My Mom’s Ex Tried To Kick Me Out After She Passed — But I Was One Step Ahead

The door slammed.
For the first time in the evening, Rick looked nervous. He turned back to me. “Observe, child—”
I held out my hand. “Stop referring to me as a kid.”
He groaned and rubbed his face. “All right, listen up. We can work something out.” He gestured around. “I’ve been living here for a year. It must have some value.”
They adjusted Mr. Thompson’s glasses. Indeed, it does. You have been occupying this property unlawfully without a lease. If you don’t leave of your own free will, the owner may prosecute you with trespassing.
Rick swallowed.
“Pressing charges?” I repeated, tilting my head. “Is that a possibility?”
Rick’s eyes widened. “Whoa, we must not lose our minds.”
There was a knock on the door. This time, I didn’t even have to move since Mr. Thompson did it. There were two uniformed policemen inside when he unlocked it.
“Sir.” One of them called Rick that. “You have a full day to vacate the premises.”
Rick combed his hair and looked from the police to me. “Where do you suppose I’ll go?”
I shrugged. “It’s not my problem.”
The officer took a step forward. “I advise you to begin packing, sir.”
Rick ceased his argument.
That night, I sat in my room listening to the sounds of drawers opening, boxes shifting, and bags being pulled across the floor. I anticipated feeling angry, relieved, or triumphant.
I was emotionless.
I lay on my bed and looked at the ceiling. It had taken a year to get here. I watched Rick take over my home and behave as like I didn’t belong for a full year.
Not any more.
I suppose I must have fallen asleep because the house was silent when I woke up.
For the first time in a year, the house was mine.
I sat in the centre of the room, taking it all in. There was no eerie quiet. There was silence.
I went over to the mantle. My mother’s picture was back where it belonged. I had found it in a drawer, buried beneath several of Rick’s useless possessions. I ran my fingers over the frame.
I whispered to myself, “I did it, Mom.”
Being kind can occasionally be mistaken for weakness. But standing up for myself? That’s how I got my power back.