My burnt arm

There's a scar on my arm…

I sat at the kitchen table. My seven-month-old sister sat on my lap. My mother was in her bedroom with the door closed.

As I poured hot coffee into a foam cup my sister swung her little arms and knocked over the coffee. I quickly lifted her high in the air so she wouldn’t get burnt. But when I brought her back down to my lap, I screamed! The skin on my arm had shriveled up. [more]