I laughed bitterly at the scene. Mom begged and cried, even dropping to her knees, until finally she agreed to clear out my bedroom. Only then did I release Ethan.
Megan glared at me furiously, not out of concern for her son, but because she still wanted money.
I collapsed onto my bed, my head pounding. Calling 911 was useless—this was a “family matter,” and in the end, I’d be told to resolve it myself. And with Megan acting like a lunatic, who knew what she might do next?
I dozed the whole day in a haze. The following evening, as soon as I reached the entrance of the apartment complex, a group of people blocked my way.
“Emily, I know you’re a good girl, but your family is just too disruptive. Could you… maybe consider moving somewhere else?”
It was Mrs. Brown, forcing a smile while her eyes brimmed with irritation.
I stared at her in confusion. I’d lived here for five years. Why would they suddenly want me gone?
Then I saw them—Mom and Dad downstairs, blasting loud music from portable speakers, so loud it rattled through the entire building.
The other neighbors weren’t as polite as Mrs. Brown. They glared at me and launched into furious complaints about Daniel and Megan’s antics.