Nathan is in deep trouble. His dad has remarried, and his new step-siblings invaded his space and ruined his cherished belongings. Nathan feels trapped and ignored in his own home. Tired of it all, he quietly plans a bittersweet revenge. But will Nathan’s actions bring the peace he longs for?
Living with my step-siblings was tough. Penny, 16, Peter, 11, and William, 10, didn’t understand boundaries. They always went through my things and even broke my Xbox!
The thing is, Dad married my stepmom two months ago, and nothing’s been nice ever since that happened. We have a three-bedroom house.
Earlier, Dad and I each had our rooms with bathrooms, and the smaller room was Dad’s study.
Now, Penny is living in my room, and I’m stuck sharing the small room with Peter and William. All my books, my telescope, and other stuff are packed in the basement because there’s no space.
One day, I noticed my watch was missing. It wasn’t just any watch — it was my mom’s gift to me before she died of cancer. That watch meant everything to me.
I searched everywhere in our cramped room. I checked under the beds, behind the dresser, and even in the closet. Nothing. My frustration grew, and one day, weeks later, I decided to look in the basement. Maybe, just maybe, the boys had taken it there while playing.
I went down the creaky stairs, the basement dimly lit by a single bulb. My heart pounded as I moved boxes and old toys around. And then, I saw it.
My watch was on the floor, but it wasn’t the same. The glass was cracked, and the hands were frozen. I picked it up, feeling a lump in my throat.
How could they be so careless? This was all I had of Mom.
I clenched the broken watch in my hand and went upstairs to find Penny.
She was in the living room, scrolling through her phone.
“Penny, I need to talk to you,” I said firmly.
She looked up, annoyed. “What’s your problem now, weirdo?”
“Your brothers took my watch. They broke it!” I said, showing her the damage.
“Well, don’t order them around. They’re MY brothers, so you have no right to tell them what they should be doing, and they’re just kids,” she said casually.
I was stunned. “This watch was from Mom, Penny! That’s all I have left of her!”
“So? I don’t care. It’s just a watch, after all,” she said, not even looking up from her phone.
“It’s not just a watch,” I muttered, but she wasn’t listening. I could feel tears coming to my eyes.
I didn’t want her to see me crying, so I walked away, feeling more alone than ever. Sitting on the bed in my small room, I held the broken watch and cried like a small child.
This house didn’t feel like home, and I missed Mom more than ever. All I wanted was a bit of respect, a bit of space. But here, even that seemed too much to ask for.
I didn’t want her to see me crying, so I walked away, feeling more alone than ever. Sitting on the bed in my small room, I held the broken watch and cried like a small child.
This house didn’t feel like home, and I missed Mom more than ever. All I wanted was a bit of respect, a bit of space. But here, even that seemed too much to ask for.
Before my step-siblings moved in, I had a $100 allowance. Now, Penny gets $75, I get $35, and Peter and William each get $30. They didn’t love or respect me, and I was kicked out of my own room. And now this?
I knew I had to talk to Dad and Charlotte about what was happening. This couldn’t go on. That evening, I found them in the living room.
“Dad, Charlotte, can we talk?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Dad muted the TV and looked at me. “What’s up, buddy?”
“It’s about Peter and William,” I said, my head hung low. “They keep going through my stuff. They broke Mom’s watch. I told Penny what happened, and she just doesn’t care.”
I showed them the broken watch, hoping they’d understand how much it meant to me.
“It’s about Peter and William,” I said, my head hung low. “They keep going through my stuff. They broke Mom’s watch. I told Penny what happened, and she just doesn’t care.”
I showed them the broken watch, hoping they’d understand how much it meant to me.
Charlotte frowned slightly but didn’t say anything, and Dad sighed.
“Nathan, I know it’s hard adjusting to this new situation. But we all need to make sacrifices in a family,” he said.
I felt my frustration rising. “Sacrifices? Dad, it’s not just about the watch. It’s everything. I don’t have any personal space. They don’t respect my things, and I feel like you’re not hearing me.”
“Nathan, they’re young,” Charlotte chimed in. “They don’t understand boundaries like you do. You need to be patient.”
“Patient? I’ve been patient! But nothing changes. I’m losing more than just space. I’m losing the connection we used to have, Dad. We never talk like we used to!”
Dad rubbed his temples. “Nathan, we’re all trying our best. It’s not easy for any of us.”
“I get that, but I need you to see how much this is affecting me. I miss Mom, and now I feel like I’m losing you too!” I cried.
Charlotte’s expression softened, but she stayed quiet.
Dad looked at me with a mix of frustration and pity. “Nathan, we can’t change the situation right now. We have to make the best of it.”
“So, I just have to suck it up and deal with it?”
“Yes, Nathan. That’s what being part of a family means sometimes.”
My heart sank. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be happy about it,” I said and left the room in anger.
Back in my cramped bedroom, I stared at the broken watch. It seemed like no one understood or cared about what I was going through. I missed Mom, and I missed the days when Dad actually listened to me.
It was time to teach my parents and step-siblings a lesson.
I decided to write about what I was going through and share it online. Maybe, just maybe, someone out there would understand.
I poured my heart into the post:
I’m Nathan, 15 years old, and I feel like a stranger in my own home. Since my mom died of cancer, everything’s changed. I now share a cramped room with my stepbrothers, Peter and William, who don’t respect my space. They broke my mom’s watch, the only thing I have left of her.
I tried talking to Dad and my stepmom, but they don’t get it. They tell me I need to make sacrifices, that this is what family is. But I feel lost and forgotten. Most nights, I think about running away. But I know life on the street would be even harder. I’m just so tired of feeling alone and unheard. Does anyone else feel this way?
I hit “post” and waited. The next morning, I checked the post and was shocked. The response was overwhelming.
“Your parents need to wake up and see what they’re doing to you,” one wrote.
“No one should feel this alone in their own home,” another had said.
A few days later, I decided to show Dad and Charlotte the post. I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. I walked up to their room, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination.
“Dad, Charlotte, can we talk?” I asked, holding my phone.
Dad looked up from his book. “What’s it now, Nathan?”
“I need you to read something,” I said, handing them my phone. “Please.”
They started reading, their faces growing more serious with each line. I could see the emotions shifting from confusion to concern. When they reached the part about me thinking of running away, Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. Dad’s face went pale.
“Is this how you’ve been feeling, Nathan?” Dad asked, his voice shaky.
“Yes, it is. I feel like no one listens to me. I’m so tired of feeling alone,” I replied, my voice trembling.
Charlotte broke down in tears. “We had no idea, Nathan. We thought we were doing our best, but we’ve clearly been blind to what you’re going through.”
Dad put his arm around her, looking at me with sorrow in his eyes. “I’m sorry, son. We should have taken you more seriously. We’ll make amends. We’ll talk and figure out how to make things better.”
I showed them the comments, too. “Look at what people are saying. They see it, why couldn’t you?”
Dad sighed, deeply pained. “Nathan, we were so focused on everyone adjusting we didn’t see how much you were hurting. I’m sorry, really. We’ll do better.”
For the first time in a long while, things started to get better.
After our heartfelt talk, everyone helped turn the basement into my own private space.
One evening, while painting the walls, Penny came up to me. “Nathan, can we talk?” she asked.
“Sure, what’s up?” I asked, wiping paint off my hands.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve been really hostile towards you, and I’m sorry. I guess I never really dealt with my feelings about our parents’ marriage. I felt like I was being replaced by you.”
Her words surprised me. “I didn’t know you felt that way, Penny. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn’t see yours.”
She nodded in tears. “It’s been hard for all of us. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you.”
I reached out and hugged her. “Thanks, Penny. That means a lot. We’re all struggling, but maybe we can get through this together.”
Even Peter and William seemed to understand the importance of respecting my space. We also had a talk about allowance distribution to make things fairer.
Dad sat us down and explained the new plan. “Penny, you’ll get $60, Nathan, $50, and Peter and William, you’ll each get $30. We want everyone to feel valued and treated fairly.”
Home finally started to feel like home again.
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one where a woman took brilliant revenge when her husband abandoned her and their kids for his mistress.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
