Alright, so heres the thing. Either you help me strip Vicky of her parental rights, or Im walking out, and you can deal with this mess yourselves.
“Emily, for heavens sake! Shes your sister! My daughter!” Mum threw her hands up, then clutched her chest.
“And what am I? Not your daughter?” Emilys voice cracked with hurt. “Sometimes I think Im not even a person to you… Cant you see whats happening? Ive grown to love little Alfie, and you lot Either help me, or Ill handle it alone. But Im not backing down.”
Mum looked away, torn. Dad just scowled into his plate, poking at his food. Emily, realising where their loyalties lay, got up and walked to her room.
Clearly, her parents hadnt chosen her. Or Alfie.
Emily started packingshe didnt have much. Her heart felt like lead, but she knew this had to be done.
But how do you stay strong when a tiny child clings to your legs, sobbing?
“Mummy, dont go…” Alfie begged, watching her stuff clothes into a bag.
*Mummy.* That word cut deep every time. Emily sighed, knelt down, and forced a smile.
“Im not leaving *you*, Alfie,” she whispered, hugging him. “Im leaving so things can be better for us one day. Ill come back. For good.”
Alfie wailed, not understanding why the aunt he called Mummy was abandoning him. He clung to her so tightly she couldnt leave until hed cried himself to sleep. Only late that night did she slip out, quietly closing the door behind her.
In that moment, Emily hated Vicky. This was all her fault.
…Vicky had started going off the rails at sixteen. First, it was just late nights, then “sleepovers at a friends”though everyone knew what that meant. Shed stagger home smeared with makeup, sometimes in tears. And Mum and Dad would fuss over her like she was some fragile treasure, soothing and coddling.
A pregnancy was inevitable. At seventeen, Vicky got knocked upcouldnt even name the father. Just some “bloke from a party.”
Alfie was born. Vicky quickly realised motherhood wasnt for her. At first, shed vanish overnight, then she disappeared completely.
“Im still young. Im not throwing my life away,” she told Emily over the phone when pressed.
So the “life” fell to Emily. Granddad barely bothered with Alfiemight buy him a rattle, nothing more. Granny helped when she could, but she worked.
Emily was eighteen. She switched to part-time uni to care for a baby who wasnt even hers. She became his second motherliterally, since shed even arranged his christening.
It was brutal. Night feeds, sleepless nights, hauling a pram up stairs, exams on no sleep. She studied after putting Alfie to bed. And still handled the houseworkher parents were always “too busy.”
By six months, shed adjusted. Then Vicky waltzed back in, sobbing, on her knees.
“Sorry, I was such an idiot… Ill do better…”
They all believed her. Even Emily. For a month, Vicky played mumuntil the novelty wore off. Then she bolted again, this time nicking Mums jewellery.
“Shes just struggling,” Mum excused. “Shell come back. She needs time.”
Emily stopped believing. Once was chance; twice was a pattern. But what choice did she have? Her parents lived in denial, giving Vicky endless chances.
So Emily carried on. Studied, raised Alfie, took him to nursery and doctors. Hoped Vicky wouldnt return.
But of course she did. Four years later, there she was.
“I thought he loved me. Thought wed live together, take Alfie… But he used me. I had no job, no friends, stranded in some town…” Vicky sniffled, batting her lashes at their parents.
“Funny how you never missed a meal,” Emily muttered.
Mum shot her a look. The spotlight swung back to poor, tragic Vicky.
The worst came when Emily brought Alfie home from nursery. Granny nudged him toward Vicky. Alfie burst into tears, hiding behind Emily.
“Whats wrong? This is your mummy,” Granny cooed.
“Shes *not* Mummy! *She* is!” Alfie clung to Emily.
“Emilys just your aunt. Vickys your real mum,” Granny said.
Emilys heart shattered.
And it all happened again.
Vicky lived off them for two months, jobless.
“Ive got Alfie. Whod hire me? Its like Im on maternity leave,” she scoffed when Emily asked her plans.
Then she vanished. Again. No explanationjust photos with some bloke twice her age.
“Another deadbeat,” Emily thought.
No hope left. But what to do?
She confided in her mate, Nina.
“Easy. Strip her of rights. Theyll check, see shes never around, and youre sorted,” Nina shrugged.
Emily hesitated.
“But what if they take Alfie? And Mum and Dadll go mad.”
“Then wait till Vicky wrecks him again. You want that? Shell bleed him dry laterliterally. And what about *you*? When do *you* get a life?”
Emily had forgotten she *had* a life. Dates bolted when they heard she had a “kid.”
Except Liam. Her uni mate knew and still stuck around. After talking to Nina, she gave him a chance.
And it worked. With Liam, she felt… normal.
So when her ultimatum failed, she went to him.
“Ive always saidlets move in. Maybe nows the time?” Liam said.
“I cant. Alfie”
“So we take him.”
Emily gaped.
“But hes not yours”
“Listen, Em,” Liam cut in. “Im not thick. If hes family to you, hes family to me.”
Something in her chest thawed.
The next six months were hell. Social workers, paperwork. Worst of all, she couldnt take Alfie straight away. He cried, begged, waited.
“You stole your sisters child!” Mum spat.
“Like she ever wanted him,” Emily shot back.
Her parents shut her out. Only Liam and friends stood by her.
But after the storm comes the calm.
…Years later, Emily sat on a bench, watching Alfie teach his little sister, Lily, to kick a football. Liam squeezed her shoulder. She smiled.
No word from Vickynot that she cared. Just the same old chaos.
Her parents never forgave her. Fine.
“Let them coddle Vicky forever,” Emily thought.
*Ill take care of the ones who actually matter.*
