I wasn’t trying to eaves drop, but their voices carried.
“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t ruin things for you again. If he won’t share, we’ll figure something out.”
Aaron laughed low and smug.
“Yeah, he thinks he’s in control, but he’s not. Watch.”
I went back to my room, fists clenched.
That was the moment I realized this wasn’t about a car anymore.
It wasn’t even about a weekend trip.
It was about years of being dismissed, years of favoritism, years of being the scapegoat.
They didn’t see me as family.
They saw me as a tool, an obstacle, or worse, a joke.
And while I sat there on my bed, staring at the keys I had guarded so fiercely, I started to wonder just how far they’d go to prove their point.
A week later, I learned just how far they were willing to go.
It was a Friday night, and I had just come home from work exhausted.
I parked my car in the driveway, double checked that it was locked, and even brought the keys into my room.
Paranoia had become second nature after that morning showdown.
I thought maybe things had calmed down.
Aaron was quieter than usual around me.
Mom was giving me the silent treatment instead of arguing, and dad just looked at me with that familiar disappointment face.
I told myself maybe if I just stayed out of their way, it would blow over.
But the uneasy feeling never left.
The next morning, I woke up to an empty driveway.
My first thought was that maybe I had parked on the street without realizing it.
But no.
The street was empty, too.
My car was gone.
My stomach dropped.
I tore through my room looking for the keys, only to find the lanyard missing from my desk.
My pulse shot through the roof.
I ran into the kitchen where mom was humming softly while making breakfast like it was any other day.
“Where’s Aaron?” I demanded.
She didn’t even look up.
“He’s out.”
“With what?” I snapped. “Because my car isn’t here.”
That got her attention.
She turned slowly, spatula in hand, and said in the calst, most infuriating voice I’ve ever heard.
“Don’t overreact, Lucas. He borrowed it. He had plans with his friends.”
I felt like the floor was ripped out from under me.
“You gave him my keys.”
“They were just sitting on your desk,” she said with a shrug. “Honestly, you shouldn’t be so possessive. He promised to bring it back Sunday night.”
My vision blurred.
“You had no right. You went into my room and took them.”
“Don’t yell at me in my own house,” she snapped, suddenly defensive. “I’m his mother and I’m yours, too. If you won’t support your brother, then I’ll step in.”
It felt like a slap.
She didn’t just dismiss me this time.
She actively enabled him.
She broke my trust in the one place I thought I still had control.
My own space.
My own belongings.
I called Aaron immediately, but of course, he didn’t answer.