My own mother threw me out of our flat because she cared for my stepfather more.
I lived with my dad until I was five, and honestly, those were the happiest memories from my childhood. When he died, Mum stopped putting much effort into looking after me and seemed set on starting a new life for herself. By the time I turned eight, shed married my stepfathera man obsessed with controlling everything I did, as well as Mum. My world changed overnight.
We lived strictly by his rules. Hed assign all the chores but rarely lifted a finger himself as he was always too shattered from work. Mum forced me to do whatever he demanded, clearly terrified of him kicking off and starting an argument.
When I became a teenager, I began to rebel. Coming home from school every day only to cook dinner, clean the flat, wash my stepfathers car, and do whatever other jobs he dreamed up, while the loved-up couple lounged in front of the telly drove me round the bend. My protests were met with a slap and another rant about how ungrateful I was for everything they did for me.
Realistically, all I received was a roof over my head and foodwhich I only got for keeping the flat spotless. If I ever asked for something like a club, extra tuition, or the gym, theyd just laugh and say I should earn my own money first. Even new clothes were rare. If by chance I was bought a new jacket or pair of trainers, theyd gloat about it for weeks afterwards.
When I turned eighteen and finished my A levels, my mum suddenly told me it was time to move out and get my own flat. University, she said, wasnt for people like usI was to get a job immediately because there was no longer a place for me at home.
Were from a tiny town and its tough finding work there. And beyond that, I didn’t want to spend my whole life working dead-end jobs. I hoped that maybe if my parents saw me studying hard, theyd change their minds. But Mum kept on at me, so instead of revising for my exams over the next three months, I waited tables from 10am to midnight, earning next to nothing, barely any tips. It was only just enough to cover two months rent, and I had no clue how Id afford to eat. I missed most of my classes and my results suffered for it. There was no way Id get into a decent university, and its not like anyone wouldve helped with the fees anyway.
That summer, I quit my job and started looking for something with better pay. My mum and stepdad asked me daily when Id finally be gone. Eventually, they simply told me to leave.
I tried working in a cleaning supplies shop, but within a week Id been made sick by the chemicals. When I tried to go back, they said theyd found another girl. I kept searching for different jobs, but couldnt support myself on my own wages.
My birthday came around, right in the middle of summer. My aunt, whod always been kind to me, popped in for a visit. I hadnt told anyone what was really happening, but when she pulled me aside and asked if I was all right, I just broke down. She didnt hesitatehelped me pack my things that day and took me to live with her. Id finally left my parents flat for good; somehow, it was a relief.
My aunt helped me find proper work in the city. I started in a bookshop, which meant I could keep studying at the same time. The next year, I passed my A levels and got myself into a university. My aunt was incredibleshe was always there when my parents tried to guilt-trip me again, always offering her support, never letting me wallow in dark thoughts.
Time passed, I finished my degree, found a proper job, and life began to change for the better. Now, I make sure to look after my aunt as she did for me. I take her on lovely holidays, treat her to special things. Im forever grateful she didnt leave me to struggle alone when things were at their lowest.
