I’ve always been the one in my family whom everyone counts on. But when I finally did something for myself, my sister turned it into a nightmare I never saw coming. My name is Rachel.
I’m 32 years old. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been the responsible one in my family. I rarely spoiled myself, until recently, when I bought a new car.
But then my sister borrowed and abused it, forcing karma’s hand. When other kids were out riding their bikes or watching cartoons, I started working, having learned a long time ago that if I wanted something, I had to earn it. I was babysitting the neighbor’s kids at 14.
By 16, I had a part-time job as a cashier at a grocery store. I juggled school, jobs, and college applications while saving every dime I could. Nothing came easy, but I never complained.
I was proud of being the independent one. Then there’s Melissa. She’s 28 and lives like life is a party someone else should clean up after.
We grew up in the same house but under very different rules. Melissa could cry her way out of anything. If I had a new toy, she’d want the same one; if I wore a new dress, she needed it too.
Even if I got a new pair of shoes, she’d get the same pair in two colors. I’d have to save for three months for a concert ticket, and she’d whine until our parents just handed her the money. She was never cruel, but she was careless, and she always expected someone else to bail her out.
Sadly, our parents always chose the easy way out when it came to parenting her or instilling in her the values they did in me. They usually gave in to her wants just to avoid fights. My younger sister was spoiled, yes, but still—she’s my sister, and I love her.
Things changed a little when Melissa had her daughter, Lily. That little girl is the light of my life. Lily turned me into mush from the moment I held her.
She’s five now, always smiling and singing, and when she says “Auntie Rachel,” my heart just melts. I’d do just about anything for her, and Melissa knows that. It’s a weakness that she uses against me.
I think the fact that I couldn’t have children of my own endeared me even more to Lily. I can talk about my niece for days. She is sweet, bright, and has the biggest brown eyes that light up when she’s excited.
No matter how difficult Melissa could be, Lily made everything feel worth it. Little did I know that my sister would use the love I had for her daughter to take advantage of me in a big way, and then she threw it all right back in my face. Earlier this year, after nearly a decade of grinding through jobs and skipping vacations, I finally reached a goal I’d been working toward for a long time: I bought my dream car.
Now, I’m not one of those people who like to show off or need the most extreme things to get people’s attention. So, I didn’t choose a luxury-brand car or anything flashy, but it was brand-new. It was cherry red, safe, reliable, roomy enough for road trips—and all mine.
It was the first big thing I had ever bought just for myself, a bit of a reward for all my hard work. I even gave it a name: Rosie. Silly, I know, but after driving a clunky old hand-me-down for years, Rosie was a symbol of everything I’d earned.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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