All my life, I felt like an outsider in my family. My mother adored my sisters, Kira and Alexa, but treated me like a burden because I resembled the man she wanted to forget. I spent my childhood doing chores and getting leftover attention. My father tried to protect me, but as I grew older, I became more isolated. At fourteen,
I got a job and bought a DNA test, which revealed the truth: my father wasn’t really my father. My mother had cheated on him, and the truth shattered their marriage. He left, paying child support for Alexa but cutting ties with me. My mother’s hatred for me grew, blaming me for everything, even demanding I pay rent despite me already buying my own groceries.
After high school, I moved out, and despite the constant demands for money from my mother and sisters, I remained distant. When I demanded to know my biological father’s name, my mother finally gave it to me. I tracked him down, only to learn that he had tried to reach out but was misled by my mother. Rick, my biological father,
welcomed me with open arms and introduced me to his family. He gave me a house to make up for the years we lost. I moved in, finally experiencing what it was like to be truly cared for.Then, one day, my mother and Kira showed up at my house, claiming they had nowhere to stay. I refused to let them live there, and after a confrontation, I called the police. That was the last time I saw them. I changed the locks and blocked their numbers, feeling free for the first time in my life.