I posted this story on my channel months ago, but there have been new updates lately that might interest some of you.

This is going to be very long—so long that I originally split it into multiple posts and included a TL;DR for each. I also really don’t care who believes this. It’s so crazy that I don’t blame anyone who calls BS. I won’t argue about it either way, but it happened to me. And I really don’t care if anyone in my family sees this. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything, but I’m also not going to reveal details that would clue strangers into who I am beyond what’s already obvious.

I’m a single man in my early 30s. I have a brother who’s 29, and he already has four kids. He had his first at 22, the second a year later, the third two years after that, and the fourth was born just a couple of months ago.

His wife—my sister-in-law, and I’ll call her Sil—does not get along with me. She always tries to get a rise out of me by acting superior, then turns into an extreme self-victimizing drama queen the second I clap back at her in any way. She can cry in an instant. She can put on an extremely convincing show and get sympathy from just about anyone.

My parents and my brother absolutely adore her, even though they know exactly how she really is and just don’t care.

She’s very good-looking, I’ll give her that, but she’s so awful that I could never be attracted to her.

She also refuses to get any sort of job, even though she has a college degree. My mother willingly helps with the kids all day, so my brother and Sil’s finances are entirely dependent on my brother. That also means they can’t afford to live anywhere except my parents’ house. Privacy is a bit of an issue with all of them under one roof in a three-bedroom house built in the 60s.

Growing up, my younger brother was the obvious favorite. We’re three years apart, but he developed a superiority complex because I was badly punished if I retaliated against his antics in any way.

It was obvious my parents cared for him a lot more because he got the lion’s share of everything—unless people called him out on it, which did happen a fair bit by other members of the family. That’s why my parents packed us all up and moved about 150 miles away from them. After that, they generally would only see us on holidays, since it was a three-hour drive.

My brother got physically abusive toward me on a number of occasions. He flirted relentlessly with my first girlfriend to the point she broke up with me. He laughed at any misfortune I had. And my parents just told me to suck it up whenever I was upset about it.

I only got equal treatment when my parents wanted to keep up appearances.

I’ll admit, it was rather funny to see the looks on their faces whenever they had to treat me equal to my brother on birthdays and Christmas, because other people were present. We had relatives who were very nosy and loved gossip and drama, so my parents did their best to hide what was really going on. They threatened to take all my stuff away if I didn’t keep my mouth shut.

If anything, it just made my parents celebrate more when I turned 18 and moved out because it meant they no longer had to provide for me. I wasn’t even done with high school yet when I moved out, but couch surfing was far better than living with them.

I was low contact ever since leaving home.

They didn’t even show up for my high school graduation, but I really didn’t care. From that point on, I would usually only see my parents and brother on holidays, like the rest of the family.

The start of the 2020 pandemic was not kind to me. I lost my job and couldn’t renew the lease on my condo because my roommate also lost his job, and neither of us could afford the place on unemployment money.

It was a rented two-bedroom condo that I really loved. But as the lease was ending, my roommate left early to move back in with relatives, and I had to sell nearly all my stuff because I was soon going to be homeless if I didn’t downsize to an extreme.

I really shouldn’t have rented a place that expensive. I liked living the high life until that life wasn’t kind to me, and I realized I should have been living somewhere far cheaper so I could have saved more money to fall back on.

But I had a plan.

I own a truck simply because I’ve always loved trucks. So I found a $1,000 camper in good shape and put it on my truck so I could live out of it for a while. It was supposed to be temporary, but I ended up living out of it far longer than I ever thought.

Originally, I was hoping to be able to live out of the camper at my parents’ house, where my brother and his family still resided. But when I asked my parents to let me stay for a while, they told me they had a full house and didn’t want me there. Plus, we hadn’t exactly gotten along in the past decade.

They said they’d only agree to let me park my camper there if I paid them basically what it would cost to rent an apartment in my area. That was way too much just to park my camper.

I was jobless and trying to save as much of my unemployment money as I could until I could find a new job. I may as well have been living in an apartment with the rent price they were asking.

My parents called my camper an eyesore and told me to take a hike since we couldn’t come to an agreement. Sil thought it was absolutely hilarious that I had to live in a camper.

My brother joined her in pointing and mocking me while calling me a homeless bum.

I parked my truck and camper in a store parking lot to sleep on the first night I had nowhere else to go. I felt scared out of my mind that someone might try to break in. Suffice it to say, I didn’t sleep well that night.

There was nowhere else I could go. Any other relatives who owned houses were fairly far away, and all my friends were apartment people. I was pretty attached to my area as well, so I didn’t want to just leave.

I’d had my mail forwarded to a friend’s apartment. It was the only way I could still get my mail.

Finding a stable place to park was pretty difficult. I went looking around to try and find a job similar to my old one. It took months of living the nomadic camper life.

In that time I had to deal with a lot—everything from beggars and drug addicts, to people demanding I leave because my camper was an eyesore. At one point someone told me to move, claimed to be within an HOA. I wasn’t even parked on a street with houses, and when I questioned what HOA, they got incredibly belligerent and threatened me. I moved my camper anyway just to avoid the trouble.

In order to have a steady supply of electricity, I learned to use a long extension cord to plug in anywhere I could to recharge my camper batteries. That meant sneaking around and plugging it into an outside outlet of a random building while parked on a street.

I know that’s a crummy thing to do, but I had to keep my batteries charged so my refrigerator would stay cold.

I had a small solar power bag for recharging my phone, but I didn’t have anything like a generator. Generators are noisy and require fuel anyway, so I did what I had to do.

After months of living like that, I finally managed to get a new job. I had to move to the neighboring city to find a job that didn’t involve retail. I worked retail while in college and promised myself never again—though I was nearly ready to break that promise.

I was still getting unemployment money, but I had no stable place to live while receiving it, and I didn’t want to still be jobless when it ran out. Plus, I was bored out of my mind. I had little else to do but read, watch movies on a small portable DVD player, use my phone or laptop, and keep note of where I could park and what local public bathrooms I could use.

I kind of envy that the Japanese have public bath houses. We could really use stuff like that over here.

When I finally landed a new job, I practically lived in the back lot of the building by the warehouse and old employee parking spaces—literally spaces no one else seemed to bother using because they were so far in the back that the area was borderline forgotten.

My boss—the company owner—actually liked this arrangement because I was willingly available to take any shift I could get, so long as I had enough sleep. He even let me take the camper off my truck and set it up in one of the spaces so I could drive around without it.

Not exactly sure if this was legal, but no one bothered us about it the entire time I lived back there.

I didn’t have to deal with many trespassers there. There were a few, but the security guards escorted them out.

I was pretty much on call almost all the time when they needed me, and I was working virtually every day of the week.

My boss let me plug my camper into the building for power and water. I paid a small amount of rent by working for free on Sundays when no one else was in the office but the janitor and the security guard.

Beyond that, I usually had to shower at a friend’s apartment or at my local gym, because the camper didn’t have a shower—only a portable toilet. I didn’t want to fill it because emptying it is a nasty chore, so I used other bathrooms as often as I could.

I had a key to the warehouse and could go in to use the bathroom there at any hour. I was even on a first-name basis with the night security guard. He’s since become one of my closest friends.

The camper was easy to heat in the winter with a small electric heater. Summers were not fun though. The camper didn’t have AC, so I had to get a used portable air conditioner just to make it bearable.

I made a lot of overtime pay and hands-on learned some new skills from other employees.

Eventually, midway into that year, I landed a better position in the company as a supervisor and started making a better salary than my old job.

That’s when I decided I wanted a house.

The scare I’d gotten from losing my condo made me realize I needed something much more stable for the long term. I looked around for something close to my work and, just two miles away, found a three-bedroom manufactured home on a small property.

Somehow I managed to get it for $10,000 less than the asking price.

I used nearly my entire savings for a down payment and got approved for a home loan.

I finally didn’t have to live in a camper anymore.

There was enough space for me to back my truck in behind the house to take the camper off and set it up in the backyard, so I put it there as its own little building—just in case I ever wanted to use it again.

When I was fully settled in the house, I was dumb enough to brag about it on my “book of faces.” My family saw the post, and that’s where this [ __ ] really starts.

A few weeks later, my parents and brother, along with his family, came to visit completely unannounced to have a tour of my home.

I didn’t even give them my address, so how they found out where I live, I still don’t know.

None of my friends have fessed up. No other family members had visited me before that, so I wonder if they stalked me at work and followed me home or something. It really wouldn’t surprise me.

Once I opened the door, they practically shoved their way in like rambunctious tourists and started making themselves at home.

They all kept poking around, and Sil had this creepy smirk she kept flashing me.

It was only later that I figured out why, and it made me madder than a bull on steroids that just got stung by a hornet.

My parents kept talking about how I had so much extra space now and it was too much for someone like me who had no wife or kids. Sure—not now—but maybe someday.

My brother kept remarking how there was more space than our parents’ house and my house was closer to his job too.

Red flags all around.

Eventually, my brother asked me to speak privately. Everyone else suddenly left the room and piled out onto the front porch.

That’s what finally made me realize they’d planned something.

My brother—let’s call him Dan, for the sake of simplicity—said the house was too much for me alone and I should let him move in with his family because Sil was pregnant with kid number four and my house was much closer to his job.

He pointed out that I already had the camper, so I could just live in that outside while they lived in the main house.

And I’d like to point out: Dan never once spoke of offering rent. Not once.

He’s got a good job.

He also started talking about how there would be changes—curfews—and that I couldn’t just walk in at any time without prior notice.

If it weren’t my brother, I would’ve thought the person I was talking to had lost their mind. But Dan lost his marbles long ago thanks to our parents treating him like he was the center of the world.

I tried to speak, but he kept talking over me, as if I had no say in the matter.

There was no way in hell I’d rent my house—or any part of my house—to him. Other people maybe, so I could pay the mortgage off more easily, but certainly not him or his nasty wife.

I’d heard of this exact kind of situation in videos online many times, and never once did I think I’d actually live it, because I thought it was so ludicrous.

But my parents, brother, and Sil do fit the bill for a bunch of narcissistic entitled crazies.

So I picked up my phone and started recording. I just held it there.

Dan didn’t even seem to care or notice. He sat there with his arms waving around, listing reason after reason why he needed my house. Then he shifted from saying he needed it to acting like it was a done deal.

He reached out his hand like he expected me to shake it.

That’s when I finally showed my backbone.

“No,” I said.

I said it loud enough that Dan stumbled backward for a second.

I’d rarely ever raised my voice to him on that level, because I was punished by our parents whenever I did.

But this was my house, not theirs.

My spine could be as shiny as it wanted here.

I stood up.

I told him my house was not up for grabs, and acting like I’d let him move in just because they wanted it wasn’t going to make it happen.

“I bought my house for me,” I told him. “It’s not my fault you keep having more kids and have to keep living with Mom and Dad because you can’t afford to move out.”

Dan got as physically close to me as he could without actually touching me.

“You don’t deserve the house,” he said. “I need a better place for my family to live.”

I laughed in his face.

“That’s total [ __ ],” I said. “I worked hard to buy this house. Of course I deserve it.”

Dan started yelling.

“You have no wife or kids!” he shouted. “You don’t need all this space, so you may as well give it to me!”

“I’m not giving you anything,” I said. “And you never even offered to pay rent.”

If I let him move in, I’d still be covering the entire mortgage on my own house, without even being able to live in my own house.

Then Dan told me he shouldn’t have to pay rent because his family comes first.

“And Mom and Dad said you’re going to do this,” he added, like their word was law.

I yelled back that they didn’t have the right or power to give my house to him.

Right on cue, my parents and Sil barged back in through the front door and surrounded me to try and force me to agree.

There was a lot of fighting, but to sum it up from that point on, I heard the line “Just do it for Dan” more times than I can remember.

I told them they don’t have a say in my life or my house, and to get out before I called the cops.

Sil screamed the loudest.

She went on about how she was pregnant again and I “can’t do this to her.”

I told her I did nothing to her. She just assumed she could take and take from me like I would allow it.

I said I had no obligation to her or her family.

Then I called her a stuck-up [ __ ] who never had any respect for me, and I didn’t care what she thought or how many kids she had.

I had no sympathy for her.

She wouldn’t be living in my house.

That made her angry enough to attack me.

She got in one good hit on my face and tried to do more, but my brother held her back—kicking and screaming. She kept demanding he let her go so she could scratch my eyes out.

The phone I was holding recorded pretty much everything.

I held it up.

“I’m calling the police if you don’t leave,” I said.

My parents told Dan they were leaving.

Then my mother said, “You have a week to come to your senses.”

“I won’t,” I told her. “And don’t come back.”

I looked at Sil.

“My phone recorded everything,” I said. “If you try anything, I’ll press charges for assault.”

She screamed at me and stormed out, loudly crying with her face in her hands.

My mother was the last one out the door.

“You better do this for Dan and Sil,” she said.

“I won’t,” I told her.

As I stated earlier, many will find this unbelievable and long. Yes, I’m aware there are similar sounding posts online. I’ve seen a number of them now. But it’s not like those posters have a monopoly on this sort of [ __ ] happening.

If anything, I’m surprised this site hasn’t been better weaponized against this sort of thing, since entitled people should be more afraid of getting outed here.

Anyway, I do not blame anyone who calls [ __ ]. I would too if I was reading this.

But if you’ve read this far, you already know how messed up my parents are. In my life, they were the root of all evil that spoiled my brother into the [ __ ] he is today.

Never once have they given me a real reason for why, and I kind of fear there isn’t one.

Some people can’t explain why they make choices like child favoritism, so it’s all they can do to try and stand by the child they backed.

That’s exactly what my parents tried to do.

And I’ve practically destroyed their lives for it—not in the legal sense, but more an emotional one.

After I kicked my parents, brother, and Sil out for trying to force me to hand over my new house to my brother, I immediately went to social media and told the story to the whole family.

It spread pretty fast.

You won’t find it now, because it all got deleted some time ago and I put my own profile on private.

I posted about it because I knew the first thing my family would do when they got home was twist the event to make me the villain.

And I was exactly right.

But I had about an hour to get started before them, and I had video evidence to back up my story about what they’d done.

No, I don’t plan on showing the video here, so don’t ask.

Being preemptive worked. I got a fair number of family members on my side right away.

My parents, Dan, and Sil must have been all set to write their own post, but it was too late. So they didn’t even bother trying to lie much.

They had a few flying monkeys supporting them, but not much else. Plenty of others already knew how entitled they were, so what happened was something they quickly understood and accepted.

One person in particular called me. I don’t know who they were, but they ranted that I was a horrible brother and I needed to make way for a “real family man.”

I ended the call and blocked the number.

That didn’t repeat.

The week went by.

My parents showed up with Dan at my front porch just like they said they would.

They rang my doorbell like crazy and pounded on the door until I finally answered.

I opened it just a crack, and they tried to shove their way in again.

But I’d installed a couple of latch chains that prevented it, and I braced my body against the door for good measure.

My father and brother demanded I let them in.

I said I was recording everything on camera and would call the police if they tried to force their way in again.

My mother calmed them down. Then, in her most sickly sweet tone, she asked me if I was ready to let my brother move in.

I told her—and the rest of them—to [ __ ] off and never come back.

My mother put on the crocodile tears.

“Why can’t you just do this for Dan?” she asked. “He’s your beloved brother.”

I laughed.

Then I said it bluntly:

“I do not love him as a brother. He treated me like [ __ ] for years, and you only encouraged him. You’re terrible parents, and he’s a terrible brother.”

Then I told them to leave or I’d be calling police ASAP.

They all left surprisingly easily, apart from my mother’s loud crying and the others giving me dirty looks.

One could say making them leave was suspiciously easy.

I thought the whole mess was over.

I guess I should have taken them more seriously.

They had other stupid plans.

I came home later that week—Friday evening—to find a moving truck and my brother’s minivan parked in my driveway.

It was Dan and his family.

They were moving stuff in.

He waved at me with a [ __ ]-eating grin.

I saw him and I was furious. I told him and the rest of his family to stop.

Sil smirked.

“Like it or not,” she said, “we’re moving in.”

Then, in the most fake way—tilting her head and puckering her lips—she said it was okay because my mommy allowed it, and I should always listen to what my mommy tells me.

Just hearing those words and looking at her smug [ __ ] face made me seize with rage.

I locked myself in my truck to call the cops right away.

When they realized what I was doing, Sil started pounding on my window and yelling at me to stop.

She screamed that I can’t do this to her because she and Dan need the house.

She cried, “Why can’t you just do this for Dan?”

I yelled back, “[ __ ] Dan! It’s my damn house, not his!”

Then she threatened to key the side of my truck unless I stopped calling the police.

The 911 operator heard thanks to the window being slightly open.

I told Sil if she damaged my truck, I’d sue her.

She was smart enough to retreat when the police arrived.

Dan and Sil, along with their kids, locked themselves in my house.

I told the cops what had happened and showed them my new driver’s license with my current address on it.

When we went to my front door, I saw they’d changed the lock.

The old lock was laying on the porch with the center drilled out.

The drill they used was laying right next to it.

They’d left a complete Harbor Freight drill bit set too.

Could they have been any more stupid, leaving evidence out like that?

I pointed out the broken lock and the drill, then gave the police a rundown on everything that happened before.

I guess Dan called our parents over after I arrived, because they showed up while I was talking to the cops.

My parents immediately lied.

They said I’d agreed to rent my house to my brother and his family.

I told them that was an easily provable lie.

Dan and Sil finally came out of my house with some papers in hand.

They both looked super smug, like they’d somehow outsmarted me.

They’d drawn up and printed out a fake rental agreement.

My signature wasn’t on it.

There was one—but it looked nothing like my handwriting.

I don’t think any of them have ever actually seen my signature, so that was incredibly stupid on their part.

I told my parents and Dan it was stupidly blatant fraud.

“If the cops investigate, they’ll figure it out,” I said. “And I don’t think going to jail would do you any good. It could even make you lose your job, Dan, and that’s your only means of providing for your family.”

I also said I would get a lawyer and sue for damages if anything of mine was lost, stolen, or broken.

And I said I’d call CPS too, for good measure.

Dan went white.

He looked really scared when I said that.

But my mother got between us and doubled down.

She repeated that I should just do it for Dan and live in the damn camper so they could finally have a family home to themselves.

I yelled at her.

“If you think it’s such a good idea,” I said, “then do it for Dan yourself. Let Dan have your house instead.”

The cops separated my mother from me.

I said I wanted them all out right now, or I’d press charges.

I shouted that they drilled out my front door lock to break in.

The lease papers were obvious fakes.

They badly forged my signature.

And I had recorded video of Sil attacking me.

“Those are felonies,” I said. “I could [ __ ] over your lives with this if I want. If you don’t leave, I will.”

The moment my parents heard that, I think it finally clicked that they could not force me to do it for Dan.

My mother surrendered.

She said she’d put an end to it.

She went over to Sil and spoke quietly to her for a minute, while my father spoke to Dan.

Sil instantly started loudly crying.

She ripped up the fake rental papers into tiny bits and tossed them like confetti.

An officer told her to pick up the bits of paper or he’d cite them for littering.

Both cops had the “I don’t get paid enough for this” look on their faces.

Dan had to start telling his kids to load their stuff back into the moving truck.

The kids were all crying.

The eldest sobbed that he won’t get his own room now.

Sil and Dan gathered their kids up and tried one last pathetic attempt to guilt me.

You know the sad-family routine—where they all gather in a sort of group hug while facing one direction.

I swear they practiced it beforehand.

All the kids had the same pleading look with quivering mouths.

Sil kept rubbing her pregnant belly and tilting her head like a sad puppy.

My brother made the saddest face he possibly could.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t do this. We need to be able to live here.”

I didn’t falter.

“Keep packing,” I told them.

The crying turned up to eleven.

Dan yelled, “Are you satisfied with yourself? You denied us a home because you’re too selfish to share and help out family!”

I laughed like a maniac.

“What you’re trying to do is taking,” I shot back. “Not sharing.”

“No amount of crying will make me let you move in. You’re no brother of mine anymore. You’re just an entitled prick who thinks you can take whatever you want from me like when we were kids.”

Dan started F-bombing me until the cops told him to cool it, or he’d be in cuffs.

He sucked in his lips.

He looked both afraid and supremely pissed off.

I asked the cops if they could stick around until my parents, brother, and Sil had all left.

They said they had no intention of going anywhere until it was resolved.

In the next few minutes, two cops became four as more drove in.

That gave my parents extra incentive to get moving.

I made Dan give me the keys to the new lock he’d put on my front door—though I got another lock the next day anyway, because I didn’t know if he had copies.

He was reluctant.

Instead of handing the keys to me, he threw them down the street and into a storm drain.

“Go get them yourself,” he said.

One of the cops scolded him and made him go get them.

He had to pull the grate off just to get at them, and he got pretty dirty in the process.

When he got the keys back, he grumbled and slammed them down into my hand.

Then I told them all to leave and never come back.

My mother said I’d be disowned for this—as if that was some kind of threat.

I voiced that right then and there.

“Oh no,” I said, dripping sarcasm. “That means I won’t get to come to holidays with you guys where I always get treated like [ __ ] anyway, because Dan has always been your obvious favorite.”

I kept going.

“You treated me so badly growing up that if Dan ever needs an organ donor, I wouldn’t give him anything. So do like you always told me when I was mistreated by all of you—suck it up.”

My parents looked floored.

The quartet of cops looked pretty judgmental toward them too.

If you want to put nasty parents like mine on the spot, confront them in front of cops. They likely won’t try anything really stupid.

My mother started crying and walking away.

My father just stood there looking like he wanted to hit me.

Dan held his kids in defeat.

Sil was having a tantrum in my front lawn.

Soon they all formed a line, handing out boxes, getting their stuff out of my house.

Nothing had been unpacked yet, so it all came out pretty quickly.

But while doing it, my mother kept saying it wasn’t too late and I could still do it for Dan.

She tried bargaining.

She said Dan could pay rent if I let them stay.

When that didn’t work, she said I could move back in with them so Dan could rent my house and I wouldn’t have to share the building.

I told her to shut up and keep packing boxes.

“I don’t want Dan or his family around,” I said. “I don’t want his money. I certainly don’t want to live with you people ever again.”

After the way they treated me when I was a kid, making a deal with my parents would be like making a deal with the devil.

Sil threw another tantrum after hearing that. She threw a box down, then sat on the ground for a pity party because she didn’t want to go back to sharing a house with my parents.

She sat there looking angry and sad until everyone else was finished.

She didn’t even want to get up when it was time to leave.

They finally got everything out of my house and into the truck.

Before they left, I laid into my parents one last time about all the [ __ ] they put me through growing up.

With four cops standing right there, they couldn’t do much other than stand there and take it for once.

I called them out on so many things. I pointed out how they couldn’t even do something basic for me—like letting me stay with my camper when I was homeless and trying to get back on my feet.

I reminded them how they let Dan and Sil ridicule me and call me a bum.

Well—who was the bum now?

They wanted to kick me out of my own house so Dan could stay in it free of charge. Yet when I needed a place to go, they tried to gouge me for more than I could afford just to park my camper.

The cops stared at them with even more judgment.

I asked my parents what I ever did, other than being born, to deserve being treated so badly.

Because the moment I finally had a little success in life, they tried to snatch it away for their favorite child.

They’d rather I give everything to Dan and have nothing for myself.

I bought my house using the money I earned.

I owed them nothing.

And I wouldn’t be asking anything from them ever again, because clearly I’d never be anything more than a doormat or a cash cow in their eyes.

I got no answers.

They just stood there like fish out of water.

My father was beet red—but more from embarrassment than anger this time.

My mother was crying that she was a horrible person.

I bluntly agreed.

“She is,” I said. “You all are.”

I even said I bet they’ll go to hell for it too.

They were shitty people and they knew it.

If I’d called them out in private, they’d have just gotten mad at me and still acted like I was wrong.

They’d kept up the denial for so long that it became part of who they were.

My mother buried her face in my father’s jacket to cry.

My father looked more defeated than I’d ever seen him.

Dan and his family avoided me as they finished loading.

I made sure nothing of mine was stolen—not that I’d had a chance to get much furniture yet. I was lucky to have a couch.

They all got back in their vehicles.

Sil stood and stared at me with malice until Dan finally got her to drive the minivan home.

As soon as they were all gone, I got back online again and spilled the beans.

My parents were too embarrassed to defend their actions this time.

The family had been somewhat split before, but now it was a landslide in my favor.

Nearly all the family sided with me after that incident.

Those who didn’t, didn’t side with anybody.

Any remaining familial support my parents had was gone.

Even some former flying monkeys sided with me.

I guess they’d finally had enough.

Around that time I offered to host half the family for next Christmas Eve in my new house.

My parents were not invited.

I wasn’t blocked on Dan and Sil’s profile, surprisingly. I saw Sil had her fourth baby in early November.

They were still living with my parents.

I’m pretty sure they knew I was watching, because Sil kept making passive aggressive posts every couple of weeks about not having enough space while living with my parents—probably to see if she could still guilt me.

I’m sure it was driving my mother and father up the wall. They weren’t getting any peace and quiet in their old age with three rowdy obnoxious kids, a mentally unstable Sil, my golden-child brother, and a newborn baby all at once.

Perhaps they could move into a camper in their own backyard and let Dan take over their house completely.

They might get some peace then.

Yeah—they could do that for Dan.

There was supposed to be more, but the post got way too long.

I posted more later.

At one point, people commented en masse to get cameras. I said I would when I could afford it. I was still in financial recovery from buying a house.

I was aware of doorbell cams. That would be the first kind I got.

People also kept saying I should have gotten Dan and Sil arrested.

The only reason I didn’t was because they are parents.

Their kids need them.

If Dan was arrested, he’d likely lose his job. Without that, his family has no money.

Sil had a one-month-old baby at the time.

Neither of them needed jail.

But you don’t need jail for revenge.

Police can help, yes—but I got payback without filing a police report.

Would I be this merciful again?

More than likely not.

And they know it.

I decided to wait on making an account and posting until after the New Year, just in case more stuff happened.

It did.

As prior readers know, Sil was making passive aggressive posts on social media that were obviously directed at me.

After her fourth baby in November, she posted the same repetitive nonsense over and over. She just found semi-new ways of rewording it.

She kept regurgitating that she was tired of living with my parents, there isn’t enough space, she needs her own house—blah blah blah.

I know I sound dismissive, but live through what I have with these people and you’d be ready to sarcastically play tiny violins in front of them too.

They’re just that bad.

Since I waited until January to make an account, more happened like I thought.

I’d invited half the family for a Christmas Eve party at my house, and everyone I invited came—even though it was a long drive of around three to four hours.

They wanted to come and show support.

They praised me for how hard I worked to get a house on my own.

They said they were sorry for everything I’d been through.

They asked why I didn’t just take my camper and drive the three hours back to them instead of being basically homeless for so long.

I admitted—sheepishly—that I was attached to living around here and my best employment opportunities were in this area.

My hometown doesn’t have many great job opportunities in my field, if any.

They accepted that.

We moved on to having a nice party—one of the best I’d had in years.

Some relatives brought CDs of great Christmas albums.

One uncle brought a Ray Charles Christmas album, and I have to say it was my favorite.

He sings Christmas songs like no one else.

It was grand.

I felt like, for once, I could forget my past issues and enjoy the moment.

But I wouldn’t be writing this if it stayed that way.

About two hours into the party, you know who showed up.

My parents, Dan, and Sil walked right in, trying to look all smiles.

They didn’t even knock.

They just came through my front door like they were meant to be there.

I shut off the music.

“Leave,” I said immediately.

They begged to stay.

They said they brought gifts.

One of my uncles—my mother’s brother—stood up and yelled at them before I could speak again.

He said they didn’t deserve to be in my home or my life after the [ __ ] they tried to pull months earlier.

Several other relatives backed him up.

My grandparents—my mother’s parents—hurriedly got in between us.

They told my parents that if they wanted to make amends with me, it was far too soon.

They said they’d never been more disappointed in them than they were that past year.

They said my parents had hidden their favoritism for Dan from prying eyes for a long time, but no one was fooled anymore.

They needed to make a serious effort to treat me like a son if they ever wanted to be in my life again.

Then they turned to Dan and Sil and said they’d seen the repetitive nonsense Sil kept posting.

They were tired of it.

They told Sil to let it go.

My house would not become their new home.

Sil did what she always does.

She cried.

She plopped down in a chair for a pity party and said it wasn’t fair that I got the house to myself when I have no family of my own, and she had four kids who needed more space.

She said she just wanted a better place to live and feel like a real mom.

It was petty of me, but I pointed out—loudly—that she sucks as a mother.

My mother does most of the parenting while Sil sits on her butt all day drinking, playing on her phone, or going out spending all of Dan’s money.

She had the nerve to complain about it.

I even joked that I was surprised her baby doesn’t get drunk from her breast milk since she drinks so much booze.

I admit that went a bit too far, because I got some stares.

Sil demanded to know if I was calling her a bad mom.

I said the evidence speaks for itself.

If she wanted to afford moving out of my parents’ house someday, she needed to put her college degree to use, get a job, and learn to save money.

My mother already does most of the childcare anyway, so Sil would have plenty of time after the baby got older.

My brother’s eldest kid—seven years old at the time—ran up and started kicking and screaming at me for yelling at his mom.

He went on about how his mom said I was the bad guy who made her cry and didn’t let them live here.

My brother grabbed his son to pull him away.

Other relatives jumped in.

It turned into a family intervention against my sister-in-law and my brother.

Sil was crying.

Her new baby was crying.

Her kids were crying.

Hell—even Dan looked like he was close to tears from the verbal lashing.

He sat on the ottoman by the front door where I keep shoes and looked like a wreck.

He couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

He couldn’t even say two words to me—not with a whole house full of angry people ready to judge him if he tried to let his inner golden child out.

If they weren’t there to get in his way, I bet this would have ended up like the time he tried to take my house months earlier.

But by then, he’d been so thoroughly humiliated that his and my parents’ reputation in the family was destroyed.

The masks were off.

Soon after my parents, brother, and Sil left in defeat, the party resumed.

We avoided speaking about what happened.

Most of the adults had been drinking.

Everyone stayed the night.

I let some sleep in the camper so there’d be enough space.

I’ll admit, it makes a good guest house.

My relatives wanted a tour of it earlier too.

They said they couldn’t believe I’d lived in it for around two years.

They asked what summer and winter were like.

Christmas morning, I was up earlier than everyone.

I made a fresh pot of coffee.

I set out ibuprofen for those spiked-eggnog hangovers.

People complimented me on being a nicer host than my parents ever were.

We all agreed to do it again next Christmas.

After Christmas, Sil finally stopped making posts that were obvious digs at me.

She deleted the old ones.

Shortly after the New Year, she made a new post complaining that she’d tried to convince my parents to get a camper like I had so it could be set up in the backyard, so Dan and his family could use the whole house as their family home.

My parents turned that idea down vehemently.

No one was going to push them out of their own home—let alone their master bedroom.

The post was only up a couple of days before Sil removed it.

She hardly posted anything after that.

She loves to complain, but if a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, can it still complain?

Sil, I guess, realized there was no point in whining when no one listened anymore.

Dan couldn’t afford to move his family out on his salary anytime soon.

If they expected another child in the next few years, I wouldn’t be surprised.

Things mellowed down for me.

I invited friends over for poker night.

I suck at poker because I can never remember a damn thing about it, but so what?

We got to drink beer and eat junk food.

We loaded up on Whoppers from Burger King and had at it the best way four grown men can when they want a good, unadulterated time and get pissed drunk.

I thought maybe around summer I’d look into dating.

I’m not getting younger.

Fingers crossed.

My camper sat idle in my yard.

Some days I went out there just to spend time in it.

I lived in it for two years.

It felt like my second home.

Maybe one day I’d actually get to use it for camping like it was meant to be.

I’d never been camping.

My parents considered it a waste of time.

It would be a completely new experience.

For a while, that pretty much marked the end of what happened.

My parents, brother, and Sil stayed clear of me.

They went back to acting like I didn’t exist—like they did before I bought a house.

That didn’t bother me.

It was better that way.

Still, I knew they’d inevitably come back.

I just wondered what kind of stupid thing they’d do next.

Eventually, my parents did exactly what people predicted: they came sniffing around wanting either my money or my signature.

I expected the classic narcissist lines—how I owe them, or some socialist BS about sharing the wealth.

Turns out the situation was somewhat similar to that, but much more tame.

They seem to know not to push me too far now.

They aimed for pity.

My parents got in touch through social media and asked for a meeting in a public place of my choosing.

It screamed trap, but I wasn’t afraid.

I was amused.

They know I’m not to be [ __ ] with anymore, so I could only wonder what they wanted.

I picked a local restaurant that may have a name with an “olive” and a “garden” in it.

We met up there.

Dan came with them, but he kept his mouth shut most of the time.

We had awkward greetings, ordered drinks, and then cut to the chase.

My parents begged me to help Dan get his own apartment so he could finally move out.

Apparently Dan’s credit isn’t so great.

Gee, I wonder why.

Could it be his wife regularly spends him into a hole?

My parents asked me to help by either supplying some capital or co-signing for an apartment and helping pay the rent.

I said no to both.

That’s when Dan spoke up, anger sharpening his voice.

“You have so much,” he yelled. “You don’t have a family to support like I do. You need to help. You should be sparing the money for my family since you don’t have one.”

I laughed.

“Where were you when I needed help?” I asked.

Then I answered myself.

“Right—you were pointing and laughing at me for being homeless.”

“Or should we go further back, to my childhood?” I added. “I’d love to delve into that—with plenty of ears to listen.”

My mother grabbed my hand and begged me not to speak of any of it.

My father and Dan looked away.

They said nothing.

I’m pretty sure they wanted to snap at me like they used to, but they held their tongues.

I asked if they thought I was rich.

The look on their faces said it all.

I told them I don’t have that kind of money.

They looked at me like deer in headlights.

So I broke it down.

I explained how much I managed to save for the down payment, and the way I had to live and work to save that much so fast.

Then I explained how I spent nearly all of it on my down payment.

I told them I was still in financial recovery.

Yes, I had monthly income to spare.

But most of it was going into my savings.

I asked Dan what his yearly salary was.

When he told me, I pointed out it was actually a bit higher than mine.

Then I loosely broke down rough math in front of my parents:

About 70% of my income goes to the mortgage, insurance, gasoline, internet, phone, food, and other bills.

Then maybe 30% is left at most.

That 30% goes into savings.

Because I need a cushion.

My truck is from the 90s. If it breaks down, I need money to fix or replace it.

And there are other things you need a rainy day fund for—home repairs, doctors, taxes, lawyers, anything.

You need quick cash when it’s a sudden unexpected expense.

“So as you can see,” I told them, “I can’t spare money for Dan.”

“And I refuse to co-sign for anything,” I added, “because that would leave me on the hook for any bill Dan couldn’t or wouldn’t pay.”

Then I pointed out that’s likely why my parents didn’t co-sign for Dan’s apartment themselves long ago.

My mother started crying.

I was one step ahead of them.

“I’m not an ATM,” I told them. “And I’m not a fool.”

I expected my father to explode like he always did.

But this time—he didn’t.

No sneer.

No outburst.

The only way I can describe the look he had was regret and defeat.

Maybe regret for being a shitty parent.

Maybe regret because he can’t bully me anymore.

Who knows.

Either way, my parents couldn’t really argue.

I wasn’t giving them money.

Dan got up.

“This was a waste of time,” he said.

He started to leave.

My mother apologized for him, but he still walked.

Then—just to kill with kindness—I offered to buy them a round of unlimited soup and salad while we were there.

I guess they couldn’t turn down free food, since we’d only ordered drinks.

So they stayed.

I talked about anything other than money.

Dan stayed quiet. He ate or looked at his phone.

My parents awkwardly talked with me.

They said they’d joined a local Christian church and had been going for the last two weeks.

I said good for them.

They tried to invite me.

I said no thanks.

They were smart enough not to push further.

When the meal was finished, Dan left $10 on the table for the tip and walked off without saying another word.

My mother excused his behavior.

We parted ways.

Not nearly as much drama as I expected.

Still, it was far better than how things used to be with my parents and brother.

As for Sil, she’d been regularly complaining online about my parents. She didn’t like the fact that she wasn’t queen bee in their house.

I think her toxicity finally got to them.

Why else would they be so desperate to come crawling back to me?

Sil wanted my parents to move into a camper like I had to, to make space in the house.

She was told no every time.

She did seem to have a following of car-minded people like her, because here and there I’d get messages from people I didn’t know—raging at me for not giving up my house for Sil.

I didn’t argue.

I just blocked.

There was one persistent troll who had my phone number.

They called from a different number every time.

It seemed to be the same person who’d told me I needed to make way for a real family man.

I didn’t care.

The calls slowed down.

Maybe stopped.

I made it clear they were only amusing me.

The last call was around the beginning of the month.

Then silence.

Half a year after the original posts, things did go bad again—but not really for me.

I’m pretty much fine, if not almost unscathed since last Christmas.

I got a few cameras for my house, including a Ring doorbell in front.

I didn’t tell my family about the cameras.

Thus far, no one attempted another break-in.

I think the way I outed them scared them into leaving me alone for the most part.

I also started renting out two of the rooms in my house.

One to a close friend.

The other to a friend of said close friend.

Both have been fantastic tenants.

They keep quiet.

They leave me alone.

They even have small refrigerators in their rooms, so they don’t need to keep their drinks in the main fridge.

The deal I gave them on rent was too good to pass up.

It increased my monthly income, and even after taxes I’m still putting away decent amounts because the rent pays a good chunk of my mortgage.

You’re probably wondering how my parents, brother, and Sil took to me renting rooms to friends.

Not well.

My father and Dan stayed out of it.

Sil freaked out.

That made my mother come crying to me about how I could have rented those rooms to Dan and his family instead.

We argued.

I pointed out, for one thing, they broke into my house before to try to steal it.

She wouldn’t want someone like that living with her either.

Also, there wasn’t enough room for me, Dan, and his entire family.

It’s a three-bedroom manufactured home.

I have the master bedroom with a joining bathroom.

That leaves only two small rooms.

Dan, Sil, and four kids in two small rooms?

Not happening.

Not to mention they’d be annoying as [ __ ].

And my mother knows I can’t be around Sil. She intentionally antagonized me.

They all mocked me when I was homeless.

Besides, my tenants are both single guys in their 30s.

I get along with them.

My mother sobbed excuses for a while, then finally let it go and admitted she was desperate.

My parents found out I was renting rooms because Sil basically stalked me in some way, then told my parents, and then my parents contacted me, and then my mother came over to cry about it.

Since then, my parents haven’t bothered me once about the house.

So things were good for me.

For my parents and Dan?

Not so much.

It turns out Sil is a far worse person than even I thought.

I already knew she was a gaslighting, self-victimizing, dramatic [ __ ]…

But she sank even lower.

Because Dan’s youngest child turned out not to be his.

Yeah.

Sil had an affair.

In retrospect, it’s not surprising—something a few people called months ago.

After she was caught, Sil was ousted from the family.

Dan finished his divorce.

It went in his favor since we thankfully live in an “a fault” state.

Dan also sued to get his name taken off the birth certificate of the youngest child.

He won.

Basically, after the incident where my parents tried to force me to hand over my house, things got tumultuous in their house.

Sil blamed me a lot.

She was convinced I had tons of money—like I’d won the lottery—and that I should share the wealth.

Apparently it was her idea that they come to my Christmas party.

She hoped they could get on my good side.

It was also her idea that my parents and Dan try to get money from me for an apartment.

It burst her bubble when they told her what my finances actually were.

For the longest time, she had Dan and my parents fully engulfed in her toxic mindset.

She fed their narcissism with her own.

Her blaming me made the rest of them blame me too.

Until what happened in front of the police.

That’s when Sil’s downfall really started.

My parents and Dan were apprehensive about coming to my Christmas party after I’d outed them.

But Sil convinced them to throw together cheap gifts and show up.

She thought I’d never throw them out once they were already there.

Boy, was she wrong.

She gambled.

With everyone’s blessing, I threw her—and the rest of them—out.

Her plan backfired spectacularly.

I guess being chewed out by family at my party not only wrecked my parents’ reputation further, but it started a wake-up call.

They eventually stopped listening to Sil.

As I said, my parents went back to church.

They hadn’t gone in two decades.

Maybe it was because I said they’d go to hell.

I can’t say for sure.

But it would feel kind of satisfying if that was the reason.

I don’t think going gives them a do-over for the [ __ ] they’ve done, but I do have a little faith they were at least trying.

My parents came to my house without Dan to personally apologize to me after they’d seen an animated video of my first three posts.

That’s right.

They’d known about this account for a long time.

They knew everything I was saying.

They were unhappy about it, but I figured everyone here deserved the update since it’s anonymous for them.

Watching an animated video of themselves and their own actions made them see what kind of people they really are.

They came over to apologize later.

I’d never seen my father apologize like that to anyone.

He isn’t a good actor.

So it felt genuine.

They fully acknowledged what they did.

They said there’s no excuse.

They admitted they wronged me very badly.

They even described themselves as narcissists.

Then they went on to blame Sil for a lot.

Yeah—they threw her under the bus.

But it’s not like she wasn’t guilty of everything.

My parents had been getting counseling for a while too.

They offered group family counseling.

I declined.

I wasn’t ready.

Dan didn’t apologize to me for some time.

But anytime the past came up, he looked extremely remorseful.

Meanwhile, Dan and Sil’s marriage fell apart.

It wasn’t a crumble.

It was a cascade.

Without me as the scapegoat/black sheep/ATM they could mock or try to squeeze money from anymore—and after the public humiliation of social media, my posts, and the animated video—Sil finally let enough of her toxic out for them to realize she wasn’t who they thought.

Their denial was strong.

Sil’s entitlement was stronger.

She kept looking for other ways to get what she wanted.

She kept bringing up ads for used campers and RVs.

She wanted my parents to buy one to live out of.

She kept doing it no matter how many times they told her to stop.

She said my parents should buy an RV and live on the road like “normal old people.”

That was stupid even for Sil.

My parents suggested the opposite—that Dan and Sil buy a camper themselves.

Sil said she shouldn’t have to.

She lorded her “mom” status over everyone, like she had total parental authority because the kids were all hers.

When she didn’t get her way, she took her baby and disappeared for several days.

They knew she was fine because her phone worked and she responded to texts with short passive aggressive answers.

When she came back, she was more embittered.

Nobody caved.

Sil refused to go to church.

Dan went with my parents and took his kids too—except the youngest, because Sil refused to let him take the baby anywhere.

I don’t go to church.

I believe in God and all that stuff.

I just don’t like church.

Besides, it never did me any good growing up.

A lot of what I learned after that came from Dan and my parents.

[ __ ] really hit the fan when Dan suddenly called out his wife as a cheater.

March.

That shocked us all because we thought he was a complete pushover.

But apparently not.

Not anymore.

You all know how he treated me when I was on his bad side.

His wife wasn’t spared.

He started putting pieces together about her deceit after finally pulling his head out of his ass.

He secretly got DNA tests for all the kids.

Three of them are his.

The youngest—the baby—is not.

For the record, Dan and I both have pretty dark straight hair—almost black.

Same with our parents.

Sil’s hair is straight and pretty dark too.

But the baby’s hair is lighter and a bit curly.

At first Dan thought it was just because of the baby’s age.

Sil kept playing it off, saying it would darken.

It never did.

I guess that was Dan’s biggest clue.

He confronted her with the DNA result in front of our parents.

She broke down sobbing that it was a mistake.

She pulled out all the DARVO—denying, trickle truthing, gaslighting.

Dan had none of it.

He’d done more to find out about her affair than I ever would have thought.

He had detailed proof—phone records, texts from her phone, bank records, the DNA test.

He even identified the man she cheated with, likely the father—because he has much lighter colored curly hair.

The evidence was crystal clear.

Dan said she was so bad at hiding it that once he started looking, he didn’t even have a hard time figuring it out.

My parents demanded Sil leave their house immediately.

That’s when she went psycho.

First yelling.

Then physical.

My mother called the police.

Sil was arrested.

She scratched up Dan and my father quite a bit with her long fake nails.

She even harmed her eldest kid in the crossfire—hitting him hard enough to give him a black eye and a nosebleed when he tried to intervene.

Dan was smart enough to have his phone recording nearby when he confronted her.

The police had all they needed.

Sil’s parents drove over to bail her out.

A couple of days after she was bailed out, they came back for the baby, her stuff, and her car.

Not long after that, Sil showed up at my house.

Apparently I was next on her [ __ ] list.

As soon as I opened the door, she went on a delusional rant.

She called me out about posting.

She said I was the entitled bane of her existence.

I’m not sure, but I think she might have been high on something.

This felt extra crazy.

Her eyes didn’t look right.

She claimed mothers with young children are the most sacred thing in the world.

Then she started yelling that giving up my house shouldn’t have been too much to ask, because supporting the family was the least I could have done.

She said if I had, her family would still be together.

When I tried to talk, she tried to shove me and cover my mouth.

Her hand was poised like she was ready to scratch.

That went about as well as you’d expect.

I told her I’d call the police if she didn’t take her hands off me.

I also told her I had it on my doorbell camera.

The moment she heard “camera,” she started panicking.

Then I verbally savaged her.

I kept at her until she backed off my porch.

I told her she had some gall calling me entitled.

Because she was exactly that.

She didn’t work for anything.

She cheated on her husband.

She got pregnant from her affair partner.

She made my mother do most of the parenting.

She spent Dan’s money until they were in a financial hole.

She acted entitled to my home to the point of trying to steal it.

I called her entitled a thousand times.

I told her she was a greedy [ __ ] blinded by narcissism.

I told her to stop blaming me for her own actions.

And I told her never to show up at my house again.

That was all she needed to hear.

She jumped into her car.

She peeled out and sped off.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me.

Now that she was separated from Dan, I finally went to the police.

I filed a report on her for harassment.

I also reported the assault she’d done on me the year before.

And her putting her hands on me at my porch only added to it.

The police have it all on record.

I gave copies of the video to Dan for his divorce lawyer.

Yes—I filed for a restraining order against Sil.

It was easily granted.

It was obvious she was unhinged.

She hasn’t made any public posts about me since, that I could see.

But that’s because she put her profile on private.

I hope her blame-ship against me has long since sailed.

Either way, she left me alone.

Sil was still with her affair partner during the divorce at the time.

I didn’t know what kind of man he was.

But anyone who monkeys with someone else’s spouse and has a child with them doesn’t have a lot of morals.

During the divorce, Sil admitted that Dan “wasn’t man enough” anymore.

She said he couldn’t afford the lifestyle she wanted.

She genuinely believed she was trophy-wife material.

She said she deserved someone wealthy.

Dan said he pulled a maniacal laugh at her.

He told her she wasn’t near hot enough to be a trophy wife.

He listed other faults too.

Sil ran off humiliated like a child.

She had to live with her parents.

She was forced to work in their family business because Dan wasn’t giving her access to his bank accounts anymore.

She’d already maxed out the credit cards he previously gave her.

She complained about working for her parents despite having a college degree.

But I think they were the only ones who’d employ her anyway, since she had a criminal record and a decade-long gap in her resume.

I heard her parents were severely disappointed too.

That was a rumor.

They could be as bad as her for all I know.

Either way, the [ __ ] show of a divorce took off.

Sil didn’t walk away with much—especially because she had an affair, physically hurt Dan and their eldest, and we’re in an “a fault” state.

She kissed any chance of getting alimony goodbye.

I learned more details about the divorce from Dan.

Dan’s lawyer pulled some strings to get it started as fast as possible, but it cost him.

I don’t know specifics.

Sil was financially backed into a corner.

And you know what happens when you corner an animal.

She fought back.

But the law was not on her side.

Neither were her dwindling finances.

Sil’s parents had to pay for her lawyer.

Not a very good one.

Sil actually brought her affair partner to court to testify on her behalf.

This guy was a real piece of work.

He had a bronze tongue and a charming smile.

He tried to use it to his advantage.

He claimed Sil had been wronged by an incompetent husband, which was why she sought the arms of another man.

He claimed he was ready to take responsibility for his child.

But he also argued Sil would still need alimony for herself and to care for said child.

He remarked that because Dan was still on the birth certificate at the time, alimony should be one of Dan’s obligations.

Dan said the guy used big words and a charming smile, but seemed an extra special kind of stupid.

And coming from Dan, that’s saying something.

The judge was not swayed.

The judge told the bronze-tongued [ __ ] that he was a hypocrite for claiming he’d take responsibility while holding out his hand for money from the man whose marriage he helped ruin.

That shut him up.

Dan was prepared to sue the affair partner for alienation of affection too.

That fell through.

I guess it would have been on Dan to prove how much Sil loved him before the affair.

After her mask came off, we weren’t even sure she ever loved him.

Maybe she just loved having a meal ticket.

Someone pointed out Sil probably kept popping out kids to avoid getting a job.

You may have been right.

Sil tried dragging out the divorce.

Dan’s lawyer and the judge kept it from happening much.

Dan must have seriously lucked out.

He got one of the meanest and most unsympathetic-to-cheaters judges in the state.

And all the evidence against Sil made it easy to keep her from playing the victim.

So instead she let her real [ __ ] self out.

The court had records from Dan and me—police reports, photos, recordings.

A mountain of proof.

She had no way around it.

In the end, Sil struck a deal to end things quick.

Dan takes three-quarters of the credit card debt.

He gets his name off the affair baby’s birth certificate.

Sil walked away with only partial custody of her children.

No alimony.

But also without most of the credit debts she racked up.

Since she was legally employed by her parents, she had income of her own.

She could see her other kids almost whenever she wanted.

She could take them on weekends.

But for whatever reason, she made very few attempts.

She took them out to fast food a few times.

She never took them home with her.

The kids went back to school, so she had even fewer opportunities.

You’d think her parents would want to see their grandkids.

They didn’t contact Dan about it.

They barely saw Dan’s kids before all this too.

Now they may not bother at all.

Do they hate kids?

Even Dan doesn’t know.

Dan really did love his wife.

The betrayal made him hit the bottle hard.

Rewind to the night he confronted her.

He came to me, whiskey bottle in hand.

His face was scratched up.

Bandages.

I freaked out seeing him like that.

Then I berated him for driving under the influence.

It didn’t mean much to him compared to what happened.

We spent a few hours in my camper so we wouldn’t disturb my tenants.

Dan drank whiskey straight from the bottle.

He cried.

He said he was a fool.

He regretted marrying Sil.

Anytime he mentions her now, he just calls her “that [ __ ].”

That’s her nickname now.

Ironically, this time together was the most bonding Dan and I had done in fifteen years.

He didn’t exactly apologize.

But he called himself a shitty human being with terrible taste in women.

He said I at least didn’t make his mistakes.

Despite everything, he’s still my younger brother.

I couldn’t risk letting him drive.

I told him to stay the night.

I managed to take his keys.

I set up the bunk in my camper.

I didn’t want him sleeping in the house.

Just because his wife [ __ ] him over doesn’t mean I suddenly trusted him.

Better he sleep it off in the camper.

We played games.

Watched movies on my portable DVD player.

Poker wasn’t fun with two people.

Old Maid was boring.

Thankfully I had an Uno deck.

An old-school Battleship game.

He really liked those.

It distracted him until he was willing to lay down.

After he ran out of whiskey, he threw up a lot of it in a bucket.

He wasn’t opposed to sleeping in the camper.

He found the idea kind of cool.

He had a lot of questions about how I lived in it so long.

I answered.

Eventually I needed sleep.

I had to be up early.

I left him with the DVD player and a couple of movies.

Maybe he’d stay awake.

Maybe not.

Before leaving for work, I checked in.

He was passed out.

I left ibuprofen and an energy drink on the counter, along with his keys.

I also left a letter explaining he should leave through the backyard gate.

He saw himself out without trouble around 1:30 p.m.

About a month after Sil was kicked out, Dan came to me and asked to borrow my camper.

He admitted he didn’t ask sooner out of pride.

With Sil out of the house, he decided to give up his room for his eldest kid.

He has two girls and a boy.

The boy is the eldest—eight years old now.

The kids had been forced to share a room.

They had curtains up for the boy’s half, but he often slept on the couch to avoid his sisters.

The poor kid was desperate for his own room.

So Dan begged to borrow my camper so his son could have his room.

If Dan could have afforded it, he’d have bought his own camper instead of relying on me.

He said as much.

I hadn’t even gotten the chance to use my camper for actual camping.

But I caved.

I let him use it.

It was for a good cause.

He promised he’d buy his own in time.

I didn’t ask for rent.

Dan was in a financial hole.

The divorce drained him.

And I learned I get better results with family lately by not being spiteful.

I loaded my camper up and set it down in my parents’ backyard.

My father put in a 30-amp breaker so it would have enough power for Dan to run heat and AC.

I do miss the camper.

After living in it so long, it felt like part of me.

But I loaned it out for Dan’s kids.

I warned Dan and my parents they would be financially responsible for any damage.

Also upkeep.

As long as they had it.

I took many timestamped pictures and video of the camper inside and outside before lending it out.

I can prove its condition.

Dan even recorded a video agreeing to my terms.

That’s as good as a contract.

With the drain of the divorce, Dan won’t be able to get a place for years.

But he seems to have no complaints about living in the camper.

I can guess it reminds him of backyard forts when we were kids.

That’s how it felt for me sometimes.

Either way, he’s living in it now.

I got props from extended family for letting him borrow it.

A lot of them call me the good brother.

Dan doesn’t deserve it.

But getting rid of Sil was a great first step in mending the family as a whole.

I still have little care for my parents or Dan after how they treated me.

But I’m not letting Dan’s kids suffer for it.

Those kids have warmed up to me.

They’re happy to see me when I come over or when they visit.

I even babysat a few times.

Without their mother’s toxic around, they’ve become much nicer kids.

Especially to me.

I’m actually getting to enjoy being an uncle.

My mother is still doing the bulk of the parenting.

She’s been acting as nice as possible to stay on my good side.

My father often looks defeated in my presence.

But otherwise he’s been stoically quiet or generally nice.

He won’t talk to me much.

That’s leagues better than before.

I’m not letting my guard down, either way.

At the same time as the divorce, Dan sued to have his name removed from the birth certificate of the baby that wasn’t his.

Sil didn’t want to change it.

It meant no more child support from Dan.

But there was a court-ordered paternity test for the identified father.

I was prepared to laugh if it turned out he wasn’t the father either.

He was.

Dan’s lawyer had a long talk with Sil’s lawyer.

Sil had no leg to stand on.

Dan was ready to make things worse for her.

She didn’t have money to fight.

She agreed to changing the birth certificate.

The bronze-tongued loudmouth who knocked her up did “man up” to take financial responsibility.

But he didn’t stay with Sil.

He contacted Dan through his lawyer to say he broke up with “that [ __ ]” and he wouldn’t bother Dan again.

I checked that guy’s social media after Dan linked it.

He was upset that he was financially responsible for a child he never planned.

He said he was “too young” for this.

From what Dan’s lawyer found, the guy is just over 40.

He looks younger.

But he’s not young.

Shortly after, he put his profile on private.

Sil did too.

So I didn’t have more info.

It felt like the end.

Sil was out of our hair.

My parents and brother made a real effort to be better.

I was surprisingly happy as an uncle.

My house was still my house.

Sil saw my posts.

She can’t contact me except through a lawyer because of the restraining order.

She likely can’t afford a lawyer.

So she bitched to Dan.

She demanded Dan tell me to delete my account.

Dan read my recent posts.

He no longer cared.

He said they serve as a reminder of the prick he used to be.

He’s not losing sleep.

Besides, I still helped him out despite everything.

So he wasn’t about to get upset.

My parents also tried to treat Dan and me more equally when I’m around.

My father is still a man of few words around me.

Someone pointed out that changing now after so long means he doesn’t know how to connect anymore.

I think they’re right.

I don’t mind.

My mother developed a habit of apologizing for every little thing around me.

Dan told me she and my father have been reamed by extended family and their counselor.

Now my mother feels like she needs to apologize for everything.

It’s a stark contrast.

We didn’t talk before about Sil’s opinion on Dan borrowing my camper so his son could have their old bedroom.

Like a stereotypical bully, she looked down on him.

She mocked him.

She said he was living like a bum.

Dan took it in stride.

He asked if she was done.

He knew that’s exactly how she’d react.

He didn’t care.

She’s borderline dead to him.

Her insults bounced.

He pointed out he was living in the camper because he put his kids ahead of himself—so his son could have his own room.

Something Sil never did.

She weaponized her kids and pregnancies to avoid work and emotionally blackmail people.

Dan asked her to remind him how that was working out.

That was early in the divorce.

I’m sure you can guess her reaction.

Tantrum.

Sil threw a fit about my recent posts.

No one bothered to contact me on her behalf.

So she had to live with well-deserved shame.

She tried acting nicer to Dan lately.

Grass isn’t greener living with her parents.

Dan tolerates her only as the mother of his children.

Nothing more.

He will never take her back.

He says he can never look at her the same.

The very thought of her turns him off emotionally.

So she has no chance of reconciliation.

I have no new info on the affair partner.

His profile is locked.

Sil’s is locked.

Likely forever.

Then something happened in the middle of the night—very early morning on the 1st.

I suspect it was Sil.

But the person my cameras recorded was wearing layers of heavy sweats.

Their face was wrapped up.

Big glasses covered their eyes.

You couldn’t tell if they were a man or woman.

They came on foot too.

No car.

No plates.

They did look about Sil’s height.

But that isn’t much.

If it was Sil, she knew about my cameras.

Covering her face and body for petty eggy revenge was probably the smartest thing she’s done in years.

Way to finally put that college degree to use.

The egger showed up around 3:00 a.m.

I was dead asleep.

I didn’t hear anything.

Whoever it was threw about a dozen eggs all over my beat-up old pickup.

They didn’t do more damage.

They were gone in a flash.

I didn’t see the mess until I was leaving for work.

I ran my truck through a local car wash during lunch.

That took most of the egg off.

I scrubbed more after work.

Egg isn’t good for paint.

But my truck is from the 90s.

It doesn’t look mint anyway.

I took photos.

I filed a police report.

I gave them the CCTV footage.

So far, nothing came of it.

There was no real damage besides irritation and $15 at the car wash.

If Sil did it, she was smart enough to only throw eggs and not key my paint or slash tires, so insurance wouldn’t be involved.

I don’t think much will come of the report.

The cops seemed to dismiss it as a prank by a teenager.

I get they’re overworked.

But at least the report keeps a paper trail in case of future incidents.

I waited to post because I wondered if anything else would happen.

Nothing did.

Peace and quiet again.

I asked around the neighborhood about cameras.

Responses ranged from “We don’t have cameras” to “It was Halloween, people pull stupid pranks, let it go.”

The few helpful people told me I waited too long.

Footage auto-deleted.

So basically, the egger got away.

If it was Sil, I’m guessing she had to walk about half a mile in those sweats just to avoid her car being spotted.

It wouldn’t surprise me if she questioned whether it was worth the effort.

Oh well.

I guess I’ll wait and see if the egger comes back next year.

I did hand out printed pictures of the egger.

I even taped a few up on posts.

Now people in my neighborhood are aware.

The tenants renting the two rooms have stayed out of it.

I don’t blame them.

It isn’t their problem.