My sister cracked my rib during a heated argument. Blood was seeping out. I reached for my phone to call the police, but Mom yanked it away, snapping, “It’s just a rib, don’t destroy her future.” Dad scoffed, calling me a drama queen. They had no clue what I’d do next…

My Sister Broke My Rib in a Fight — My Mom Laughed “Don’t Call the Cops, It’ll Ruin Her Life

It started in a kitchen filled with tension, where laughter used to echo off the tiled walls. But now everything sounded like knives. My sister, Vanessa, stood across from me.

Red-faced, fists clenched, her voice a pitch higher than rage itself. I told you not to touch my things, she screamed, shoving a chair aside. I didn’t, I protested, holding the glass of water I came for, the only thing I had touched.

I don’t even go in your room.That didn’t stop her.

She stormed across the kitchen and before I could process anything, she slammed me against the fridge. Her elbow crushed into my ribs, sharp and fast. I felt something crack.

My knees buckled and I dropped the glass. It shattered, echoing my own disbelief. I gasped, holding my side, pain crawling up my spine like fire ants.

Mom! I screamed. She hurt me. Something’s not right.

I can’t. But from the living room came a slow, lazy voice. Oh honey, not again.

I looked toward the hallway, expecting concern. But mom didn’t even get off the couch. She didn’t ask what happened, didn’t look at my face, twisted in agony.

Instead, she sighed and rolled her eyes like I was an inconvenience. She didn’t mean it. Don’t be dramatic, mom muttered, brushing popcorn crumbs off her lap.

And don’t even think about calling the cops. That’ll go on her record. She’s still applying for jobs.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was 23 years old. I had been working part-time and studying, trying to get out of this toxic house….