The taste of blood

I’m no stranger to the taste of blood in my mouth.
I had braces when I was a kid, metal ones.
With exposed wires.
My brother got wax to put over his braces to protect his cheeks and lips.
But I didn’t.
I had to take candles from the dining room cabinet and melt them down into protectors.
Which didn’t help much when my brother was punching me in the face.
Or telling his friends to.
When the braces came off, I wanted to melt them down into a knife.
And stab every one of those fuckers in the face.