Hello! When my parents demanded that I pay rent for the basement I had turned into a shelter, they never imagined that this would lead to my escape and their final regret.
I had always felt like the black sheep of my family. But it wasn’t just a feeling. It was pretty obvious when you saw how differently my parents treated me and my little brother, Daniel.
When I was 17, we moved into a two-bedroom house, and my parents decided that Daniel needed his own room. Instead of sharing it like normal siblings, they put me in our unfinished basement.
A basement | Source: Unsplash
Meanwhile, he was given a huge, bright room upstairs, with brand new everything: furniture, decor, even a video game console. Me? I had whatever junk they could get out of the garage.
I remember the day they showed me my new “room.”
Mom pointed at the cold concrete space as if it were a prize. “Elena, honey, isn’t it exciting? You’ll have so much room down here.”
Middle-aged woman smiling | Source: Pexels
I stared at the bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs in the corners, and the musty smell that permeated everything. “Yes, Mom. Super exciting.”
Dad patted me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, kiddo! And hey, maybe we can fix this a little later, huh?”
Later he never came, of course. But he wasn’t going to live in a dungeon forever.
A teenager in a dark basement | Source: Midjourney
I got an after-school job at the local supermarket, bagging groceries and pushing carts. It wasn’t glamorous, but each paycheck brought me closer to transforming my basement prison.
My aunt Teresa was my salvation. She was the only one who knew what my life was like at home.
So when she heard what I was doing with the basement, she started coming over on weekends, armed with paintbrushes and an infectious enthusiasm.
A woman painting a wall | Source: Pexels
“Okay, Ellie,” she said, ruffling her wild curls. “Let’s make this place shine.”
We started with paint, turning the dingy walls a soft lavender. Then came curtains to hide the tiny windows, rugs to cover the cold floor, and lights to chase away the shadows.
It took me months, because my job didn’t pay much, but little by little the basement became my own. I hung up posters of my favorite bands, put my books on reclaimed shelves, and even got a secondhand desk to do my homework.
Posters on the wall | Source: Pexels
The day I hung the finishing touches, a set of LED lights around my bed, I stepped back and felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time, or maybe my entire life: pride.
I was admiring my handiwork when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Mom and Dad appeared and looked around with raised eyebrows.
“My, my,” Dad said, squinting. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”
A man with his arms crossed and a tense expression | Source: Pexels
I expected praise, or at least recognition of my hard work. Instead, Mom pursed her lips.
“Elena, if you have the money for all this,” she waved her hand at my carefully curated space, “then you can start contributing to the house.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“That’s right,” Dad nodded. “We think it’s time for you to start paying rent.”
A man’s hand | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Rent? I’m 17! I’m still in high school.”
“And you clearly make enough money to redecorate,” Mom replied, folding her arms. “It’s about time you learned some financial responsibility.”
I felt like screaming. Daniel had a room three times the size of mine, fully furnished and decorated with his own money, and he had never worked a day in his life. Yes, he was younger, but it was still one more injustice from them.
A large modern bedroom | Source: Pexels
Unfortunately, I knew I couldn’t argue with them, so I bit my tongue. “Fine,” I managed. “How much?”
They said a figure that made my stomach sink. It was doable, but it meant saying goodbye to any hope of saving for college, which was my plan now that the basement was done.
To make matters worse, Daniel chose that moment to come thundering down the stairs. He glanced around and let out a low whistle.
Teenager going down to the basement | Source: Midjourney
“Wow, sis. Nice cave.” Her eyes fell on my LED lights. “Hey, are they powerful?”
Before I could stop him, he reached up and pulled at them. The lights flickered sadly, leaving behind a trail of peeling paint.
“Daniel!” I screamed. But my parents ran up to him, asked if anything was wrong, and he just shrugged.
“Boys will be boys,” Dad laughed as if his golden boy hadn’t just destroyed something I’d worked months on.
Man in the middle laughing | Source: Pexels
So there I was, standing in my darkened room again, fighting back tears of frustration. In the grand scheme of things, Daniel had only messed up my lights, and that could be fixed. But, really, it was more than that.
It was a symbol of my life: always second best, always last. But karma, as they say, has a way of evening things out.
A few weeks later, my parents invited Aunt Teresa and some friends over for dinner. She brought along a woman named Ava, an interior designer from her book club.
Two women at a dinner party | Source: Pexels
We all sat around the table and ate Mom’s stew while she raved about Daniel and his soccer team.
But then Aunt Teresa spoke up. “Ava, you have to see what my niece has done with the basement. It’s incredible.”
I felt my cheeks heat up as all eyes turned to me. “It’s not that bad,” I muttered.
But Ava was intrigued. “I’d love to see it. Do you mind?”
A woman smiling | Source: Pexels
Ignoring my parents’ tight smiles, I led Ava downstairs. When she looked around, her eyes widened.
“Elena, this is amazing. Did you do this by yourself?”
I nodded, suddenly shy. “Most of it. My aunt helped me with some of the bigger stuff.”
Ava ran her hand over the repurposed bookshelf she’d salvaged from a neighbor’s sidewalk. “You have a great eye for design. There wasn’t a lot of potential here, but the way you’ve made the most of the space, the color choices… it’s really impressive.”
A bookshelf | Source: Pexels
For the first time in a long time, I felt a spark of hope. “Really?”
He nodded and smiled. “We actually have an internship position at my firm. Normally they’re for college students, but… I think we could make an exception for a high school student about to enter college. Are you interested in design as a career?”
I had to stop my jaw from dropping as I tried to speak. “Of course! I’ve never considered it professionally, but I love it.”
A smiling teenager | Source: Midjourney
Ava smiled. “Well, now consider it. The internships are paid, and if you do a good job, the company might even give you a scholarship to college if you go into design. How about that?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Yes! A thousand times, yes! Thank you.”
“Great! You can start right away. I’ll call you later with more details,” Ava nodded, bypassing my parents as she headed up the stairs.
A nice woman smiling | Source: Pexels
I hadn’t even noticed that they had followed us down the stairs. Their faces were drawn and my brother looked confused because, for once, someone else was the center of attention.
That internship changed everything. Suddenly, I had a direction, a purpose, and most importantly, people who valued me and wanted me to succeed.
So I set out to learn everything I could about design, staying late at work and soaking up knowledge like a sponge.
A teenager working in an office | Source: Midjourney
For the next few months, I juggled my studies, my internship and my part-time job at the supermarket. It was exhausting, but stimulating.
At home, things were… different. My parents seemed unsure of how to treat me now. They stopped demanding rent from me. Instead, they asked me about my “little job.”
“How’s that design thing going?” Dad would ask me over dinner, but he always avoided my eyes.
Middle-aged man looking down | Source: Pexels
“It’s great,” I replied, trying to remain indifferent. My joy didn’t belong to them. “I’m learning a lot.”
Daniel, for his part, seemed baffled. “I don’t understand,” he complained one day. “Why do they give Elena internships and not me?”
Mom patted her hand. “Well, honey, that’s because you’re still young. You’ll get an even better one later.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course, they had to appease the favorite.
A teenager at the table | Source: Midjourney
As the course progressed, I began to put together my portfolio for college. Ava was an incredible mentor, guiding me through the process and helping me choose my best work.
“You’re very talented, Elena,” he told me one afternoon in his office, late at night. He had been kind enough to stay so I could finish my plans. “These schools would be lucky to have you.”
Her words gave me the confidence to aim high. I applied to some of the best design programs in the country, including Ava’s alma mater.
A young woman writing in a notebook | Source: Pexels
The wait was agonizing afterward, but it finally happened. I was in the basement, touching up the paint on my bookshelf, when I heard Mom calling my name.
“Elena? Here’s a big envelope for you.”
I took the stairs two at a time and snatched the envelope from her hands. “Dear Elena, We are pleased to offer you admission to our School of Design…” My knees trembled, but everything was for the better!
A large envelope | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t believe it. Not only had I been admitted, but the school had offered me a full scholarship, the same one Ava was attending.
“Well?” Mom asked, giving me a tight smile. “What does it say?”
“I got admitted. Full scholarship,” I said, looking up as my eyes filled with tears.
For a moment there was silence. Then she went back upstairs. She couldn’t even mutter a small congratulation.
A serious older woman | Source: Pexels
My father didn’t say anything at dinner, and Daniel was a little angry.
I felt her bitterness. But I didn’t care. I finally had what I wanted. Ava threw me a small celebration at the office and Aunt Teresa threw a big party. It was all I needed.
The next room I decorated was my bedroom… after that, I redecorated my entire life with colors that shined like my soul, the patterns that made the world unique, and the family I made along the way that supported me as much as a nice, cozy bed frame that lasts for decades.
A happy teenager | Source: Midjourney
Click here to read another story: When Jason’s phone rings in the middle of the night, he finds his daughter crying. During the conversation, he discovers that her landlord is kicking her out of his house. Jason decides to teach the landlord a lesson…
This work is inspired by real people and events, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the depiction of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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