My aunt left me her little cottage, yet my parents refused to accept it. They demanded that I sell the house, hand over the money, and keep only my share. In unison they declared that I had no right to the property.
Sometimes the people closest to you turn out to be enemies.
It feels absurd, but my parents simply loathe me. I often wonder whether they are truly my family at all. My younger sister, Poppy, is a different story. We could not be more unlike each other, and I detest everything about her temperament. Still, my parents have always held her up as the ideal child.
Poppy has only been in Year8 for a short while, constantly rude to elders and careless with herself. I have no one to emulate Though I was the eldest of the family, Poppy bought fresh fashions while I lingered in secondhand clothes she no longer wanted.
No one believed we were sisters. I was polite and tidy; she was vulgar and reckless. The only love I ever received came from my aunt, Barbara, my fathers sister. Childless herself, she cared for me and, honestly, felt nearer to me than either my parents or Poppy. We spent countless hours together, and she taught me everything I now know. With Aunt Barbara I felt safe, and I never wished to return home.
Now I can say that my aunt raised me. She was a seamstress who passed her love of needlework to me. Aunt Barbara was gravely ill, never in a hurry to start a family. When I finished school she passed away, leaving me her modest house.
The inheritance did not soothe the ache of losing someone dear. It seemed a twist of fate, a chance to crawl out of the snakepit and claim a quiet life. The only thing that unsettled me was my fathers belief that he was the rightful heir. I already imagined a scandal brewing.
My fears materialised the moment my parents and Poppy learned of the will. They insisted I sell the cottage, hand them the proceeds, and keep a token amount for myself. They all agreed I had no claim to the place.
When their arguments failed to sway me, they turned to pity, reminding each other that we were a family, that family bonds still mattered.
My own verdict is simple: I will sell the cottage, but only to buy a home as far away from them as possible. Even with a gun at my side I will not disclose my new address. I deserve a happy life without them.
I want this nightmare to end swiftly and to begin anew.
