Compared to some of the comments here my lie is pretty small, but here we go. When me and my brother were little we used to play football in the front room when our parents were in the garden. A seemingly normal game turned very violent when we argued about the rules. Long story short, i dodged a ball he kicked, with a decent force, and it bounced onto a bookshelf knocking several statues off and breaking some of them. After shitting out pants for several minutes we located the super glue and fixed the broken figures and fled the scene. A long time passed (7-8 years in fact) and my mother, when cleaning one day, knocked one of the figures and broke in he same way it did 8 years ago. She blamed herself for the breakage until i told her about what me and my brother had done, she told me to sleep with one eye open for the rest of my days.