My oldest brother happened upon our stupidity and ashed the rolled "grass" out on my forearm. Yes, he took the "joint" from my hands, insisted I hold out my arm and then he put out the cherry of the blunt by burning it into my inside arm. I never told anyone until now and I "never have I ever" done any drugs before or since. I do carry the cylinder brand on my forearm as a reminder to this very day.
Never have I ever regretted the look in his eyes that said, "No, not you too! I will not allow it. You are not allowed on this path." His eyes looked guilty, desperate, and anxious. I was 16 years old with one foot out the door already. He was not going to allow me to slip. So he did the unthinkable, he burned sense into me. I never even told momma.
Thinking back, never have I ever blamed him. I saw what drugs were doing to him and others in my family. I was his hope. Hope that it did not have to end badly for all of us.
So I wear a small scar now, so that I don't have to be forever scarred by a choice that surely would not have ended with "never have I ever."