The security system, that one was easy. I owned the subscription, had the admin login and installed every camera. One click on my phone, and the network unpaired.
Every camera blinked twice, then went dark. I deleted all the saved video logs while I was at it, just for good measure.
That’s when dad finally noticed something was wrong. I heard the front door open. He stepped out slowly, holding a halfeaten roll in his hand like he’d forgotten he was still eating.
“Alex, what’s going on?”
I didn’t turn around immediately. I was halfway through coiling the garden hose I bought. Because of course, there’s had a leak no one fixed for 2 years.
“Taking back the things I brought into this house,” I said, not even looking at him. “I figured it’s time I stopped pretending I belong somewhere I’m not welcome.”
He stood there silent. Then came the sigh. That familiar, tired sigh he used every time he didn’t want to confront something.
“This isn’t necessary. Let’s not make a scene.”
I stood up straight and turned to face him. “You think this is a scene? What Ryan said back there wasn’t a scene. What Denise does to me year after year, that’s not a scene. You’ve stood by every time she’s cut me out of family photos, forgotten my birthday, told the caterer I wasn’t part of the guest count, and you said nothing. So, no, Dad. This is me finally saying something.”
He didn’t answer, just looked at me like I was overreacting, like I was the problem.
I smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to yell. I’m not going to break anything. I’m just going to finish collecting what’s mine, and then I’m done.”
And I meant it.
Over the next hour, I dismantled the patio lighting, my gift two eers ago, pulled the smart TV from the living room wall. Denise had wanted something sleek, and even removed the backup generator I bought during last year’s power outage.
Everything I paid for. Every little thing they had grown used to having, but never once thanked me for.
Ellie never came back out. Ryan didn’t bother pretending to help. Denise—she stood in the kitchen window, arms crossed, face unreadable.
She didn’t look angry. She looked inconvenienced, as if I were interrupting her meal prep.
When the car was full, I opened the trunk and placed one final box inside. It was the custom Easter centerpiece I made out of wood and hand painted ceramic eggs.
Denise had praised it once to a neighbor, called it charming, then told me not to bring anything so rustic next time. I took it anyway.
I left nothing behind that had my fingerprint on it.