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…

I just did, I replied. Don’t worry, I gave you 30 days. Vanessa tried to lunge at me again, but I didn’t flinch.

Because this time, I had everything I needed. And I wasn’t scared anymore. 30 days passed faster than I expected.

Vanessa spiraled. She tried applying for other jobs, but word had gotten around. HR departments talk, especially in her industry.

Apparently, nobody wanted a candidate associated with assault, false references, and parental cover-ups. Every time she opened her email and found another rejection, she’d scream, cry, threaten to sue me. But she didn’t.

Because deep down, she knew it was all true. Mom and dad tried guilt. First, it was the silent treatment.

Then came the gaslighting. You’ve always been dramatic. She didn’t mean to hurt you.

She just snapped. She was going through something. But not once, not once did they say the words I needed to hear.

We’re sorry. Instead, dad muttered, This house was never meant to be yours anyway. To which I smiled and replied, Funny, the paperwork says otherwise.

Vanessa had nowhere to go. And yet, instead of being humble, she stormed into my room the week before the move-out deadline, acting like I owed her a fresh start. You’re ruining everything for me.

She snapped. You’re so obsessed with being the victim. You forgot how to be a sister.

I stood calmly. Being your sister has meant bruises, silence, and pretending you’re normal when you’re not. I didn’t forget how to be one.

I just chose not to be abused for it anymore. She threw her coffee mug. It shattered inches from my face.

I didn’t flinch. I picked up the phone and said one word. Police.

She screamed again. But I didn’t hear the words, only the panic. The truth was, this wasn’t just about the fight…