Birthday poem for sister in christ

6 months ago, I became friends on Facebook with a lovely girl from my country, India. We used to speak very rarely, like twice a month for just 5 minutes, as I was often busy sharing memes on my wall. Gradually, she started reacting to every post I shared, and our conversations increased to 4 or 5 times a month.
One day, I asked for her phone number, which she promptly gave me. Despite becoming WhatsApp friends, I didn't message her until my birthday the next month when she called me, and we spoke for an hour. Eventually, I started developing feelings for her and confessed my feelings, surprising her. However, she expressed hesitance about relationships, citing a serious breakup from two years prior.
Afterward, she began ignoring me, and when I asked what was wrong, she claimed to be unwell. Feeling frustrated, I unfriended her on Facebook and blocked her on WhatsApp. Despite this, she sent a food recipe video to my Facebook messenger.
After unblocking her on WhatsApp, I wrote her a beautiful poem, and she responded positively, expressing happiness. However, she resumed ignoring me afterward. Feeling frustrated, I decided to express my feelings, stating that I felt I wasn't the one she was looking for, and suggested we should part ways. She replied, "What can I say? I want you to succeed in your life."
I didn't respond, and it's been two weeks since I blocked her on WhatsApp (though not on Facebook), where I still see her online frequently. Despite this, I refrain from messaging her.

Or do they just not care to see them struggle? Or both?
Last Friday was my mum’s birthday but she passed nearly 2 years ago, so my sister and I got together to celebrate ourselves. I went to her house after work to find my sister making a big roast dinner in the kitchen while her husband was sitting on the couch. Their 2 kids were going mental (1 and 5) and pulling on her and running into the kitchen while she was trying to cook and the whole time her husband just sat on his phone. Now he’s not usually too involved, but I had thought given it was such a hard day for her, he might have at least stepped up and tried? My sister did snap and ask him to come grab the baby because she kept going near the oven and when he got her, he held for about 20 seconds and then asked if she wanted to go to aunty and handed her to me. I went into kid wrangle mode and helped with dinner, but then even afterwards she went to bath both kids and get them ready for bed by herself while he went back to the couch to sit on his phone without even saying thank you..
The very next day, it was a friend’s 30th birthday and I agreed to let her have it at my house since I had a bit more space. She came over at 12pm with all the decorations by herself to start setting up and I asked where her husband was and she said “oh, some game is on so he isn’t going to help setup, but he said he would get here at 6 when everyone else does.” Like a, he just decided not to come help her but b, it was also her actual birthday and instead of spending time with her he just said I’d rather watch this game?
It just blows my mind and I can’t stop thinking about it. If this is what marriage looks like, I understand why people don’t want to sign up for a lifetime of that…

So I’m turning 31 this Friday and scheduled two weeks ago a fishing tournament for all my friends including my brother. We both work incredibly demanding jobs and don’t get much time off. Our friend group also doesn’t get to see each other very often as we all work and some travel for work a lot.
My brother is not close with his in laws. They are racist, religious fanatics and just awful people especially to their daughter my brothers wife. Anyway he told her about the fishing trip and she said he had to go with her to her parents home town to celebrate her sisters kids first birthday.
My brother told me when I was having dinner with them this week. I told her that the kid won’t remember my brother not being there and I did already invite to this trip where as she only mentioned the birthday on Saturday. I told her that I’d rather have my brother there with me as both him and her get to do what they want. She wants to go to a birthday and so does my brother.
She called me an asshole at the table for downplaying her family. I simply responded that she has stated she hates her own family so why does she care? She got up and left. I left soon after and called my brother on Monday. He is going with his wife even though he said he’d rather go with me and our friends.
I understand he is married and they share family and whatnot but AITA here?

I, F26, never thought I would have to write on here. I am a single parent of a toddler. (Dad is not in the picture at all)
I have 2 order step sisters, and over the past 2 years things have got a little rocky, and I just can't wrap my head around it. I am going to try to put both stories in here, because I have a baby shower to attend, in less than 3 weeks. We will call the oldest sister, X, and the other sister Y.
So Y, got married in September 2022, long story short, her best friend told my sister I was talking rudely about her, and my sister believed her. I asked my mom multiple times if I HAD to attend the wedding, and she said no. So I already didn't want to go, I was not in the wedding, I was going through stuff at home, and she didn't want my ex boyfriend there. I reached out and told her I would not want any pictures taken of me or my kid, and she got mad and started saying I was a horrible mom for doing that to my kid. Which really made me not want to go, so I didn't.
We stopped talking for months. Fast forward to April, our grandma has a 70th birthday party. Which I also didn't plan on going, (I'm not close to my mom's side of the family) and even then, I had remember right when the party started, which is about a 30 minute drive, I had slept late that day because I was up all night with my SICK kid, so I wsd very much tired. So sister X sent me a LONG paragraph, after the party, 2 pages long, stating that "the least I could do is show up to a party since I constantly drop my kid off with the grandma) which I found weird because when she's in town, she drops her kid off there? Plus I pay my cousin. Anyways, the message went on to say "I never thought you would grow up to be such a sh*tty person" and "your kid is going to grow up to hate you so much for this" "you are just jealous of me and Y" then she made a comment about my cousin (who us no longer here) comparing his death to my parenting? I still don't understand.
Okay so sister Y has apologize since then, but after telling me how horrible of a mom I am and that "it's sad someone with no kids can tell you're failing as a mom" but whatever, I'm grown enough to hear your apology and show up for my mom's sake. Sister X has not apologized, and my mom tells me she will never plan on apologizing so I just need to accept it.
So, AITA for not wanting to be around either of my sisters? And AITA for keeping my toddler away from both of my sisters? Also, please send advice about this baby shower I have to attend and face both of my sisters 😩

6 months ago, I became friends on Facebook with a lovely girl from my country, India. We used to speak very rarely, like twice a month for just 5 minutes, as I was often busy sharing memes on my wall. Gradually, she started reacting to every post I shared, and our conversations increased to 4 or 5 times a month.
One day, I asked for her phone number, which she promptly gave me. Despite becoming WhatsApp friends, I didn't message her until my birthday the next month when she called me, and we spoke for an hour. Eventually, I started developing feelings for her and confessed my feelings, surprising her. However, she expressed hesitance about relationships, citing a serious breakup from two years prior.
Afterward, she began ignoring me, and when I asked what was wrong, she claimed to be unwell. Feeling frustrated, I unfriended her on Facebook and blocked her on WhatsApp. Despite this, she sent a food recipe video to my Facebook messenger.
After unblocking her on WhatsApp, I wrote her a beautiful poem, and she responded positively, expressing happiness. However, she resumed ignoring me afterward. Feeling frustrated, I decided to express my feelings, stating that I felt I wasn't the one she was looking for, and suggested we should part ways. She replied, "What can I say? I want you to succeed in your life."
I didn't respond, and it's been two weeks since I blocked her on WhatsApp (though not on Facebook), where I still see her online frequently. Despite this, I refrain from messaging her.

I've posted this last year and some things happened which made me quite proud and I'd like to share how things went. So recap and then update:
So... When I was little, I lived with my mom and stepdad, things were great and we were very happy. Then my mom passed when I was 7y, so I moved with my father and stepmom, things were complicated. Currently, I have no contact with him (he's not a good man nor a good dad), and I live with my aunt (since 2018) and her husband (he came along in 2019).
Me and my aunt had an amazing relationship, she was my favourite aunt and all that. However, things started to go wrong when I started living with her, I made the mistake of answering that yes, I wanted to be treated like her daughter along with her 2 sons (one my age and the other 3 years younger). I had a desperate "need" for a mothefather. She became a kind of "maunt" (mother+aunt), and her husband a "stepdad"... Oh how do I regret this
Well, she has a favourite son, the oldest. He's lazy, arrogant, disrespectful, a typical golden boy who got spoiled his whole life and now he doesn't give a damn about anything other than himself.
For being the other woman in the house, she constantly pushes house chores to me, instead of the boys (subconsciously, i believe), pretty much only asks me about things, where her sons are, if the dogs were fed, if the boys cleaned well whatever room they were supposed to, stuff like that, and she's also constantly very, very rude to me (at the point of her husband arguing with her about it). And I got this whole syndrome of everything being my responsibility and anxiety when it comes to her, which became extremely exhausting over the years.
I came out to her about my bissexuality about 4 years ago, i thought she would take it well. She didn't. She masks her disapproval, but she clearly doesn't like it. I was really let down, I genuinely thought she would be supportive and everything we expect, but she first got confused, then annoyed and has said some very hurtful thing over the years. Currently I have a gf (she's 22 years old), we've been dating for over a year. They don't like each other very much, my gf doesn't like her because of all the things she does to me. And my aunt doesn't care about my gf at all because... well, she a girl.
Ok, that's the context. Now here's what happened.
My aunt send some kind of agressive messages over something silly, and that caused my anxiety on fire for the gazillionth time, only that time I had enough. I called my other aunt (by consideration, she's married to my grandad) and asked for help (she knows everything that goes on), if i could move in with them, she said yes. I then replied my aunt with a text saying i had enough and would move in with my grandad. She got upset and said (among other things) that "i had her blessing to leave, even though i didn't ask for it". She called my grandma (we are very close), and my grandma sent me some awful audios of how disappointed she was, how I made my aunt sad, of what would people think, that i used to be such a sweet girl and now this, of how loving is a choice and i chose not to love my aunt, stuff like that. Aunt and her husband went to dinner with my grandad that night without my presence, and told them we had an amazing relationship, that she didn't knew what happened, that my problem was I couldn't take a "no" for an answer, etc.
Two days later, we sat down to talk, she told me to start, I said all I wanted. She then started saying how that kind of thing should not have been adressed through text (which I agree, but I had to text or I'd freak out), that she was harder on me than the boys because (in another words) the world was rough and she loved me the most.
And then her husband also spoke about how he understands both sides and blablabla, and said that i could go to my grandad, but that they felt like i should understand that i would only go because THEY allowed, if they didn't wanted, i would not go, no matter what my grandparents or aunt (grandad's wife) said. He basically wanted to state their power position.
(Since my mother's death, my whole family on her side feel responsible for me, so i see all of them in the same way. None of them are my mom and dad, they are in the same "level" to me and have the same "right"... Him saying that made me burn inside, like they're entitled to me, I don't belong to them or anyone. They're my aunt and "uncle", that's about it, they think they have something on me that they... Don't)
And then my aunt said that I could go, as long as I told my grandad about my sexuality and girlfriend. Now... He's kind of old fashioned and i'm scared he'll reject me... We have an amazing relationship, I have lunch with them every wednesday, and I'm the closest grandkid he has (the others aren't so invested). So I don't know if I tell him the truth and manage to leave (depending on his reaction) or if I don't risk it and stay in the toxic enviroment i'm in.
UPDATE - 14/05/2024
Hello! So, things got much worse before they got better. Let's give them names so the story telling will be easier, let's call my girlfriend Bea, my aunt Leah, her husband James and my "aunt" (my grandad's wife) Rachel.
I basically swallowed my anger because I couldn't bring mysef to speak to my grandad about my sexuality, my grandparents are the most important people in my life as they've always been there for me and I was terrified to be disliked by him. That was until december.
Early december I was leaving for work and before I left, I tried to "notify" my aunt that Bea would be spending Christmas and New Years with me and my siblings (note: my siblings had been looking forward to her being there, specially my brother and my SIL (Luke and Lyla), they made it a question that she'd go. I have 3 paternal siblings, so there's NO relation between them and my aunt Leah. We'd be staying in a city 3 hours away from mine at my brother and SIL's house, every year we do this). She immediately said "you know I don't like this", I said "yes", she then said "good morning" and I left for college.
The next morning, I was eating before going to work and Leah started talking about it and we started a conversation that developed into a fight. She said things like how dare I "notify" her, how that's not how things work and that it would not happen because THEY (she and James) don't feel confortable with this, how THEY think Luke wouldn't like this because "no one likes to have people over for a week" (he and Lyla were super pumped for Bea to go), how THEY don't know my girlfriend enough (come on, we had been dating for over a year already), how THEY wouldn't like me going with her to a stranger's house (in complete disregard to my point of view, it's my freaking brother, whom they met a couple times btw, not a stranger. But to them, the only meaninful point of view was theirs). She had even called my brother to basically "check my story", like?? She also said that we we're only teenagers (seriously, 22 and 20) , and I said "no, she isn't and neither am I!", she said she didn't say Bea was, I then said "and neither am I", she said I was, because I didn't act like and adult, then I got mad and talked about how I do literally everything around the house, always walk the dogs even when I get home tired at 10PM, even though they got there at 7PM, I help with groceries purchase, pay the water bill, clean the house, do the chores her boys lack to do, and when I'm not home, I'm either at work or college, but when she disagrees about something, she just puts me back in the "teenager box". And in the end, she said that my raising was not like this, this made me laugh in anger inside, she's been with me for 5 years, I'm 20 lol.
So that was it, I left for work and got a text from her, apologizing for being rough, saying that she loved me and wanted it to work, that they wanted to talk to me when I got home. I replied saying the same.
Later that day when we were all home, we gathered in the living room, I was literally against the wall and it intimidated me deeply. James started saying how much they loved me and wanted to see me happy, as they want that for all their children (aunt Leah has 2 boys, my cousins, and James has 3 girls). I then talked and expressed how I was feeling, then Leah started talking and basically said in a nicer tone the same things she said earlier, plus how they want me to be happy and want things to work for me, but they think it's too soon, they believe it's not the right time, they they, and therefore, despite being against what they want, I could take Bea, but only in ONE of the two holidays, which I could choose. I was in a bit of a shock (you see, me and Bea had bought the bus tickets a while earlier), had no support, against the wall, I was feeling purely defeated and tired, I only said "Christmas then...", she then said we would sleep in separate rooms and would not go on the 22th after work because "she had already allowed an extra night by allowing her to stay there until the 25th". I stayed in silence, they asked if there was anything I'd like to add, I said no. It wasn't a conversation, in no moment did they actually listened and considered me, they had their minds set way before we sat to talk. I went to my room and rolled all night in pure anxiety. This was thursday
Friday I was a wreck and went to Bea's house to check on her (she was sick that week) and to talk to her about what happened. She noticed something was off, I told her, she got mad and sad, we cried, etc. I went home feeling awful, my anxiety had been 100% all day long and I was in a really bad place and feeling deeply frustrated.
Saturday I woke up worse and decided that I had enough and was not having that anymore. I went outside and called grandad, talked about how I wasn't feeling well and asked what did he think about me leaving home, he said that their doors were always open and that I could just tell my aunt that "I was going to live with my grandad and that was it". I reframed the question asking what he though about me leaving to live alone, he then got worried and said that he didn't think that was necessary, that I had them and didn't need to do that. He then asked me to come over and talk to him and aunt Rachel. I accepted and told aunt Leah I'd sleep at grandad's.
I got there and ate a bit because I didn't want them extra worried, although I felt like throwing up at every bite. Everyone went to sleep and so did I. I woke up a bit later feeling worst, that's when I started to throw up, there was barely anything in my stomach and all I could do was throw up.
The next morning I was better and had already told aunt Rachel about what had happened, she found it absurd how things went (she had met Bea a while back and they clicked very well) and was upset about the things aunt Leah said. I decided to talk to grandad, I couldn't disappear with the subject again, specially now that he was worried sick about me.
So... I sat on the couch and told him what was happening, explained everything, told him that I'm like his stepson's MIL (she's married to a woman. It was the easiest way I found to introduce the topic), told him everything. He asked what I wanted him to do about it, I said that I just wanted him to still love me the same and remain normal with me, that I am still the same person and have always been this way, he just didn't knew about it, but that it changes nothing about me. Aunt Rachel then joined us and asked what he was thinking about it (she knows everything and is amazing to me), he said he wasn't pleased, but that it was my life and he had no say in it and that I should do what's right for me, said that if I wasn't gonna change, then neither would he. But basically, he got much more worried about my mental health than my sexuality, he said that the doors were still open and always would be for me, that he thought I needed a home and thinks they can offer me that. Aunt Rachel said that they wouldn't be obsessive after me, demanding to know every step I take and bossing everything like Leah did, that I have my graduation, I work, make my own money, am responsible, have my own life and am not a child, I'm a 20 year old adult and they would treat me as such.
So that was it. I went back "home" muchhh more confident and waited until nightfall because everyone was having a good time and I didn't want to spoil that. I realized aunt Leah and James were awake and went to talk to them, and that, my friends, is when hell went loose.
I started by saying I talked to my grandad about Bea and my sexuality, Leah asked how it went and I said it was great. Then I said they could talk to him (since they wanted to "decide" with him about my going), she said ok and asked when I wanted to go, I said that it could be in the same week since I was on vacation from college, she frowned, stood firmly and said "you know this won't change our decision about the holidays, right?" then it went boom, I said I didn't agree with them and that it wasn't right for them to dictate about such things. Told them their values and beliefs don't have to be mine, Leah asked "WHY NOT?", then I replied "because I have my own!".
Told them they were controlling and that made their kids lie to them, that since they liked to compare raisings (they criticized Bea's mom's raising because she gives her kids freedom to live their lives and fully trusts), then fine, I went on to say how Bea and her mom have an amazing relationship, full of love and trust, how Bea turned up great, works hard, just made it to psicology at university, helps immensely at home, and so has her sister. As for theirs? They raised their kids poorly, they are overbearing and that makes their kids not trusting them and lying a lot because of this necessity of them to control everything. I stated that the raising they gave their children was not my own, that I had multiple raisings and that no, they didn't "raise" me, I'm 20 and they've been with me for 5 years. Said that was clear, just look at the difference between me and her boys (I won't delve into this bit because it's not relevant, but the difference is nitid).
They said I couldn't take a no for an answer and that was my dad's fault, I said they didn't know what they were talking about, I know how it actually went whilst they made a story in their heads and believe it's the truth, since I knew how my dad used to tell my family one thing and do another.
They (again) said they wouldn't treat me like an adult because I did nothing to behave like one, I said that they didn't treat me as I deserved and they would always put me in the "teenager box" whenever I acted differently to what they thought was right (but I was adult enough to lend James almost 1k without Leah's knoledge lol).
She obviously tried to blame Bea, saying she was putting things in my head and that the last conversation was fine and now I was throwing a fit, I said that I said nothing else then because I felt cornered and realized it wasn't a conversation, it was them simulating one only to tell me what they were going to all along.
I told them they didn't know Bea because they didn't want to and I wasn't confortable bringing her as it was an enviroment unwelcoming to her, she then asked if i would go another year like this until I "felt confortable", I said yes, if that's what it took, that I didn't really need to introduce anyone if I didn't felt comfortable to it.
She once demanded to go meet Bea, after throwing a fit at my BIRTHDAY because Bea planned a day for me and my MIL wanted to make me lunch and they weren't invited, it was super uncomfortable. My aunt described this day as uncomfortable, in this argument I said "and about that day you guys met Bea and her mom? It was uncomfortable? OF COURSE it was, I TOLD you it would be! I told you that was barging in and no one wanted it!". Which Leah said that no, that wasn't the uncomfortable part, the uncomfortable was how Bea was "daring her, being all over me and kissing me in front of her, that she had to be respected!".... Lol, the being "all over me" was me shaking from the anxiety and Bea holding me to keep me in my feet, the "kissing" was ONE greeting kiss. And Bea did nothing "daring" towards Leah, believe me, if she had, aunt Leah would definitely know lol.
At the end, they asked if I was taking Bea, I said, yes, Leah said no, since she called my brother and told him how "things would go down" (amazes me everytime I remember this, she wanted to dictate how the holidays would go IN SOMEONE ELSE'S HOUSE). Lol, my brother was just texting me saying how Bea could go spend the whole holiday and we'd just say she left after Christmas. So it wasn't a very good argument on Leah's end. I said it was my business and I was sorry, but it was MY brother, MY family, MY relationship, MY life, and it wasn't up for them to dictate on it, they shouldn't feel comfortable or uncomfortable since it had NOTHING to do with them, and that my family who mattered in this were not only comfortable but very excited for Bea's presence.
I told them I knew I wasn't wrong since grandad and aunt Rachel agreed with me, so they could go ahead and talk to them if they wanted to. They ended up showing me their tumb and I left for my room.
Aunt Leah left to grandad's house in like, 5 minutes, cried to him and all. She got back, went in my room and in an ironic tone, said "sorry, I know I'm not your mother, stay with your raisings, I'm just glad and relieved my father wasn't as ok as you thought (her saying this seriously hurt me), he accepted for reasons ans beliefs he has, so go ahead and pack your bags this week, you're free to go. Sorry for the flaws, I was trying to get it right, be careful when you take that sticker off, don't ruin the painting." aaand she left.
The next day, grandad came and we took 90% of my stuff and I started officially living with him and aunt Rachel. Christmas was a bit awkward (my maternal family does this early Christmas so everyone's free on the 24th), but I was glooming feeling like the weight of the world had left my shoulders.
So... I went with Bea to spend the holidays with my family, my siblings, my SIL's parents and even my 1 year old nephew absolutely adored Bea, they now ask about her even before asking about me lol. My paternal grandmother loved her and was amazing, told my aunt (her daughter) that Bea was adorable and loving. It was amazing and I cannot imagine 2023 Christmas and New Year without Bea with us, she added sooo much.
Recently we've been to Luke's and Lyla's at Easter and made Easter eggs together, watched movies, went out, went to a family gathering where Bea, my uncles, cousins and grandmother (who was really happy to see her since Bea couldn't go to her birthday because she had to work) all got along really well.
We see each other frequently, living with grandad and aunt Rachel has been amazing, I'm finally gaining weight! MANY people have noticed it and it quite frankly scared me a bit, I had no idea it was so evident. But yeah, I'm doing great!
Grandad isn't ready to deal with this, so we don't talk about it. He doesn't like it and doesn't really understands, but he's doesn't meddle. Grandma (maternal) texted these days wanting to meet Bea (finally!), since she found out through aunt Rachel that me and Bea are still together and going strong for 1 year and a half already. I think she took it seriously now.
Anyway, it was hell, lol. But things turned out alright! Thank you for the people who commented in my first post, it was nice reading the comments and taking the options into consideration!

I, F26, never thought I would have to write on here. I am a single parent of a toddler. (Dad is not in the picture at all)
I have 2 order step sisters, and over the past 2 years things have got a little rocky, and I just can't wrap my head around it. I am going to try to put both stories in here, because I have a baby shower to attend, in less than 3 weeks. We will call the oldest sister, X, and the other sister Y.
So Y, got married in September 2022, long story short, her best friend told my sister I was talking rudely about her, and my sister believed her. I asked my mom multiple times if I HAD to attend the wedding, and she said no. So I already didn't want to go, I was not in the wedding, I was going through stuff at home, and she didn't want my ex boyfriend there. I reached out and told her I would not want any pictures taken of me or my kid, and she got mad and started saying I was a horrible mom for doing that to my kid. Which really made me not want to go, so I didn't.
We stopped talking for months. Fast forward to April, our grandma has a 70th birthday party. Which I also didn't plan on going, (I'm not close to my mom's side of the family) and even then, I had remember right when the party started, which is about a 30 minute drive, I had slept late that day because I was up all night with my SICK kid, so I wsd very much tired. So sister X sent me a LONG paragraph, after the party, 2 pages long, stating that "the least I could do is show up to a party since I constantly drop my kid off with the grandma) which I found weird because when she's in town, she drops her kid off there? Plus I pay my cousin. Anyways, the message went on to say "I never thought you would grow up to be such a sh*tty person" and "your kid is going to grow up to hate you so much for this" "you are just jealous of me and Y" then she made a comment about my cousin (who us no longer here) comparing his death to my parenting? I still don't understand.
Okay so sister Y has apologize since then, but after telling me how horrible of a mom I am and that "it's sad someone with no kids can tell you're failing as a mom" but whatever, I'm grown enough to hear your apology and show up for my mom's sake. Sister X has not apologized, and my mom tells me she will never plan on apologizing so I just need to accept it.
So, AITA for not wanting to be around either of my sisters? And AITA for keeping my toddler away from both of my sisters? Also, please send advice about this baby shower I have to attend and face both of my sisters 😩

This is me venting but am also curious to know what everyone's relationship is like with half-siblings. Here's my story. I'm sorry in advance for how long this is, along with the grammarun-ons. I'm trying to give the Reddit community as much context as I can dating as far back as my memory takes me.
I (F 28) have two younger biological sisters (identical twins, F 25). The three of us were born after my dad married my mom (arranged marriage) after he and his first wife got divorced.
I believe my dad's first marriage lasted about 10 years. They had two kids together (my half-siblings). My older brother and I have an 8-year age difference, and my older sister and I have a 10-year age difference. Growing up, they used to visit us a few times a year including summer break or alternating holidays. Sometimes they would visit during Thanksgiving, other times during Christmas.
We used to be pretty close (at least I thought), but the relationship has become increasingly strained through the years. I understand the fact that there are ALWAYS two sides to every story, but I believe that my dad was on the right side of things and the marriage ended because two people weren't compatible and got married too young. It's always unfortunate when there are kids involved, and I'm sure it was tough with my older siblings being impacted at a young age.
It started when our grandpa (my dad's dad) passed away in November 2015. My brother suddenly stopped talking to my dad/our family immediately for whatever reason. He was the only person that didn't come to my grandpa's funeral. I honestly think he was holding a grudge that he didn't find out immediately when my grandpa passed, but I can't be too sure. We've never addressed that directly.
Fast forward 8 months to July 2016, when my dad's side of the family had a reunion at a first cousin's wedding. The vibes from my brother were like nothing had happened, and then after the wedding weekend, he was back to being silent. When my grandma (dad's mom) passed away in June 2019 he didn't show up to the funeral then either. Granted I didn't, but not because I didn't want to. I was a poor grad student and couldn't afford an $800 ticket on short notice and didn't want to burden my parents to pay for me to fly back for a couple of days either on top of how busy they were with funeral arrangements.
My brother went about 5 years to not talk to my dad or any of us. Then, out of nowhere, he calls one day to announce that he's getting married. The wedding is set for October 2022. I think he was buttering up my dad and our family to come to the wedding, because he knew it would look bad if everyone asked where his dad was for his wedding, and it would reflect poorly on him. The communication in 2022 was pretty consistent leading up to the wedding, and my older siblings would call my dad almost every weekend knowing that they needed us to show up to the wedding.
My older sister (F 38) had a baby girl in July 2018. Our dad was thrilled, his oldest daughter made him a grandpa. But there is clear separation and favoritism there, as my niece only sees her mom's side of the family being in the same area in the DMV. For those who aren't familiar with DC/MD/VA, my older sister lives in Virginia, in Arlington, and her mom lives in Herndon. About a 30-minute drive from each other. My parents live across the country in Orange County, so visits are far and few in between for my dad and his grandchild. I live on the Maryland side, and the state line between Maryland and Virginia is roughly 30 min, depending on where you go and the time of day. Anyway, I don't even know if my niece knows that she has another grandpa, outside of what she knows about my sister's mom and stepdad, and my brother-in-law's parents, who split time between the US and Nepal. I feel so bad for my dad because that's his grandkid too and everyone deserves the joy of being involved in their grandkids lives. My dad has seen my niece several times but the relationship is pretty surface level. It's not her fault, she doesn't know him like she does my sister's mom and stepdad, plus it's a proximity thing living on opposite sides of the country. We have FaceTime for these reasons though.
My husband and I aren't ready to have kids yet, and we want them. We've only been married for almost 7 months so we're still trying to live life before we settle down. I hope nothing more than to be able to give my parents a grandkid one day because I want my dad and mom to experience what they missed from my older half-siblings isolating them from their kids. That is if I'm able to have kids, I know we can't control these things.
This brings me to my next point (if you're still reading this, I appreciate you). My husband and I got married in October 2023. Our parents on both sides did everything they could to give us the wedding of our dreams, and it was everything we imagined and hoped for, and I'm forever grateful for that. I know that my wedding hit my dad harder emotionally than the first two with my older siblings because he was not at all involved during theirs. That wasn't by choice, my older siblings' mom probably didn't want him to be involved. Divorced dynamics are so confusing. You're telling me you can't come together and be civilized for a day/weekend? After my wedding, a few months later, sometime in January or February 2024, my dad called me to talk about how my sister was upset after our wedding and she vented about a few things with him on the phone. He was relaying the message over.
For context, I uploaded our wedding pictures on Facebook, because I have so many family members overseas in Nepal who weren't able to attend the wedding, and it was honestly the most convenient way to showcase our pictures since people in Nepal are ridiculously active on Facebook. My sister has social media, my brother got rid of his TwitteFacebook/Instagram/everything many years ago. Our photographer took several thousand pictures throughout the wedding weekend events, and of course, there were moments captured of my older sister and her family, including my brother-in-law, and niece. I will admit out of spite since my sister never posts anything about me and my dad/family, I tagged but then later on deleted those pictures she was in. Why would I have pictures of her on my social media when she's never posted anything of us? She doesn't even like or comment on anything on my social media, and when you have siblings, this is not something you discuss, you just do it. Duh. Over the last few days, I unfollowed her and unfriended her on Facebook and Instagram. For me, it makes no sense to keep people on my newsfeed if I don't interact with them, and I have plenty of family members and friends that I already have a strongemore communicative relationship with.
If my sister was upset about this, why did she call my dad to vent about this months later instead of coming to me? My dad told me she complained that he didn't mention her or my older brother during his speech at our wedding. But am I wrong for thinking, why would he? It's a celebration for me and my husband. I thought that was very conceited and selfish. The day wasn't about her, and my dad's speech was so heartfelt that I cried. I believe she was offended she didn't get the same during hers. However, my sister and brother never asked our dad to give a toast at their weddings. Only their mom did, which is messed up in my opinion.
I understand divorce is messy and complicated, and people go through years of therapy to fix, or maybe even never fix issues completely. It's hard, and I'm just a product of his second marriage. But I've never understood the jealousy that seems to exist, specifically between my older sister and me.
I tried reaching out to both of them in a group iMessage, talking about how I am not happy with the way they're treating our dad. My brother has stopped calling my dad completely over the last few months since his son (my dad's second grandkid) was born a few months ago in February. My sister calls maybe once a month. I wanted to confront them about this ongoing behavior and ill will toward our family. They didn't even have the guts to respond to me, I suggested if they have time to FaceTime so we can have a real adult conversation about what is their issue. My parents are flying to DC this weekend and the original plan was to drive a few hours north so they could see my brother's baby. No communication with my brother whatsoever to coordinate. I feel devastatingly sad for my dad.
I'm not even going to get into their treatment of my mom. That's another long story, but basically, it's them not giving a hoot about her, even though she's the one who took care of them and stepped up when they visited growing up. As a stepmom, it's hard to deal with kids from a previous marriage. But she did it and she loves them, and they're nothing but passive-aggressive and mean to her. They never wish her happy birthday, happy Mother's Day, or my parents happy anniversary. It takes two seconds. For me, if you disrespect my parents, you're disrespecting me.
Since then, my sister has unfollowed and unfriended everyone on social media, including my dad, my younger sisters, and my husband. All because she couldn't handle that I did that to her. I'm just not for this nasty behavior, and I know we all need to unpack a lot in therapy (me and my older siblings specifically). Their behavior is cowardly, and I can't be the only one that thinks this, right? I don't know. It didn't have to be like this. I'm sure their mom has been telling them bad things about the marriage and my dad for years. I'm not saying he probably didn't make mistakes, but there are, once again, two sides to everyone's story. None of us kids have heard both sides directly from the source, and probably never will. It makes me sad, especially for my dad. I know life will go on. I tried to reach out, and if they don't want to talk about these issues like adults, then I have nothing else to say.

Hello, I (30 F) placed a boundary with my mother (60 F) this morning and let her know I would not be going to family events anymore. I just want someone with a clear head who's unbiased to weigh in on this please.
For Mother's Day, I was notified of the plans 1.5 hrs before I needed to be there (ticketed event) despite the fact that I was an hour away from where I needed to be. This is also despite the fact that tickets were bought the night beforehand so they had plenty of time to notify me. To me, it's clear they didn't want me there.
This is after:
-My sister (late 30s) told my bf (early 30s) "yeah, cos that's why I called you to be here" after he told her "Happy Thanksgiving" when we went to help her get into her apartment after she locked herself out.
-Every year for my birthday, my 3 sisters would go out to the mall together for hours instead of .... spend time with me on my birthday? Mind you, this doesn't happen on anyone else's birthday, just mine...
-My bf was largely ignored (no one tried to get to know him, ask him questions, anything) when I introduced him at a family event.
-I was not even invited to a big festival my sisters, mother, and cousins all went to.
-My sister (late 20s) didn't bother introducing me to their bf before they moved in together. Mind you, my cousins met him, I did not. I used to think we were close, it's now obvious to me that we never were.
-All 3 of them knew my father had cheated on my mother. Didn't bother telling me. I was later told it was "to protect my relationship with him". To that I say, what relationship? He's an abusive narcissist I've been calling out my whole life. We have never had a relationship.
-When I asked my mother why I was treated differently than the other sisters, she immediately said, "They say it's because you're obsessed with your bf." However, this behavior has been going on since I was in diapers when I was excluded from playing with my older sisters. Not to mention in HS, when I had to hear them talk about how awful I was through the door all while experiencing the height of my father's abuse.
To me, it's a continuation of the scapegoat role I was given as a child. It's clear to me that they don't like me.
TL;DR - my last straw with my family was being notified of an event 1.5 hrs before it started while I was an hour away (and everyone knew I was).
Am I being unreasonable to not want to spend time with these people anymore? Why or why not?

1. Around 8 years old, I dressed up in a ballet outfit with my sister and her next-door neighbour girlfriend. Pictures included (thanks, mom).
   
2. Around 10 years old, I prayed every single night for God (sad tears included) to make me a woman. I was developing "breasts," even though the rest of my body was slim. I started to see myself as "different " than the rest of my friends. I grew up in a predominantly female-led household and saw the world through a sensitive, soft lense. I was becoming the caregiver, maternal role in my friendship circle.
   
3. Around the age of 12, I used to play "bum doctor" with best friend (involved pulling down pants and bending over, while the other pretended to give a needle). I found myself initiating this game a good deal more than him. At this age, there was still a young naivete to this, and I wasn't aware it was "strange."
   
4. Around age 14, "on a dare," I dressed up with (a different) best friends mother's clothing. His mother was away at work, we hand-picked items, right down to the underwear, and got changed together in the bathroom. I changed behind the shower curtain as I was too shy and very embarrassed how my breasts completely filled out the (lactating) bra.
   
5. Around this time, I started to experiment with dressing up in my mother's nighties, as well as both of my sisters clothes. There were little pockets of free time to do this, and everything just felt "right"; like all the dots connected.
   
6. Around age 16, I started getting into porn. I was a late developer, as far as sex drive goes. Started off as regular guy/girl porn, then I quickly became interested in the "anal" category. I found myself very turned on by the cock scenes, but not the rest of the male body. I was attracted to the female body, but in a way that I wanted to "be" the female. The idea of making love to a man put my stomach into knots.
   
7. This "kink" grew and grew, unbeknownst to my family and friends. I was a very late developer, and all my friends had girlfriend's around this time.
   
8. I discovered my sisters had toys, and became rather infatuated with them (insert shameful secrets). The idea of being in a submissive role, the idea of a "male" becoming the one who receives - rather than gives, ignited a very deep switch in my brain. It just felt right, natural.
   
9. I started to become brave enough to buy porn DVD's from the local convenience store - but was very embarrassed, as the same owner basically watched me grow up from a kid to this point. I started to buy exclusively DVD's that featured anal. Finally, it took everything in me to one day buy a trans DVD, and I made a pathetically awkward excuse to the owner of how I was buying it as a joke birthday present for my friend. Oh, the shame.
   
10. I started watching the DVD's, imagining myself as the trans women, and essentially worshipping cock, worshipping men. I had little "sexual" desire at this point to be a male role with any future girlfriends. Still, the idea of men's abs, lips, thighs, arms, butt, etc still turned my stomach into knots. Although, in the very very back of my mind, I think I was starting to consider it.
    
11. I discovered Marijuana and beer around the age of 18, and would cut loose at my friends house (the same friend that I tried his mother's clothes on). He would occasionally put on porn (on mute) later into the evening, and meanwhile we were listening to music / playing guitar, etc. I started to sexually become interested in him. It was slways kind of there, but now with the porn playing, and being able to feel those feelings at the same time, I became sort of turned on by him. More so the idea of getting high and then becoming his submissive plaything. There were moments where iI could tell he was imagining the same, but - spoler alert - I never did (as i was way too shy to pursue it) but that only made the infatuation to be a submissive plaything for men even stronger.
    
12. I started talking to a girl online, and after almost four years of talking and developing a friendship, we decided to meet. I was 23 years old at this point. Fast forward, I became her boyfriend and when we were camping, she had just started showing signs of spotting (on her period), so we were just playing around - I was very nervous, especially because i was expected to be the dominant one. Next thing I knew, I had lost my virginity to her. But here's the kicker - it was from anal.
    
13. Curiosity got the best of me, and I started to seek out the validation and attention from men online. I accidentally left my browser open one night, and she saw everything. There was a big blow up, and she was calling me gay. We were both living at my parents' house at the time, and I'm pretty sure they must have overheard it. We made amends, and I confessed to her that I think I was bi and just needed to understand better. We played around with a strap-on quite often, and I also discovered chastity. Chastity became something of an excuse to not have to be the dominant one. I honestly felt more natural being the one receiving anal vs. penetrating a woman. We ended up mutually breaking up when I was 28. We are still best friends to this day.
    
14. I started to think of the man's body, beyond just his penis. I don't know if it was just due to exposure in films, but the right kind of stomach (slightly hairy, soft, but strong "dad" abs) as well as strong hands and forearms started to turn me on. When I would see older men in real life with any of these attributes, a switch went off in my head and I realized that I was turned on by them, and would start to imagine more than just sucking his cock, or receiving anal. I would imagine first kissing his stomach as a show of affection or adoration before taking him into my mouth. I was starting to imagine holding onto his strong arms and pulling his body closer, deeper into me. Maybe softly kissing his fingers, even playfully biting them.
    
15. I use reddit now, as a means to try and find Mr. Right. It is sort of an unwritten understanding with my partner now that I "explore" myself on reddit, but I don't share any of the details. Perhaps there will come a stage where I'm more open about it.
    
16. Sometimes, I can imagine myself in a gay relationship, but there would be very specific parameters - I would be the submissive one. I would be expected to present as femme as often as possible. I would be the stereotypical "housewife" (cooking, baking, cleaning, being sexually ready at all times, nurturing the husband). Ideally, I would be in chastity 24/7, or have complete disregard toward my penis until it just learns to remain soft on its own (maybe still getting nocturnal emmisions at night). The idea of worshipping and submitting to his body gives me butterflies. And this is a BIG one --- if he knows how to treat me and our chemistry is right, I would maybe even allow him to kiss me.
    
17. As far as porn goes, I now watch different genres for different purposes. Lesbian porn: Imagining myself as one of the "girls" and the other girl is just like me. Genetically born a male, but identifies strongly as a "girl". I imagine that we are playing while Daddy is away or that we're just playing for his amusement. He never let's us orgasm unless he tells us to, and he makes sure that there is a strong, imprinting, humiliating aspect to our orgasms - so that each time, we go deeper into our roles and can no longer deny who we are. Trans porn: obviously imagining myself as the trans pornstar, being taken forcefully by a real man. Having no Fouts about my sexuality. Hypno porn: This pushes me past any of my self-doubt and encourages me to not only drop my defenses but also to accept my fate. Everything I fear, I learn to entertain and even embrace when I'm watching the right kind of hypno porn. Finally gay porn: if I have refrained from cumming for over two months, then my mind really goes to that "desperate" place. Ideally, one man is the Dom, and is masculine, but cute. Not the kind of man who "acts" manly, but just naturally is - confident, smart, strong, manipulative. The other male is the more femme type, but not overly. Still a male (not trans) - soft, gentle, body made to receive, ass is more like a pussy, no hesitation to kiss, to play with his own soft cock, to suck his own fingers while looking at his Daddy in the eyes, gripping onto his Daddys hips, pulling him closer, moaning his name, fully accepting his place.
    

Going forward: I would love to have both a female and male partner. Essentially, to be a cuck to my wife, and only allowed to please her with my mouth - never with my penis (unless after an instructed orgasm, knowing that I'd be too soft to be able to penetrate her). I would only be able to make love to him, and my wife would enjoy watching, and would taunt me, encouraging me to go deeper each time. I would sleep with her each night, wearing something soft and silky, and we may kiss or fondle, or she may get me to eat her out (even if Daddy's cum is inside her still). Some nights she would either sneak off into Daddy's bedroom to sleep with him, or just openly sleep there, leaving me in bed alone some nights. I would hear them making love, but I would be locked in chastity, unable to cum. I'm encouraged at all times to play with my ass (aka my pussy) with either my fingers, a dildo or butt plug, so as to keep me constantly ready and make sure I'm always aroused - and aware of feeling empty if something isn't inside of me at any given time.
I want to be in a safe, loving, encouraging and open relationship where everyone is happy and their needs are met. I'm not sure if I'd classify myself as bi or gay. Definitely not straight. The idea of exploring these limits are what gives me life.

I need help, I can't get this off my mind and I'm losing sleep over it.
My parents are separated, both myself [M] and sister are in our mid twenties. My sister recently got into a serious relationship and her boyfriend's family threat her like a princess.
Ever since she started dating him she has turned against my mother because she started getting more attention than she ever got from my mother. My sister started treating her really badly. She never speaks to her, never says happy birthday, never asks if she needs help, basically never does anything! She absolutely hates her guts and avoids seeing her and interacting with her in any way.
In my opinion my mother has never done anything wrong to my sister, on the contrary she has done so much and sacrificed so much for her.
In light of this I have completely lost respect for my sister and I cannot stand her in any way. I have tried to speak to her about this but she just doesn't care.
What should I do? This is where I am lost.
Part of me wants to blacklist her forever and part of me is scared for the future. I genuinely am so angry at her that I now actually hate her and I'm ready to never speak to her ever again.

Hi everyone.I started liking a girl and I need some advice from anyone that can tell surely if a girl is not straight :) cause I haven’t really had any romantic experience so far and I don’t know if I’m just being delulu or if she’s actually interested in me. To keep the identities private,I’m gonna name myself Y, my friend that introduced me to this girl X,this girl Z and her friend W. It’s gonna be quite a long post.
A month and a half ago X introduced me to a classmate of hers(Z) and we both had very good first impressions of each other.I instantly thought that she was really pretty and funny.We were in a group setting and she told me “I’m going to remember you bcs X is always talking about how cool you are”.After we all went home,my friend messaged me to tell me that Z said that I’m very good looking.Since that day X started making fun of her about me,like telling her “Should we bring Y to calm you down?” when she’s mad and stuff like that,and she reacts good, X told me she says “she wouldnt dislike it” whenever she makes jokes about me and her. X once called her to hang out with us since we were in the same city(we live in different places but still pretty close) and Z told her that she’s “nervous because of me” and she won’t come.And whenever X asks her to hang out with us, she asks if I’m the one that wants her to come.
After a month we finally met again,at the gas station.She was with a friend of hers(W)that went inside to buy something, and I went to talk to her. I asked her about when will we hang out again.Later she told X that she thought I was being flirty with her and I made a flirty face when I asked her that.Then,when she left with W, they were making fun of the situation and she was saying stuff like “How would it be if Y liked me?” Everything good so far,but then she stopped liking my instagram stories(she used to like everything I was posting).
Then when X hanged out with her again,I asked her to ask Z if she’s disturbed by me or the fact that she thinks I’m flirting with her(X told her not to think that I’m doing that).Z said that she really doesn’t mind because I’m pretty and I’m cool,and she said something like “If Y likes me,I feel bad for her because she’s so pretty and such a good person and look at me…she deserves someone better”…now maybe I’m delulu and she’s just a good person but…I just don’t think a straight girl would say something like that.Then I came to hang out with them too and I talked to her about it too. X said Z never really talks to boys as the other girls do and one time another friend of Z told her (in a judgy manner) “maybe you like girls,that’s why you never talk to boys”,and Z didn’t say anything.
Z has this friend W,I only know her a little but I don’t really like her.X and others told me she’s a pick me and she influences Z a lot, she’s very manipulative and X told me W might be pursuing her to talk to boys and do whatever she is doing as well.And the truth is that Z acts completely different when she’s with W vs. when she’s with us alone.Last time I hanged out with her she put her arm around my shoulder and was just really nice. Then,this weekend, me and a bunch of friends went to a restaurant where W’s sister’s birthday was taking place(and ofc Z was there).She hugged 2 of my friends but she didn’t even say hi to me.Then for the whole night she ignored me,whenever we almost made eye contact she looked other way,and whenever I would leave she would come where I was sitting. She might just be avoiding to hang out with me when W’s there so W wouldn’t judge her,but I also thought…if we talked and she said that everything’s cool between us and she said she likes me (as a person) numerous times,then she would just hang out with me casually,in a friendly manner,like she did with my friends this weekend.There wouldn’t be any reason for her to ignore me,unless she lowkey feels something for me.Or maybe she’s ignoring me on purpose to intrigue me.
Anyway,I find the whole situation very fishy.What do y’all think?

For context my (F23) and siblings (NB25) mum likes to make every expirience about herself. Something bad happens to us, somethings worse happens to her. If we achive something (for example being the first person in our family to graduate college) it's only because she helped with learning disabilities etc. (She has other narcistic tendencies somehow everything relates to herself). And we both still live at home. Sorry I know it's a long one.
Now for the are we the aholes? The convercation started becasue she talked about my HS prom that was cancelled due to Covid years ago (in our country proms are a family ceramonial thing more like a graduation then a party for students) and about why she is traumatized about it and I have moved on. I then told her ''you have to stop putting your trauma on us''. And then she brings up my birthday a few months ago AGAIN. (Extra context when we were younger we had big parties (20+ kids) and we'd always both get presents and invite both friends - our b-days are months apart so 2 parties), she made a point of always making a cake that was over the top and recently we instead started doing drinks with a few friends and for my b-day go to our grandmas (her mom she refuses to be around) because my birthday falls around Easter. And this year I was busy graduating and working and didn't have time to go for some cake with her alone and I haven't cared about my cake for years and that has been a problem for 12 years cuz it takes her role away. This year I told her that it's my day and would prefer to go out with my boyfriend then her. She then started whishing my sibling ''happy you got a baby sister day'' and went on and on about how ''I robbed her of her I gave birth and gave life and became a mother day''.
And that brings us to today where out of nowhere she starts it up again and called aside from repeating everything added that I am selfish and only think about myself for saying my b-day is my day not her (as in she wants to be celebrated on my b-day) and my sibling for not wanting to be celebrated for getting a sister.
So are we the aholes for saying our b-days aren't about her?
PS. If this is confusing she often goes on random tangents, that's how prom became b-day. We can answer questions or ubdate if necesarry.

Hello everyone 😊
My sister, mother and I bought my father a new monitor for his birthday (32” WQHD 165Hz Monitor) - I know he would NEVER need the 165 Hz. The only game he plays is a 15 years(?) old shooter, but he wanted a bigger screen and the 165 Hz were just there ^^
Now his old PC (~10years) can’t support more than 60Hz also my father was recently complaining more and more that the PC is extremely slow + Windows 10 is loosing support soon so we decided is probably time for a new one.
The new PC should again last for around 10 years so I searched for some parts and would like to hear your opinions an that configuration. Maybe some advice on parts that would be better
CPU: AMD Ryzen 5 5600G
Mainboard: MSI B550M PRO-VDH (I really wanted that USB3.2 Gen 2 Connector, so we can get him a front panel with fast USB-C ports)
RAM: 16GB G.Skill RipJaws V DDR4-3600 CL18
SSD: 1TB WD Blue SN580 M.2 (I know the CPU only supports PCIe 3.0, but its cheaper that other PCIe 3.0 SSDs)
PSU: 500 Watt be quiet! System Power 9 CM Modular 80+ Bronze (In case he will need a graphics card, maybe he becomes a gamer in the next years :’D )
(We would reuse his old case)

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Hello everyone 😊
My sister, mother and I bought my father a new monitor for his birthday (32” WQHD 165Hz Monitor) - I know he would NEVER need the 165 Hz. The only game he plays is a 15 years(?) old shooter, but he wanted a bigger screen and the 165 Hz were just there ^^
Now his old PC (~10years) can’t support more than 60Hz also my father was recently complaining more and more that the PC is extremely slow + Windows 10 is loosing support soon so we decided is probably time for a new one.
The new PC should again last for around 10 years so I searched for some parts and would like to hear your opinions an that configuration. Maybe some advice on parts that would be better
CPU: AMD Ryzen 5 5600G
Mainboard: MSI B550M PRO-VDH (I really wanted that USB3.2 Gen 2 Connector, so we can get him a front panel with fast USB-C ports)
RAM: 16GB G.Skill RipJaws V DDR4-3600 CL18
SSD: 1TB WD Blue SN580 M.2 (I know the CPU only supports PCIe 3.0, but its cheaper that other PCIe 3.0 SSDs)
PSU: 500 Watt be quiet! System Power 9 CM Modular 80+ Bronze (In case he will need a graphics card, maybe he becomes a gamer in the next years :’D )
(We would reuse his old case)

For context my mom was a single mother of 3 kids. She would have relationships but they never worked out. That being said we all knew all too well what it was like growing up in a broken home. She was always working and barely home and left us to our own devices. (Back before technology) with rules like don’t open the door for anyone and don’t answer the phone, come straight home after school and so on. But more often than not I was the only one that would go straight home.
We often couldn’t afford things but always had food. We always had to meet and deal with the new bf and that would last months to years at best. Sometimes moving in with them just to do a midnight/midday move while they weren’t there. Needless to say but our childhood was very unstable and stressful and lacking in many aspects.
Now to get into it Me and my sister Bebe never really got along. I am younger and we didn’t have common interests. We naturally did our own things and avoided each other when we could. We look a lot alike so people often mistaken us for the other. But personally wise we are nothing alike. We were always compared to the other and it often felt like we were competing with each other. So we were always fighting.
Eventually we both settled down, got our own houses and partners and had kids. We got back in touch when we had kids. We met each other’s families and everything seemed fine. We would trade off babysitting for each other and do different family activities together birthday parties, thanksgiving, Christmas and so on.
Years have passed and the kids are older now. The kids still enjoy seeing each other and playing. Everyone gets along… well almost everyone. My sister always knew how to get under my skin and would say things either “jokingly” or when no one was around say something to hurt me. I knew what she was doing but I would blow it off and act like it didn’t bother me. As time went on it got worse. And a few time someone would say something and she’d just say “it’s a joke.” Or “you know I didn’t mean anything by it”. Or “your too sensitive.” something similar.
I knew it wasn’t right and I knew if I had said those types of things to her she would have been pissed. Of course I would tell my parents everything that happened after a visit and of course he wasn’t happy. We both decided to go low contact for my mental health as it was taking a toll on me. We didn’t see them for about a year.
When it came to my relationship with my sister I was left wondering where I went wrong… why was my sister hated me so much that she felt she had to berated, belittle, compare, and be competitive towards me every time we saw them. I just couldn’t understand, I thought our childhood rivalry was over years ago. I thought maybe I was doing something unconsciously that upset her.
As it turns out maybe my mere existence upsets her and it’s not a reflection of me but of just how different we are. So one day I get a call from my sister’s husband Joey and they are separating. She’s bin on the Ashely Madison website and cheating for years and has a current bf. They both decided to divorce. He got the house and payed her out. They are doing 50/50 custody.
I came to find out that she has always had a problem with me and never wanted me there and I guess how she treated me was her way of letting me know that. Joey told me they would constantly fight about me and or how she treated me. And that we are family and the kids and so on. At some point she called me and told me about the situation and her new place and we should come have dinner sometime and see her new place. Then it became and meet my new bf and his family.
My husband had me text her to cancel the dinner as soon as it became a meet the bf, his family thing. I told her honestly that we weren’t ready to meet him and maybe in time. And honestly the reason we hadn’t seen them the last year was because of how she treated me.
She instantly snapped why would we need to wait to meet her bf? Why would that make a difference? If her leaving someone she wasn’t meant to be with meant we wouldn’t be in her life then so be it… I was shocked. I didn’t even know how to reply. We only just found out about the cheating and her moving out and already she wants us to meet him and isn’t understanding how that could be very uncomfortable.
For context we are Catholics. But our mother wasn’t a good example and we never went to church, my husband on the other hand is catholic as well. He was raised in a household that went to church every Sunday and holds the same beliefs as me that marriage isn’t something you just throw away. And cheating is disgusting…. He didn’t want to go and risk losing his shit on them let alone in front of his family. We don’t even know if his family knows the truth behind their relationship. We don’t want to meet him. And we were both upset that we know how hard it will most likely be on the kids.
Ending we are still in contact with Joey and the kids. We started doing family activities together again and we have offered Joey help with the kids or anything else… he is a great guys, great dad and honestly has handled the whole situation way better than anyone I know would have.

CAST:( Me 40F MY HUSBAND 43M daughter 20F son 20M daughter 16F son 9M daughter 10F daughter 6F DAUGHTER 4F SON 4M SON 6 MONTH )(DAD 60M)( BROTHER 43M SIL 42F NEPHEW 16M NIECE 18F NEPHEW 10M NIECE 9F) (SISTER 30F NIECE 18F).
TO GIVE NAMES:( ME40F ASIA )(MY HUSBAND 43M DEREK)(MY BROTHER43M JACEK)(MY SISTER 30F AGA )(MY DAD 60M DAREK)(MY SIL 42F ALICIA)(MY DAUGHTER 20F MAYA )(MY SON 20M ADRIEN)(MY DAUGHTER 16F)(MY SON 9M PATRICK)(MY DAUGHTER 10F SIENNA)(MY DAUGHTER 6F MARIA)(MY DAUGHTER 4F MELODY)(MY SON 4M LIAM)(MY SON 6 MONTH OLDM MICHELE)(MY NEPHEW 16M SAUL)(MY NIECE FROM SIL 18F MIE)(MY NEPHEW 10M ROBERT)(MY NIECE 9F SARAH)(MY NIECE FROM MY SISTER 18F MAY) ALL REAL NAMES I HAVE A PERMIT.
TO STAR THINGS OF I RAISED BY A SINGLE FATHER WITH TWO MORE KIDS ONE OF WICH I LOVE AND ONE THAT I HATED MY DAD WAS A DRUNK WE WERE LOWER MIDDLE CLASS MY DAD WAS ABUSIVE TOWARDS ME AND MY SISTER BUT NOT TO JACEK AKA THE GOLDEN CHILD ME THE FORGOTTEN ONE AND AGA THE SCAPE GOAT.
WHEN I WAS 16 JACEK WAS 19 TREW A PARTY WHEN DAD WAS OUT OF TOWN ONE OF THE MEN IN HIS FRIEND GROUP LIKED ME BUT I KEPT REJECTING HIM AGA WAS AT A CLASSMATES HOUSE FOR A SCHOOL ASSIGNMENT THE FRIEND BROUGHT HANDCUFS AND A GAG TO THE PARTY HE SAID TO JACEK HE WAS GOING TO THE BATHROOM HE ACTUALLY WENT INTO MY ROOM WHERE I WAS SLEEPING HE GAGED ME AND HANCUFED ME TO MY BED HE WOKE ME UP AND R@PED ME JACEK CAME TO CHEK ON HIM HE SAW WHAT HE WAS DOING AND JUST WALKED AWAY.
A WEEK LATER MY DAD CAME BACK HOME AND WE WENT TO THE DOCTOR BUCAUSE JACEK TOLD MY DAD HE JUST WANTED TO KNOW SOME THING THEN WE FOUND OUT I WAS PREGNANT MY DAD WAS SUPER RELIGIOUS SO HE MARIED ME OF TO JACEK S FRIEND I HAD THE BABY I WAS IN A ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP FOR 3 YEARS THEN I MET MY NOW HUSBAND DEREK AND WE HAD $EX THEN I WAS PREGNANT WITH HIS KID I MARRIED DEREK AFTER I FINISHED MY DIVORCE WITH JACEK S FRIEND I GOT OUR KIDS.
AFTER WE INVESTED IN TO A SMALL BUSINESS TO CUT IT SHORT IN 2 YEARS WE WERE BILLIONAIRES WE BOUGHT A SMALL HOUSE NEAR THE LAKE AND KEPT INVESTING IN OUR BUSINESS 5 YEARS LATER WE WERE VERY NEAR A TRILLION EURO THEN WE HAD OUR 4TH CHILD SIENNA 1 YEAR LATER WE HAD ANOTHER CHILD PATRICK WE MOVED TO A BIGGER HOUSE AND HAD ANOTHER CHILD 4 YEARS LATER AFTER ANOTHER 2 YEARS WE HAD TWINS MELODY AND LIAM .
6 MONTHS AGO I HAD ANOTHER ONE MICHELE.
WE WERE VERY HAPPY WE BOUGHT A 4 STORY IN A NICE HIGHER CLASS AREA WERE BILLIONAIRES RECENTLY I WAS SLEEPING AND I GOT A MESSAGE FROM MY SISTER THAT SHE GOT EVICTED I SAID THAT SHE CAN STAY IN OUR HOME UNTIL SHE CAN FIND A NEW PLACE.
MY NIECES BIRTHDAY WAS COMING UP SO WE I GOT HER A CAR NOTHING TOO FANCY JUST A HONDA 360 SHE WAS SO EXITED MY 20 YEAR OLD TWINS DRIVE FERRARIS.
MY ENTITLED SIDE OF THE FAMILY SOME HOW FOUND OUR WE WERE RICH AND NOW ARE TREATHINING US TO GIVE THEM MONEY .
MY OLDEST DAUGHTER IS GETTING MARRIED AND WE HAD AN AGREEMENT THAT I WILL PAY AND PLAN HER WEDDING WITH HER.
SO WE DECIDED TO HAVE AN ALL EXCLUSIVE WEDDING IN THE BAHAMAS THE CEREMONY WILL BE AT THE BEACH THE MEAL WILL BE AT THE HOTEL BIG PARTY ROOM AND THE PARTY WILL BE THERE TO WE WILL PAY FOR EVERITHING FROM THE FLOGHT TO THE HOTEL UP TO YOUR EXPENCESS.
NOW MY FATHER AND BROTHERS SIDE OF THE FAMILY ARE DEMANDING THAT THEY BE INVITED AND FOR MY NEPHEW TO PROPOSE AT HER WEDDING.
WHAT SHOULD I DO.

I just need some outside opinions on this. I had a tough time growing up as my brother was physically abusive towards me up until my early 20's. I will spare the details however my parents enabled this behavior and so this is just something we do not talk about and generally my brother ignores me if we ever see each other, which is maybe twice a year if that.
My sister sent out a text just to the siblings about meeting up for Mothers Day as we didn't get to on the day of. In the middle of the night I receive a group text with my sisters sent from my future sister-in-law saying she has never felt welcomed by us. She said her and my brother spoke about the group message and a txt of an invite to him is not an invite to her. It is odd since my sister in that group message said we should all bring our partners but I'm also a bit taken a back that someone about to marry into a family would txt something like this. She then said we are not giving her the same energy she gives us.
First, this was just a text between siblings and really not meant to cast out anyone. Second, my sisters and I have always been welcoming to her and I genuinely mean that. I will ask her about her life and her family, I made sure to congratulate them on their engagement. I don't let the unresolved issues I have with my family change how I treat her but I do make sure to set some boundaries when it becomes too much for me. For example she did ask to meet up in person earlier in their relationship and I did mention I was busy at the time and deferred to seeing them during the holiday but it is because of the lack of a relationship I have with my brother. I don't go out of my way to get to know her outside of functions we are at because I don't have a relationship with my brother and it is difficult for me as he abused me. I text him every birthday with no response back. I make sure to say hi to him and her and ask them questions about their lives if we are together. Every partner I have had has mentioned something about the way my brother treats me and ignores my presence. They have even commented on how my mother will put me down and compliment him in front of people which has been really hard to explain to them that this is how it is for me. This is the family dynamic.
I don't think my future SIL knows about the abuse and honestly I don't want to talk about it with her. When I got older I just accepted my family will be unfair in this situation but I'll try to be the 'bigger person' in and still try to be supportive. My own family has a hard time recognizing this so obviously this isn't something I feel comfortable speaking about to someone coming into the family. I just thought the text was a bit selfish as it just assumes we are coming from a bad place but also it was my sister that texted for the plans so unsure why you would text all of us about excluding you when no other partners were added. Whenever I do see my brother he is not kind to me or ignores me altogether. He also never texts or acknowledges my partner if they are ever present. She definitely notices this as she will be in the room as it happens. My partner will also notice so clearly it's obvious my brother and I do not have a normal relationship. I'm not sure what to say to this. I just feel really sad and weird. I'm not trying to leave her out but this guy abused me and it's bad enough my own family doesn't understand. People are just so quick to think the worst in others I guess.

I've heard horror stories of single Christian women being played, cheated, manipulated and led into sexual sin by men who claim to be Christians.
These women thought the men were good Christians but later down the line showed their true colors.
I also know a close sister in the Lord who has been led into fornication by a man who claims to be a Christian but doesn't live the life.
I think we know better to avoid unbelievers as a potential spouse. But we know Satan disguised himself as an angel of light.
It's the people who claim Christ but live contrary to his way that are the most dangerous people for a Christian to pick as a spouse.
This is why you need to (I feel this is a bit more important for women to do) VET the heck out of your potential mate and make sure he/she truly has a relationship with Jesus and is bearing fruit as evidence. Living according to God's word and Christ's teachings.