My Family Blocked Me on Moving Day

The day Dad moved into the new house with my stepmother Paula and my stepbrother Connor, they left me behind in the old apartment, all alone. I called him and told him the door lock was broken and the gas alarm inside wouldn't stop going off. Paula just sneered in the background. "Funny how the lock works every other day, but breaks the moment we're celebrating Connor's move, isn't it?" Dad was silent for a few seconds, then hung up on me. Then he texted me the new address. "You're twenty-four. Stop pulling these stunts for attention." "Deal with it yourself, then come over. Don't make your brother feel unwelcome!" When I tried calling again, it went straight to voicemail. He'd blocked my number. That night, my stepbrother unwrapped presents in the new house. Dad turned the room that was supposed to be mine into a gaming room and told the relatives I had a temper and refused to come. The next day, when he found out I hadn't shown up for work, all he did was post one line in the family group chat: "Threatening your family by going missing is childish." What he didn't know was that I would never see that message. 01 "Hailey, the relatives are all waiting for us at the new house for dinner, so we're leaving the cleanup here to you." My stepmother, Paula, stood in the doorway, her expensive crocodile-skin purse in hand, wearing a smile that was all warmth and concern. "Don't take this the wrong way, sweetie. I only asked because you're always so efficient with chores." "Scrape all the old grease off the kitchen, mop the floors twice, and haul out the junk we don't want." "We'll get out of your way. Wouldn't want to keep you from getting enough rest before work tomorrow." She sounded concerned, yet she'd dumped every last chore on me. Connor gave the front door an impatient kick. "Mom, why are you wasting your breath on her? Let's go already. I haven't even tried my new computer." Before he left, Connor kicked the lock hard, forcing the external manual override bolt down until it jammed in place. My father, Raymond Lane, stood in the stairwell, pointing at me. "Make it quick. If this place isn't spotless, don't bother coming to dinner at the new house tonight." "You're the older one. Act like it for once. Stop moping around and ruining the mood for the whole family." The door slammed shut. Then I was alone in the old apartment, surrounded by trash and dust. Resigned, I picked up a rag and headed toward the old kitchen with its strange smell. The moment I got near the gas stove, a thick, acrid stench of rotten eggs hit me square in the face. The gas alarm suddenly began to shriek. My face went white, and I immediately reached for the main gas valve. But the valve's threading had already been wrecked by force. The valve had come off entirely, and high-pressure gas was gushing out through the opening. The toxic gas spread quickly through the cramped apartment. I covered my mouth and nose and stumbled toward the front door. I pressed down hard on the handle. The door didn't budge. I twisted the manual override knob inside with everything I had, but the smart panel only flashed a harsh red warning: "Mechanical failure. Security lockout engaged." Breathing grew harder and harder. My throat burned, and tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I staggered to the window, only to find its latch jammed just as tight. It wouldn't open no matter what I did. My vision was going dark in waves. I pulled out my phone and, with shaking fingers, dialed Dad. It rang a long time before anyone picked up. The line was filled with the deafening blasts of confetti cannons and relatives laughing as they flattered him. "Dad, help me..." My voice was raw. Every word felt like it was tearing my chest apart. "The gas is leaking everywhere in the old apartment. The lock's broken, and I can't get out. Please, send help..." For a beat, the other end went quiet. Then Paula's snide voice came through, loud and clear. "Raymond, just listen to her." "The moment Connor moves into the new house, she has to pull something like this. Does she hate us that much, or is she just trying to make your day miserable?" "Funny how the lock works every other day, but breaks the moment we're celebrating Connor's move, isn't it?" Raymond scoffed, impatience thick in his voice. "Hailey Lane, you're twenty-four. Stop pulling these stunts for attention!" "If the lock's broken, call a locksmith yourself. Quit pretending you're dying just to scare everyone." I collapsed to my knees at the door, pounding on the metal with all my strength. "No, Dad. The alarm won't stop. I really can't breathe. Please, I'm begging you, call 911..." "Shut up!" Raymond roared. "If you're going to act grown-up, then see it through instead of bothering me! Deal with it yourself, then come over. Don't spoil this for your brother!" The line went dead. He had hung up on me without another word. I called again, but it went straight to voicemail. He'd blocked my number. The alarm's red light flashed wildly. I clawed at the door with the last of my strength. My nails split, and blood smeared across the cold metal. The darkness closed in. The last of the air was squeezed from my lungs. At last, I lay limp beside the door, eyes wide, staring at the steel barrier that would never open. My body slowly went stiff and cold. But soon, a strange weightlessness washed over me. I rose out of that bruised, twisted corpse. I saw my nails, every one of them bent back and shredded, and two ghastly dark-brown streaks of blood on the carpet. Before I could take in the horror of my own body, an invisible force seized me and dragged my soul toward the bright, festive new house. 02 Inside the opulent mansion, the crystal chandelier cast a dizzying glare. I hovered in midair over the living room. The relatives sat gathered around the sofas, gushing over the brand-new luxury massage chair in the center of the living room. Uncle Doug ran his hand over the genuine leather and beamed. "Raymond, this chair had to cost ten grand, right? And it's so comfortable." Raymond was grinning ear to ear, ruffling Connor's hair with pride written all over his face. "You bet. Connor bought it for me with the spending money he'd saved." "This boy's been thoughtful since he was little. Nothing like his useless sister." Paula put on a modest act beside them, but the smugness in her eyes gave her away. "You're too kind, Doug. Connor just saw how hard his dad works and insisted on showing his appreciation." I floated overhead, watching it all coldly. That massage chair? I'd bought it to help with Raymond's herniated disc. I'd gritted my teeth through two part-time jobs and lived on cheap bread and canned food for six straight months to save up for it. I'd ordered it more than half a year in advance, timed precisely so it would arrive at the new house today. And now all the credit had gone to Connor. I turned and drifted toward the hallway, wanting to see the south-facing bedroom I'd been looking forward to for so long. For that room, I had agreed to every unreasonable demand Paula made and shouldered all the housework for three years. But when I passed through the wall, what I found was a futuristic gaming room. A massive curved monitor, an expensive mechanical keyboard, walls plastered with game posters. My bed was gone. So was my wardrobe. There wasn't a single trace of me anywhere. My worn-out bunny slippers had been tossed like garbage into a corner of the hallway outside. Connor sat in the gaming chair playing games, cursing and slamming the desk. Dinner began, and the dining table was covered with food. Uncle Doug took a sip of red wine and glanced around. "Where's Hailey? We're celebrating a family move, and she's the only one missing. That's so inconsiderate." Raymond's face hardened, and he slammed his knife and fork down in front of everyone. "She's too old to listen to anyone!" "She's throwing a tantrum at the old apartment over a simple move. Just ignore her!" "Two days without food and she'll come crawling back to apologize. She really thinks the world revolves around her." Paula's eyes reddened right on cue. She dabbed at them with a tissue, her voice catching. "It's all my fault. If I'd just held my tongue, Hailey wouldn't be upset." "Raymond, if Hailey hates us that much, Connor and I will move out tomorrow and rent somewhere. We'd never want her to feel wronged." Raymond's heart just about broke. He pulled Paula in by the shoulders. "Nonsense! This is your home. Connor is my only son and the heir I've chosen. No one is driving either of you out!" He shot to his feet, raised his glass, and declared to the room. "Everyone here is my witness!" "That ungrateful Hailey gets nothing! Every property I own, every dollar I've saved, all of it goes to Connor. I won't leave her a single cent!" "And if she won't come apologize, she's not welcome through my door again!" The relatives chimed in one after another, praising Raymond's decisiveness and cursing me for not knowing how good I had it. I looked coldly at the father I had once tried so desperately to please. How pathetic. All these years, whenever Paula played the victim, Raymond's hatred for me deepened with every word she said. In Paula's honeyed version of events, I was the vicious older sister who envied her brother. No matter how hard I tried, I could never matter to Raymond as much as Connor, who never lifted a finger. The dinner ended, and the relatives went their separate ways. Connor went back to the gaming room and started up his livestream. He grabbed a stack of gold award certificates from competitions I'd worked so hard to win throughout school, the ones Mom had saved for me. He piled them under his feet and laughed into the camera. "Guys, we moved into the new house today. Feels awesome to finally kick that eyesore of a sister to the curb." "Look, her trashy certificates make a perfect footrest." 03 Early the next morning, sunlight streamed into the new house. Raymond was at the dining table sipping freshly ground coffee when his phone rang without warning. The caller ID showed my supervisor's number. He frowned and picked up. The supervisor sounded anxious. "Mr. Lane, Hailey didn't come in today, and we haven't been able to reach her. Do you know where she is?" "We have a major project presentation today. An unexcused absence means docked pay." Raymond scoffed, his tone hard. "Whether she shows up is her business. Don't call me about it." "She's got quite the temper. She's off sulking somewhere. Just dock her pay. She'll be in tomorrow, guaranteed." He hung up before the supervisor could say another word. Across the table, Paula handed Raymond a slice of toast spread with jam, her voice soft and sweet. "Raymond, look at Hailey now. She's not even showing up for work. She's getting more spoiled by the day." Raymond's face darkened, and he banged his coffee cup down on the table. To preserve his absolute authority as a father, he opened the family group chat and quickly typed out a message. "Threatening your family by going missing is childish. If you're not back at the new house by tonight, don't ever come through my door again!" After sending it, he threw himself back against his chair. My soul stood right beside him. I stared at that vicious message, unable to make a sound, with nothing left inside me but a boundless grief. He didn't care whether I lived or died. All he cared about was his pride. Just then, the housekeeper came out of the spare bedroom dragging two ratty bags. "Ma'am, what should I do with these odds and ends from the old apartment?" Paula walked over and nudged a bag open with the tip of her shoe. A rusty tin box tumbled out. It was the only keepsake my mother had left me. Inside were her old photos and the doll she'd sewn for me herself when I was little. Paula covered her nose, her face twisting in disgust. "Why did this trash even make the trip? It's just taking up space." "Take it down to the dumpster. This house needs its bad energy cleared out." I threw myself at it like a madwoman. I wanted to wrap my arms around that box, to protect the last of my mother. But my hands passed through the housekeeper, through the box. I couldn't hold on to anything. All I could do was watch as the housekeeper tossed the box that held everything I had left of Mom into the reeking dumpster as if it were nothing. Paula returned to the sofa, picked up a delicate slice of matcha mousse cake, and took a bite. "Connor's still asleep. Wake him in a bit for some dessert." Raymond and Paula sat in the bright, spacious living room, enjoying a cozy morning. Raymond's phone suddenly rang again. This time, the ringtone was rapid and shrill. Irritated, he picked it up and glanced at the caller ID. It was the property manager from the old apartment complex. 04 The moment the call connected, the property manager's urgent voice came through the speaker, loud enough for Paula to hear from the far corner of the living room. "Mr. Lane! Something's wrong with your apartment!" "Your smart lock system has sent seventeen high-temperature and forced-lockdown alerts to our terminal over the past two days." "The whole stairwell reeks of something foul now. The neighbors have been calling nonstop to complain. You need to get over here and see what's going on!" Raymond froze for a second, then slammed his palm on the dining table in sheer exasperation. He turned to Paula and Connor, who had just woken up and come out of his room, and sneered. "See! I knew that ungrateful brat was up to no good!" "First she breaks the alarm, and now she's dumping rotten fish and meat around the apartment." "All this drama just to force me to come pick her up!" Paula sidled up at once, pouring fuel on the fire. "Raymond, she's gone way too far this time. Messing with building equipment? If the police get involved, how will that look on you?" Veins bulged on Raymond's forehead. He immediately called up several relatives. "Doug, Frank, come with me to the old apartment right now!" "Today everyone's going to see with their own eyes just how long Hailey plans to keep up this shameless act!" Half an hour later. A whole crowd of them descended on the old building. Angry neighbors had already gathered outside the building, along with sweating property staff holding their noses. The higher they climbed, the stronger the foul stench became. The relatives covered their noses, grumbling. "God, that reek. What on earth is in there?" Raymond, face like thunder, strode up to the bolted steel front door. He took a deep breath and bellowed through the narrow gap around the door in his usual high-and-mighty tone. "Hailey Lane! Haven't you put on enough of a show!" "You stink up the whole place over your wounded pride, then drag property management and the neighbors in to watch the circus!" "Open this door right now and come out here and apologize to everyone!" He pounded on the metal door, the bangs echoing. But no matter how he roared, only silence answered from inside. No footsteps. No crying. Only the faint, intermittent beeping of the failing alarm echoed through the empty stairwell like a death knell. Uncle Doug frowned. "Raymond, what if something's actually happened? That smell isn't rotten meat. It's more like..." "What could possibly happen!" Raymond cut him off roughly. "She knows exactly how much we care about appearances. She's hiding in there waiting for me to cave!" He wheeled on the property manager and roared at him. "Get a locksmith here now and force this door open! I swear I'm going to break her legs today!" The property manager wiped cold sweat from his brow and pointed at the maintenance man standing nearby, whose face was ghost-white. The maintenance man held a diagnostic device hooked up to the smart lock's external terminal. His hands were shaking badly, the red glow of the screen reflecting the terror in his eyes. "Mr. Lane..." The maintenance man swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "This lock has been dead for two days. It overheated and drained its battery." He looked up, eyes locked on Raymond.