Personal Narrative: My Genocide

When I was 8 years old, my father took me and my brother on a picnic. On that day, I did something wrong, and I will never forget it. It was a sunny day; I was very happy and excited. When we arrived there, my father warned me that the river was very dangerous and made me promise not to walk up to it. I promised my father, but I did not keep my promise.
I forget why I walked into the river. Maybe I was curious. I walked into the river, and I fell down because the river was very deep. I could not stand and touch the bottom. I cried out loudly, but nobody was there, except my younger brother.
I remember that my younger brother was very scared and did not know what he could do because he was just 7 years old. He jumped into the river, but that
just made the situation worse because he was even shorter than me and he could not swim. Both of us cried out.
Fortunately, there was a farmer who was working there. He found us and saved me first. At that time, I could no longer see my brother. I cried louder, and I shouted to the farmer, "Please save my brother!" He was very shocked because it turned out he had only seen me. He asked me, "Are you sure that your brother fell into the river?" "Of course, I am sure!" I answered.
Then, my father and my mother arrived and started looking for my brother in the river. Finally, they found him and took him to the hospital. Luckily my younger brother is alive, or else I could never forgive myself.