Mom Begged Me to Help My Sister Who Broke Her Car in a Accident. I Sa-id Yes, but When...

Mom begged me to help my sister, who broke her car in an accident. I said yes, but when I arrived, she forced me to stay in a hotel, then started treating me like her personal servant. Growing up, my older sister, Kim, was always a source of tension and pain for me.

From as far back as I can remember, she harbored a deep-seated jealousy that shaped our relationship in ways that were far from what you would consider healthy. While many people encounter bullies in their lives, mine wasn't at school or in the neighborhood; mine lived right under the same roof, sharing the same home with me. Even as a young child, I quickly learned that my sister could be quite mean and aggressive, especially when she was angry or jealous of me.

Kim would always push me around or pinch me so hard that I would end up in tears if I dared to cross her in any way—whether by not listening to her or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She would retaliate by taking something of mine, usually my toys or my books, which were a big deal to me at the time. Kim would kick me occasionally at school, knowing that I could not stand up to her there since she was always surrounded by her friends.

I remember feeling powerless, unable to defend myself against her because she was older and stronger than me. One afternoon, my sister convinced me that she would give me a haircut using some play scissors. Now, I had long, blonde hair as a child and would always be admired for it.

I tried to talk Kim out of giving me a haircut, but she kept pushing and pushing, so I just gave in. She started cutting my hair, and it wasn't just a small snip. Obviously, she had no experience, and we were stupid to even do this, but she hacked away at my hair even when I asked her to stop.

I remember feeling devastated as I watched clumps of my hair fall to the floor. The haircut was so bad that I burst out crying. She only laughed, looking at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

When my dad saw what had happened, he rushed me to a salon, but there was little that could be done. The only solution was to cut it all short—much shorter than I ever wanted. It was a heartbreaking experience for me.

As difficult as my sister was, what made the situation even harder to bear was the fact that my mother always seemed to take her side. Whenever I cried and went to my mom for comfort, hoping she would understand and protect me, she would dismiss my feelings, saying things like, “Sisters fight sometimes" or "I used to do the same with my sisters when I was young. ” Her words made me feel like my pain didn't matter.

My dad saw what was happening and would try to discipline my sister whenever she crossed the line, but every time he did, my mother would intervene—not to support me, but to protect Kim. She would scold my dad, telling him not to be so harsh with my sister. My mother would then scold me instead for not standing up for myself and getting Dad to do my dirty work.

Amidst all the challenges I faced growing up at home, I was fortunate to meet Jasper, my high school boyfriend who would eventually go on to become my husband. From the very beginning, Jasper was different from anyone else in my life. He was always there for me.

When we started dating, it didn't take him long to notice the stark differences in how my mother treated me compared to my sister. One thing that always stood out to Jasper was the way my mother would criticize my appearance while letting my sister Kim do whatever she pleased. If Kim and I were both getting ready to go out, my mom would always praise Kim's choices no matter what she wore while finding fault with mine.

It didn't matter if I thought I looked good or felt confident; my mother always had something to say. She would often make remarks about my outfit, suggesting that I wear more girly clothes, warning me that if I didn't, my man might leave me. She would always comment that I was wearing too much makeup or very little makeup.

My mom had made these comments once or twice in front of Jasper when he had come over for dinner at my house. I could see how much it bothered him, but he would try to keep his mouth shut. Normally, Jasper wasn't the type to just sit back and let things slide.

Hence, the third time he had come over to our place and my mother again started with me about my clothes and makeup, Jasper immediately stepped in to support me. He calmly but firmly told my mother that he liked the way I dressed and that he saw no issues with it. His defense of me caught my mother off guard.

She laughed awkwardly, trying to brush off her comments as if they were just jokes, but we all knew better. As much as things were difficult between me and my sister, we had somehow managed to keep our relationship on relatively stable ground despite the weekly fights and underlying tension. But everything took a turn for the worst the day she brought her boyfriend, Derek, home for the first time.

The moment Derek laid eyes on me, he blurted out, “Wow, Kim! I had no idea your younger sister is so hot. ” The words hung in the air—awkward and inappropriate.

Kim immediately glared at Derek, and then, as if I was somehow to blame for his crude remark, she turned and shot daggers at me. At me with her eyes, I smiled awkwardly, even though I found his comment to be in extremely poor taste. As the afternoon went on, I tried to stay out of Derrick's way, focusing on helping my mom in the kitchen or finding excuses to busy myself elsewhere.

But by the evening, when we all settled in to watch a movie together as a family, it became impossible to completely avoid him. We were all in the same room, and that's when I started noticing something even more unsettling: I could feel Derek's eyes on me, staring at me a little too long from across the room. It wasn't just a casual glance; every time our eyes met, he would flash a slight, creepy smile before turning his attention back to the TV, as if he was doing this intentionally.

As a woman, you develop a sense for these things—an intuition that tells you when a man is looking at you in a way that feels wrong. Derek's gaze made my skin crawl; it was persistent, and it made me incredibly uncomfortable. I found myself shrinking into my seat, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping he would stop.

I avoided his gaze as much as I could and tried to focus on the movie, but it was hard to concentrate with the knowledge that he was watching me like that. After the movie ended, Kim made an announcement that caught me off guard: Derrick would be staying over in her room because it was too late for him to drive back home. Despite feeling uneasy about Derrick's earlier behavior, I tried to push my concerns aside.

After all, I had no choice in the matter anyway. Later that night, I woke up with a craving for a midnight snack and remembered that I had a half-eaten chocolate bar stashed away in the fridge. I quietly made my way downstairs, hoping to grab it and head back to bed without making any noise.

But as I entered the kitchen, I was startled to see Derek standing there, shirtless, rummaging through our kitchen drawers. My first instinct was to turn and run back to my room, but then I reminded myself that this was my house; he was the guest, not me. Trying to stay calm, I ignored him and walked straight to the fridge, retrieving my chocolate.

Derek turned and looked at me, seemingly surprised that I was there, but I continued to ignore him, keeping my focus on the chocolate bar as I prepared to head back upstairs. As I started to leave the kitchen, he suddenly called out, asking if I wanted an omelet. His tone was casual, as if it was perfectly normal to be making small talk with his girlfriend's younger sister in the middle of the night while standing shirtless.

I firmly yelled back, “No! ” and quickly walked toward the staircase, my heart pounding. But before I could reach the top, I heard him running after me.

In an instant, he grabbed me by the back of my shirt, pulling me back slightly. My heart raced as alarm bells went off in my head. He asked me if he had done something to piss me off, as if he couldn't understand why I was avoiding him and running away.

Panic surged through me, and I yelled at him to stop chasing me and to leave me alone. I yanked myself free and bolted up the stairs, slamming my bedroom door behind me, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. The next morning, I knew I had to tell my parents what had happened.

I sat down with them and recounted the incident, emphasizing how uncomfortable Derek had made me feel throughout the day and how he was wandering around our home shirtless. My dad listened carefully and immediately assured me that Derek would not be allowed to stay over again. His response was firm and protective, and I felt a small sense of relief knowing that he believed me and was taking action to keep me safe.

But when Kim found out, she exploded with anger. She accused me of being jealous of her relationship with Derek, yelling at me in front of our parents that I was probably making everything up just to ruin things between them. Her words cut deep.

I tried to explain to her how uncomfortable Derek had made me feel, how his behavior in the kitchen had scared me, how he had run after me to confront me, but she didn't care. She was too blinded by her attachment to him to see what was really happening. Even my mother felt like I was overreacting about Derek and that he seemed like a nice boy.

Fortunately, my dad was on my side, so Kim was banned from ever bringing him home again. This whole situation made things even worse between me and my sister. I couldn't understand how my own sister could choose to believe her boyfriend over me, especially when I had nothing to gain by making up such a story.

It was as if, in her eyes, I was the me, someone trying to sabotage her happiness. After the whole ordeal with Derek, my sister made it her mission to keep her personal life as far away from me as possible. Whenever she was dating someone new and planned to bring him home for lunch or dinner, she would ask me to stay over at my best friend's place for the night or find some other excuse to be out of the house so her boyfriends would not have to meet me.

While I didn't mind getting out of the way most of the time, it was definitely inconvenient, especially when I had other plans or just wanted to relax at home. Fortunately, after I moved out to attend college, I didn't have to deal with this strange and uncomfortable situation anymore. Uncomfortable arrangement anymore.

I was admitted to one of the best universities in the country on a scholarship, and my parents were incredibly proud of me. I remember the day they visited my campus for the first time; they were absolutely blown away. My mother, who was never one to freely give compliments, actually praised me for my hard work.

Though her words were begrudging and felt somewhat forced, they meant a lot to me because they were so rare. My father, of course, was beaming with pride. He had always been supportive of my academic pursuits, and seeing me get into such a prestigious institution was a validation of the faith he had always placed in me over the years.

But while my parents celebrated my achievement, my sister never congratulated me on getting into college. It was clear to me that my success didn't sit well with her. Unlike me, my sister had taken a gap year after high school, and that gap year eventually turned into a permanent break from college.

She never went back to school and instead took up a job at my dad's golf club as a card attendant. What had started as a part-time gig to earn some extra money had turned into her full-time job. She told everyone how much she enjoyed the work, especially because it came with great tips; for her, that seemed to be enough.

While I was focused on my studies and planning for a future that I hoped would be fulfilling and meaningful, she seemed content with where she was, even if it meant staying in a job that didn't offer much in the way of long-term prospects. Over the years, the more I excelled in my studies and moved forward with my life, the more it seemed to bother my sister. Rather than being happy for me, my success seemed to fuel my sister's resentment even more.

Every time I came home during my college breaks, it was as if she made it her mission to bring me down a notch. She would find subtle ways to show her displeasure, often wrapped in backhanded comments that left me feeling uneasy. For instance, she would point out how thin my hair was getting, which was true to some extent because of the stress I was under, but instead of showing concern, she'd suggest that I was probably failing in college and that I should stop trying to be someone I'm not, implying that I was pushing myself too hard and needed to learn to take it easy.

Whenever I achieved something academically and my parents expressed their pride, she would immediately dismiss it, claiming that the courses I was taking must have been easy. It was her way of minimizing my accomplishments. Despite the sting of her words, I did my best to ignore her comments.

I didn't want to waste my energy trying to convince her of my academic abilities. After I graduated from college, Jasper and I took the next step in our relationship and moved in together while continuing to work at our respective jobs. Living with Jasper was a revelation for me; it was the first time I felt completely at ease in my own home.

There was no tension, no walking on eggshells—just the comfort of being with someone who loved and accepted me for who I was. Eventually, Jasper and I got married, and we now live in a much bigger place. Over the years, it's just been the two of us, and we're completely content with our lives.

We don't have children, but that's something we've both agreed on and are happy with. Instead, we've focused on building our lives together, saving money, traveling to multiple countries, and indulging in the expensive hobbies we both enjoy. In stark contrast, my sister Kim continues to live with our parents even today.

At one point, she did move out with a boyfriend, but that relationship ended in tragedy when he physically abused her and kicked her out. With no savings and nowhere else to go, she had to move back home again. It was a heartbreaking situation, and I did feel bad for her; however, my sister never learned from her mistake and has continued to date trashy guys even after that.

This is why, over the years, my mother has grown increasingly frustrated with my sister's behavior. Their relationship, which used to be so close and easygoing, has become strained and rocky. Since I lived in another city, I seldom went back home, so Kim and I had drifted even more apart over time, to the point where we barely exchanged any calls or texts.

One night, I was jolted awake by a phone call from my mother. It was the middle of the night, and her voice trembled as she informed me that my sister had been in a serious car accident. The shock of the news hit me like a wave.

I stayed up for hours anxiously waiting for updates from my parents. They called me regularly to keep me informed about my sister's condition, which was critical. As much as our relationship had soured over the years, she was still my older sister, and the idea of her being seriously hurt was terrifying.

I wanted to fly back home immediately to be there for her and my parents, but my dad, knowing how demanding my job was, assured me that they would take care of everything. He told me that my sister would be okay and that there was no need for me to disrupt my work. Despite his reassurances, I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that gnawed at me.

I wanted to be there to help in some way. My sister ended up staying in the hospital for a month due to the severity of her injuries. During that time, my mother took on the full responsibility of caring.

For her, even when my sister was discharged, she had to take bed rest at home to continue to recover. Hence, I decided to have a conversation with my parents about hiring a full-time nanny to help take care of my sister. Given how exhausted my mother was and the challenges she was facing, it seemed like the most practical solution, and I was willing to pay for everything.

However, when my sister found out about this plan, she was furious. She yelled at me for putting terrible ideas into our parents' heads, insisting that she wasn't an invalid and that she wasn't comfortable with a stranger helping her out. I tried to explain how much strain this was putting on our mother, but my sister cut me off, telling me to mind my own business.

In the end, my parents didn't force her to agree to the nanny, likely because they felt bad for her and wanted to avoid any further conflict. Then just two weeks ago, I received a call from my mother. She was in tears, her voice trembling with exhaustion and desperation.

She begged me to come back home, explaining that she felt utterly drained from taking care of my sister and couldn't handle it alone anymore. She pleaded with me to take a break from my job or even leave it if necessary, and come stay with her for at least two months. It was clear that she was at her breaking point, and I felt extremely guilty about it.

I told her that I would think about it and discuss the situation with Jasper. He was completely against the idea, knowing all too well how my sister had mistreated me over the years. He was concerned about the toll it would take on me, both emotionally and mentally.

But despite his reservations, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had a moral obligation to help my mother, who was clearly in need. I explained to Jasper how much this meant to me, and eventually, he understood my position. He recognized that my mother was in a difficult situation and that I felt a duty to support her.

Hence, I approached my boss to discuss taking some time off. Thankfully, my boss was understanding and granted me a one-month leave. Additionally, I was allowed to work from home for the following month, as long as I completed all my assignments.

This was the best outcome I could have hoped for—a compromise that allowed me to be there for my family while still maintaining my job. Feeling relieved and somewhat optimistic about the situation, I booked my tickets in hopes of surprising my mother and prepared to fly back home. Although I knew this wouldn't be an easy time, I was determined to do what I could to help my mother and make the best of the circumstances.

When I finally arrived home, my sister Kim was the one who opened the door. I was taken aback to see her, as she looked weary, leaning heavily on crutches to support her. She was stunned to see me as well.

I greeted her with a smile and moved in to hug her, but she appeared indifferent. She asked me sharply what on earth I was doing there. I explained that I was there to surprise Mom and to help out however I could.

Hearing this, Kim's face twisted in anger. She told me that I had no right to just show up unannounced and that she didn't appreciate my presence. She even had the audacity to suggest that I wait outside until Mom came back home.

As she railed at me, I tried to stay calm, but it wasn't easy. I reminded her that this wasn't her decision to make and that it was actually Mom who had asked me to come home to help her out since she was exhausted. I pushed past her into the house with my luggage, telling her that she could ask Mom if she didn't believe me.

Kim turned, and with a loud slam, retreated into her room, leaving me standing in the hallway, feeling both frustrated and disheartened. Later, when Mom returned from the store, she was genuinely happy to see me. She rushed to give me a warm hug, the kind of hug that made all the stress of the journey and the tension with Kim seem momentarily worth it.

We made small talk and started unpacking the groceries together, but then Kim emerged from her room, still seething, and confronted Mom, demanding to know if it was true that she had invited me back to help take care of her. When Mom confirmed it, a heated argument erupted between the two of them. Kim accused Mom of betraying her and of embarrassing her by inviting me to help her out, especially when she knew how much she disliked me.

Mom, trying to stay calm, asked Kim what the real issue was, why my presence was such a big deal. She urged her to get over our past. That's when Kim broke down, tears streaming down her face.

She cried out, saying that all her life, she had always been looked down on because of my accomplishments and that she didn't want me anywhere near her at such a vulnerable time. She confessed that she was still reeling from the accident, still struggling with her recovery, and having me there every moment only amplified her insecurities and frustrations over her own life. Kim went on to say that if we truly cared about her well-being, I would leave and stay in a hotel instead of in the house with them.

It was heartbreaking to realize that despite everything, despite all the years that had passed, the old wounds between us had never really healed. My mom and I tried to talk her out of it and told her how ridiculous she sounded, but she insisted that she didn't want me. Living with them, in the end, I reluctantly agreed to Kim's demand and left to stay at a nearby hotel.

My dad was absolutely furious with Kim for treating me this way, but I reassured him that I would be fine. I knew how much Kim was struggling, and I wanted her to feel comfortable while she recovered, even if it meant I had to sacrifice my own comfort. I convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, by doing this for her, she would try to mend our broken relationship.

Over the next few days, I came over and spent a few hours at my parents' house, helping out my mom wherever I could. Kim avoided me as much as she could and refused to talk to me. Every morning before coming over, I would text her to see if she wanted me to buy her breakfast, hoping that this was a way to reconnect.

Unfortunately, Kim saw this as an opportunity to take advantage of me. She began treating me like an on-call maid, constantly ordering me to bring her food or fetch things for her just because she knew that she didn't have to pay for anything. At first, I tried not to complain, but gradually, Kim's demands grew more unreasonable, and her attitude became more hostile.

She would bark orders at me and snap if I didn't get something exactly right. It felt like I couldn't do anything to please her, no matter how hard I tried. The breaking point came when I brought her a coffee from her favorite coffee place, and she exploded in anger because it didn't have any foam.

Without warning, she hurled the cold coffee at me and yelled at me for being worthless. I was so pissed at her behavior that I finally snapped. I told her she was acting like a child and that I was done being her servant.

I told her that she should be grateful that I was even there to help out since Mom was clearly getting sick of her. I was so angry that I spat out that maybe she deserved the pain she was going through and that it was karma for how she had treated others, including me, all these years. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had crossed a line, but I was just too angry to care at that moment.

I stormed out of her room, leaving her in stunned silence. I knew my words were harsh and not truly how I felt, but the damage was done. Since that confrontation, Kim has been calling our cousins and other relatives, painting me as the villain in this situation.

She's been telling everyone how I'm a spoiled brat, how I lashed out at her when she was at her most vulnerable, and how this is exactly why she didn't want me around in the first place. Now I'm torn. On one hand, I feel terrible for what I said.

I know it wasn't right, and I hate that I let my anger get the best of me. On the other hand, I'm exhausted from constantly being treated like the bad guy, especially when all I wanted to do was help. **Update One:** I would like to clarify that I have reached out and apologized to my sister already for what I said to her.

My parents understand that I said this only out of frustration. Also, a lot of people have pointed out that my sister might be suffering from depression, and I think this might be true based on her behavior. I plan on telling my parents to convince my sister to see a therapist about her issues.

**Update Two:** I spoke with my husband about the situation, and he strongly urged me to return home immediately, expressing his frustration over how my sister has been treating me. I have informed my parents that I've had enough and we will be going back home. If they decide to hire a full-time nanny to help with my sister, I'll be more than willing to cover the cost, as I feel guilty about my mom handling everything on her own.

However, I'm firm in my decision to not spend another moment dealing with Kim. Kim has also refused to seek therapy and continues to blame me for her behavior. **Update Three:** It's been a few days since I have come back home to Jasper.

I am fully enjoying my remaining days of leave, dedicating my time to reading and relaxing by the pool. I intend to return to work next month, but for now, I'm focusing on taking care of myself. Before I left my hometown, I did confront my sister one last time.

I told her how her behavior has been hurtful to me throughout our lives and how she has continued to act like a bully. I pointed out that despite being an adult, she still depended on our parents like a child, and she should definitely take a long, hard look at her life and think about improving it, since our parents were getting too old to take care of her. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and she yelled back that she knew what she was doing and that I had no right to lecture her about her life.

She then asked me to get out of her room, as she always does. I agree with many of the comments, and I can't help but feel that my parents share some of the blame. They've always coddled my sister and never pushed her to be more independent or responsible.

Now it seems like they're stuck with her forever.