A story of my first childhood

When I was a child I used to ride my bicycle as fast as possible, along the street just in front my house.

My brother and I would challenge each other doing dangerous actions.
My mother would say to my brother and me not go too far away from home.

At sunset my father would call us out to come back home.

My brother would tell me about the accidents that had happened to the other children riding their bikes and the places where they had fallen.

One day my brother was taken to the hospital because he had fallen from his bike. The skin under his chin was stitched up and he had to wear a plaster for a week.

A few days after I found out how my brother had fallen. He had tried to ride down a steep descent, and, braking with the front brake, the bike had flipped over. So, I couldn't stop thinking about how to go down that descent and to slow the bike without any harm to me.

Ending 1
The descent takes you down to a dark garage entry was a challenge that I refused to face, and still now when I pass by it I feel a bit scared.

Ending 2
I rode down the descent and I fell on my side, and still now you can see a scar on my ankle.

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Note:
My teacher told me this post's title was wrong because one only has one childhood. I responded to him that I had really had two childhoods with two behaviours, two ways of relating to other people. So my teacher explained that the word first should be written in italic.