After everything that happened, I decided it was time to make the attic my own. It was a small space, just enough for me, but I wanted it to feel like somewhere I could actually live. With everyone out eating, I slipped downstairs, grabbing my phone and a few bags. The house was quiet, giving me the perfect chance to leave without being seen.

I walked to the nearest store, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. The feeling of stepping outside on my own was strange. For the first time in ages, I was out in the world, doing something for myself, without anyone watching. I went straight to the clothing section first, picking out a few shirts, pants, and a good pair of shoes. I added a jacket to my basket, then stopped by the bedding aisle. I chose soft, dark-colored sheets and a comfortable mattress I could bring back with me. I would finally have a proper bed to sleep on in the attic.

With each thing I picked out, I felt more certain that this was what I needed to do. My life, my own space.

After finishing my shopping, I loaded everything into bags and walked home slowly, feeling the weight of each item with every step. It was tiring, but I didn’t mind—it was worth it. When I got back to the house, it was still empty. I moved my new things up into the attic one by one, careful to keep everything quiet.

Once the clothes and bed were settled, I opened my phone, scrolling through the store to find a TV and a game console. It felt strange ordering these things, but I had enough money from Dad to cover it. I pressed the order button and sat back, feeling a hint of excitement I hadn’t felt in a long time.

After setting up the new bed and putting my clothes away, I went downstairs to the kitchen to find something to eat. The house was still mostly quiet, and the only sound was the hum of the fridge. I opened it, scanning the shelves for something simple. As I reached for some fruit, I heard a sound behind me. I froze, turning slowly.

There, standing in the doorway, was my oldest sister. She looked at me, her eyes widening in shock. For a moment, neither of us said anything. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost.

“Is it really you?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I… I haven’t seen you in so long.”

I looked at her, keeping my face blank. “Hello, Sophia,” I said simply, not using the word “sister.” I said her name as if she were a stranger, just someone I happened to know.

Her face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears. “Why… why are you calling me that? I’m your sister,” she said, her voice cracking.

I looked down, focusing on the fruit in my hand. “Because you’re not my sister anymore,” I replied quietly. “I hate what you and everyone else did to me. You don’t have any ties to me now.”

Her face went pale as she took in my words. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I turned and headed back to the attic, leaving her standing there in the kitchen, her sobs following me up the stairs. When I reached the attic, I shut the door behind me, blocking out the sound. I could still hear her crying as I settled back into my own space, but I ignored it, focusing on unpacking the fruit and the few snacks I’d brought up with me.

Hours later, a knock came at the door. It was the delivery men, bringing the new TV and the PS5. I helped them carry everything up to the attic, thanking them as they left. It felt good to have these things here, like I was finally building something just for me. After they left, I unpacked everything, setting up the TV against the far wall and plugging in the console. The room was starting to feel more complete, more like a place where I could spend my time without needing to leave.

I looked at my phone, remembering the money Dad had sent me. Over the years, he’d given me over $400,000, more than enough for me to get by. I opened the app again, ordering a small couch and a laptop. If I was going to stay in the attic, I wanted it to be a space where I could do things I enjoyed.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

As the TV screen lit up, I picked up the game controller, feeling a sense of calm settle over me. It was nice to just play, to find something that felt simple and fun for once.

As I sat there, setting up my new game console, the familiar hum of the TV screen felt comforting, almost like an escape. I adjusted myself on the floor, feeling the cool wood beneath me, and scrolled through the game menu. After years of not feeling anything remotely close to excitement, the simple buzz of starting a new game actually made my heart beat a bit faster. I chose an adventure game that looked interesting, letting the music and colors fill the room. For a few minutes, everything else fell away; I was in a world far from this attic, a place where I could be anyone, do anything. I didn’t have to be *me*.

I lost myself in the game, and time blurred. The character on screen sprinted through cities and forests, battling creatures and solving mysteries. My mind drifted into it completely, and for the first time in a while, I felt the edge of my usual dark thoughts fade away. The character I played was strong, determined, and nobody could stop him. It was the opposite of how I felt in real life, and that felt good—like I could almost forget.

A few hours later, I heard footsteps from downstairs. It was probably Sophia or one of my brothers, but they didn’t come up. The house fell silent again, and I returned to the game. I adjusted the small space, moving some boxes around to make room for the bed and the TV. The attic was feeling more like mine by the minute, and I thought, *Maybe I don’t need anyone else to make me feel okay*.

The delivery for the couch and laptop came the next day. It was a hassle getting the couch up, but I managed to squeeze it in a corner by the small window that overlooked the yard. It was peaceful up here, and I realized I liked that—I liked having my own space. No one could judge me or treat me like I didn’t matter. I pulled the new laptop out of its packaging, running my fingers over its smooth, untouched surface. The light flickered on, and the screen glowed. I took a deep breath. This was all mine.

For the next week, I hardly left the attic. I spent my days lying on the couch, playing games, scrolling through websites on my laptop, or looking out the window. The sky changed colors as the day passed, and sometimes I saw the street lights flicker on as evening came. The sounds of my siblings arguing or laughing downstairs became background noise, just like the hum of the TV or the chirping of birds outside. I was in my own world, one I created for myself.

It was around Thursday evening when the door creaked open again, and Sophia’s voice floated up. “Hey, can I come in?”

I didn’t answer, keeping my eyes on the TV screen. She walked in slowly, looking around at the setup I’d built. She looked uncomfortable, as if she didn’t quite know how to talk to me anymore.

“Mom wanted to know if you needed anything else from downstairs. Food, maybe?”

Without looking at her, I said, “I’m fine.”

She took a few steps closer, looking at the game on the TV. “That looks fun,” she said, trying to sound friendly.

I paused the game, the silence thick between us. I could feel her waiting for me to say something, but the words didn’t come. Finally, I said, “It is.” I didn’t turn around.

She lingered for a moment before letting out a sigh. “We miss you, you know. Mom and everyone… they really want you to come downstairs sometimes.”

I still didn’t look at her. “Do you? Or do you just feel guilty?” I asked, my voice cold.

Sophia didn’t answer. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the look of hurt flash across her face. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and then she just nodded. “Alright,” she whispered and left, closing the door softly behind her.

As soon as she left, I felt a pang of something—maybe anger or sadness, but I shook it off. I went back to my game, telling myself that I didn’t need any of them. This was my space, my life. I wouldn’t let them make me feel small again.

By Friday, I started getting a routine down. I’d spend my morning scrolling through videos on my laptop, playing games in the afternoon, and in the evening, I’d sit by the window, watching the stars come out. I realized that, up here, I felt more alive than I had in years. I thought about what Dad had said, how he told me not to let the world get to me. His words echoed in my head, and I found a strange comfort in them.

Sometimes, the thought of being so alone would creep back in, but I’d remind myself that this was a choice I made. This was my world now, one where I didn’t need to rely on anyone else. The outside world felt smaller and less important with each passing day. I stayed up late, letting the glow of the TV and the hum of the console lull me into a place where my own thoughts weren’t so loud.