying because one of us hurt another. (I am not going to say who is usually crying...but it is definitely not me!) And the last five percent or the time, we spend snuggling up together watching a movie, or helping each other out with something. We might have our fights, but at the end of the day we love each other. Even if the Good Night sounds like this...

"Good night butt face, I hope the bed bugs bite you!" Then in whispers, "I love you."