“You can call me Dad.”
“Mum, are you seriously taking his side again?” Emily stood facing her mother, lips trembling as tears threatened to spill.
“Emily, what do you mean ‘again’? And anyway, youre in the wrong here, love!” retorted Irene, the girls mother.
“Mum, those were my groceries! We had an agreement, and Im not exactly rolling in it to feed some stranger!” Emily snapped, barely holding back her frustration.
“Ungrateful little thing! I raised you, fed you, and now youre begrudging a bit of cheese and ham?” came the half-slurred shout from the living room, where Nigel, Emilys stepfather, was lounging.
“Exactly! Shame on you!” Irene chimed in.
Emily buried her face in her hands. The tears won. Lately, her life had turned into a proper nightmare.
Emilys father had left when she was barely three. As Irene later explained, she and her ex, William, had never really loved each other. A brief fling led to pregnancy, and Williams parents pressured him into marriage. But without love, the marriage crumbled within two yearsthen William simply packed his bags and vanished.
Irene devoted herself to raising Emily. They managed just fineuntil Emily turned twelve. One morning, Irene sat her down for a “serious chat.”
“Emily, love, youre old enough to understand” Irene began carefully.
“Uh-huh,” Emily replied, already wary.
“Ive met someone. Were getting married, and hell be moving in soon. Hope you dont mind.”
Emily didnt exactly jump for joy, but she didnt kick up a fuss either. Plenty of kids at school had stepdadsit wasnt the end of the world.
But the moment Nigel stepped into their flat, Emily took an instant dislike to himhis looks, his manner, his whole vibe.
“You can call me Dad,” Nigel announced grandly.
Emily nodded but never once used the word. From day one, Nigel made it clear he wasnt about to spoil her. “Had it tough myself, didnt I?” hed say. Life under Nigels rule was miserable.
“Mum, Im off to the library with Lucy, then we might go for a walk,” Emily said one day.
“Oi, listen to little Miss High-and-Mighty! Irene, youre letting this brat walk all over you!” Nigel barked.
“Im not a brat!” Emily shot back while Irene silently scrubbed a pan.
“Dont you backchat me! Youve got one hourlibrary, walk, home. Not back by three, youll be standing in the corner, no supper. Youll learn some respect!” Nigel ranted.
“Mum, Im going out!” Emily insisted.
“Listen to your father, love. Hes head of the house,” Irene murmured.
From then on, Emily lived for Nigels business tripsthose rare, blissful days when she could breathe, invite friends over, and just exist without walking on eggshells.
Six years dragged by. Emily turned eighteen, got into uni, and dreamed of freedomstudent housing, finally escaping the toxic flat. But reality hit hard:
“Dorms only for out-of-town students. No spots left,” they told her.
“Shouldve gone to uni in bloody Manchester,” Emily muttered, trudging home.
By mid-September, shed befriended two course-mates, also desperate to move out. They found a tiny flat to splitthree girls, one shoebox, total chaos.
“Mum, I want to live on my own. Its closer to uni, and”
“Over my dead body! Youll turn the place into a right den, shacking up with boys, skipping lectures!” Nigel cut in.
“Whats it to you?” Emily snapped.
“Excuse me? Thats no way to talk to your dad! Your student loan wont cover rent, will it? Your mums on part-time, my wages got cut, and now you want a flat? Dream on! Not a penny from me!”
“Ill earn it myself!” Emily yelled, slamming her door. But evening jobs were scarce, so freedom remained a pipe dream.
One morning, a noise in the hallway woke her. She stumbled out to find Nigel hugging some bloke.
“Emily, meet my lad, Jake. Lived with his mum in the countryside, but now hes moving in with us,” Nigel announced.
“Where, exactly? Weve only got two rooms,” Emily said flatly.
“SortedIll crash on the kitchen fold-out. Well manage,” Jake smirked.
Horrified, Emily confronted Irene:
“Mum, how are four of us supposed to live in this tiny flat?”
“Well make do, love. Theres always room for family.”
“Are you serious?!”
“Emily, Nigels paying the bills. I wont rock the boat. Jake stays.”
Now Jake slept in the kitchen. Breakfast was a battlefield. Coming home, Emily usually found Nigel and Jake already at the table.
“Oi, sis, join us!” Jake called once.
“Piss off,” Emily muttered.
“Watch your mouth, you little cow!” Nigel slurred.
“Dad, chill. Emily, come ere.” Jake grabbed her shoulders.
“Get off me, creep!” She wrenched free, bolting to her room in tears.
That night, Emily cried herself to sleep. Next morning, she tried again with Irene:
“Mum, didnt Dad buy this flat? You always said it was half mine.”
“Well legally, its mine, but youre my daughter, so Why?”
“I dont want Nigel or Jake here. They should leave!”
“Ungrateful wretch! Thats itno more money! Buy your own food!” Nigel roared.
Emily started rationing every pound. Yet Nigel and Jake still raided her groceriesespecially the good cheese and ham. That was the final straw.
“Mum, if Im so wrong, pay me back for what they stole, and Ill leave!”
“Pay you? You cheekypack your stuff and get out!”
Done with it all, Emily grabbed her things and left.
She crashed at her mate Sophies for a bit, then switched to part-time uni, got a job, and never looked back.
Nearly a year later, she spotted Irene outside student housing.
“Mum? What are you doing here?”
“Living here,” Irene sighed.
“What? What about the flat?”
“Oh, love” Irenes voice cracked. “After you left, Nigel tricked me into signing the flat over to himsaid itd stop you from claiming anything. Then Jake started bringing girls into your room. One day, I came home to some woman in my bed.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? The flats his. Police said I could stayIm still on the leasebut the deeds done. I couldnt bear it. Scraped together this dorm room through work. Wanted to tell you, but well, here we are.” She burst into tears.
Emily sighed. “Bloody hell.”
“Dont hate me, love. I lost us both a home. Got what I deserved.”
Emily hugged her, then walked away. That evening, back in her shared flat, she breathed easy. It wasnt perfectsplit rent, dodgy heatingbut it was clean, quiet, and hers.
She kept in touch with Irene, who now talked about divorcing Nigel and fighting for half the flat. Emily listened but stayed out of it. Shed had enough drama to last a lifetime.
