They had promised it would only be temporary when they first moved in with me. Six months, maybe a year at most, until my father got back on his feet financially after his losses. But the months had turned into years slowly, and every time I brought up the subject of them finding their own place to live, my mother would remind me of everything they had sacrificed to raise me properly as a child. My father would clutch his back dramatically and talk about how hard it was to move at his age now. And I would feel guilty enough to let it go for another few months longer.
But this situation was completely different from anything before it. This wasn’t asking me to cover an unexpected bill or help with groceries during a tight month for them. This was taking $12,700 without permission and laughing about it openly to my face. This was booking a luxury vacation for themselves and my sister while treating my money like it was theirs to spend however they pleased without consequence.
No. Not this time.
For the first time in my entire life, I was going to stop being the family doormat for everyone.
The next morning, I called in sick to work for the first time in three years at my job. I needed time to think carefully about everything, to plan properly for what was ahead. To make absolutely sure I was really prepared to do what I was seriously considering doing.
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