Reddit Stories - Guardians expelled me and APPROPRIATED my EDUCATIONAL savings when my sibling IMPREGNATED his

Episode Date: June 28, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #siblings #familydrama #financialabuse #betrayal #personalresponsibilitySummary: Guardians expelled me and appropriated my educational savings when my sibling impregnated his.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, guardians, expelled, appropriated, educational savings, sibling, impregnated, family drama, financial abuse, betrayal, personal responsibility, relationships, conflict resolution, moral dilemma, financial ethics, educational fundsBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Guardians expelled me and appropriated my educational savings when my sibling impregnated his significant other, asserting it was divine will. Presently, they reached out desperately for assistance when they were becoming homeless. I'm Ellis, 26M now. Grew up in a house that looked normal enough from the outside. Parents were big into their faith. Everything tied back to God's will or God's plan.

I had a younger brother, Gene. There was always something off with Gene, even when we were kids. He just took things. Not just objects, but attention, space, opportunities. Parents always made excuses for him, said he was sensitive or misunderstood. My focus growing up was getting out, getting an education, making something of myself independently. My parents had a college fund set up, supposedly for both of us, though Jean never showed much interest in anything beyond whatever was easy. That fund felt like my ticket out, my future secured.

It was in an account under their names, but they'd always pointed to it as for your education. Things started getting really tense when Jean was around 17, still living at home, bouncing between dead-end part-time jobs he couldn't keep. He started seeing this girl, Flora. She wasn't from around our town, didn't have family nearby, and latched onto Jean and, by extension, our house, pretty quick. She was quiet at first, but you could tell she was just waiting for an angle. Parents thought she was sweet, a good influence on Jean. I saw someone looking for a soft place to land, and our house was a motel with free meals and laundry.

Flora basically moved in without anyone explicitly saying it. Her stuff just appeared. She was always there. Eating our food, using our shower, taking up space on the couch. My room was the only place I had any privacy left. Argument started because I was the one who had to share my space more, navigate around her being everywhere. I'd complain to my parents. They'd tell me I needed to be more welcoming, that Family helps family, even though she wasn't family. Jean, when confronted, would just shrug or get defensive, acting like I was the problem for not wanting his girlfriend living with us rent-free. Parents always backed him up, saying I was being selfish.

The tension ratcheted up when I was applying for colleges. I was focused, working hard, getting good grades. Jean was doing nothing. Parents kept bringing up the college fund, talking about how proud that you. they were of my drive, how that money was waiting for me. Meanwhile, Flora was getting louder, more demanding. She and Jean would have loud arguments late at night, wake people up. Parents would just sigh and tell me to go back to sleep. It felt like the house was shrinking, being taken over by Jean and Flora's chaos, and my parents were enabling it, pushing me into a corner. Then Flora got

pregnant. I walked into the living room one evening, and Flora was crying, Jean was looking dumbfounded, and my parents were. Strangely calm. Serene, almost. They told me Flora was pregnant. Jean confirmed he was the father, looking like he'd just been told the sky was falling. My parents immediately went into damage control mode, but not in the way you'd expect. It wasn't about Jean screw up or how they were going to support him. It was about this new baby, this miracle. Suddenly, Flora was family, immediately integrated, more important than she was before. The focus shifted to her needs, their needs. My stomach dropped when my mom started talking about how they needed space. How my room was the biggest spare one. How it would make a perfect nursery.

Just like that, my room, the only place in that house that felt like mine, was gone. I pushed back. Hard. I told them they couldn't just decide that. That I needed that room. I was applying for colleges. I had my life here. My dad cut me off, talking about how this was more important, a new life.

That's when I said it. I looked at Jean, at Flora, and at my life. my parents, and I said I wasn't going to pretend this was okay, that I wasn't going to welcome Jean, who had just proven he couldn't even take care of himself, into my space with his unplanned child and girlfriend who he basically snuck into the house. I said I wouldn't be a part of facilitating this mess. That set them off. My mom started crying, calling me heartless. My dad got that cold look he gets before he lays down the law. He said I had two choices, except Flora and the baby as part of the family and help them or get out. Right now.

I stood there for a second, I looked at Jean, who wouldn't meet my eyes, and Flora, who was watching me with the fake tears. I looked at my parents, their faces set, no warmth, just expectation that I would fold like I always had. But something snapped. All the years of being second best, of being told to accommodate Jean, of my space being invaded, it just boiled over. I told them I wouldn't accept it. I wouldn't pretend this was a happy event or that Jean was suddenly responsible. I said they were choosing this mess over me. My dad stood up, his face red.

He pointed at the door. Then get out. Now, I didn't move fast enough for him. He came towards me, grabbed my arm hard, started pulling me towards the front. door. I yanked my arm away. That's when things got physical. He shoved me towards the hallway. I stumbled, hit the wall. He grabbed my arm again, tighter this time. I twisted away, put my hands up to keep him off me. He was shouting, calling me ungrateful, disrespectful. My mom was screaming. Gene and Flora were just watching from the living room. My dad kept trying to

physically force me towards the door. I pushed him back, just trying to create space, to get him off me. He swung at me. I blocked it, he lunged again. I dodged him and made for the door myself. As I reached for the doorknob, my mom yelled after me, fine. Go. And don't expect a penny. That college fund. It's gone. We needed it for the nursery. For the base. For the bay. You It's God's plan, Ellis. This is God's plan for you. My hand froze on the doorknob. Gone.

The college fund. My future. Used for this. For a room for Jean and Flora's unplanned baby. For a situation they created and my parents enabled. God's plan. That was their justification. For kicking me out, for stealing my future.

my future. I turned back, looking at them, my parents, my brother, Flora. Their faces were a mix of anger, accusation, and in my parents' eyes, that terrifying, self-righteous conviction. They actually believed what they were doing was right, sanctioned by their faith. I didn't say another word. I opened the door, walked out, and they slammed it shut behind me. I was outside, the door locked. It was getting dark. I had nothing but the clothes I was wearing in my phone. No wallet. Nothing. Just. Outside. Kicked out. College fund gone. My family had just thrown me away and taken the only resource I had for my future. The first night was hell. I just walked. Didn't know where to go. Ended up sleeping behind a dumpster in a strip mall parking lot.

Woke up freezing, stiff, and numb. Hunger said in quick. I didn't know anyone I could ask for help. No close friends whose parents were taken a random kid kicked out by his family. Survival mode kicked in. I found a public library, used a computer to look up resources, shelters, food banks, anything. It was overwhelming. Found a soup kitchen.

Got a meal, the first thing I'd eaten. in over 24 hours. It tasted like ash. I spent the next few days bouncing between the library, the soup kitchen, and trying to find a safe place to crash at night. I was filthy, exhausted, and terrified. I knew I couldn't stay like that. I had to find work. Any work. I started going into every business I could find that looked like it might hire someone with no experience, no references, no address. Got a lot of rejections. Walked miles every day.

Finally, a greasy spoon diner took pity on me. Needed a dishwasher. Cash under the table for a few shifts to start. It was grueling, hot, non-stop work, but it was money. Enough for cheap, terrible food and eventually, a few nights in a disgusting, pay-by-the-week motel room that smelled of stale smoke and desperation. I worked like a machine. Took every shift they offered.

Saved every single dollar I could. Didn't buy anything I didn't absolutely need. Found a slightly less terrible rooming house situation, shared bathroom, thin walls, but it was stable and marginally cleaner. Started looking for better jobs, stacking applications everywhere. Lied about my address, used the diner as a reference initially, then the rooming house landlord vouched for me loosely. It took months.

Grinding, exhausting months. Working minimum wage jobs, sometimes two at a time, just to survive and save. Eating ramen, instant anything, whatever was cheapest. I didn't reach out to my parents. They didn't reach out to me. Not a call, not a text, nothing. It was clear they meant it. I was out.

erased. Their God's plan involved me being homeless and struggling while they built a nursery with my money. That understanding solidified something cold and hard inside me. Over the next few years, I slowly built something. Got a slightly better job in a warehouse. Saved enough for a beat-up car. Moved into my own tiny, run-down apartment. No college, obviously.

That door was shut tight. But I learned skills on the job, worked my way up. Took community college classes part-time, paying for them myself, dollar by dollar. Not towards a degree, just practical skills, welding, basic mechanics, things that got better pay. I didn't just survive, I built a new life. Based on nothing they gave me, only what they took. They were just a past life, a bad memory I buried deep. I had zero contact.

Changed my number, deleted social media they knew about. Vanished. As far as I was concerned, they didn't exist anymore. It's been eight years since I walked out that door. Eight years of silence. Eight years of building my own life from zero. I'm not rich, but I'm stable. Got a good job as a maintenance supervisor.

Own a small house I bought with cash I say. saved. No debt. I live a quiet life. Work, home, projects around the house. That's it. The past felt like a different lifetime. Until yesterday, I got a call. Unknown number. I usually let those go to voicemail, but I was expecting a work call. I answered. It was my mom. Her voice was shaky, full of tears. I didn't say anything at first, just listened. She was rambling, incoherent at times. Something about the house, losing it, needing help. My dad was apparently sick, Jean and Flora. Well, she didn't say much about them, but it sounded like they weren't in a position to help, maybe part of the problem. The house they kicked me out of, the house where they built a nursery with my

college fund, the house they called sacred and blessed. They lost it. Foreclosure. Bad investments? I don't know the details. She was too much of a mess. She was crying, talking about how they had nowhere to go, how they didn't know what to do, how they were facing homelessness. After eight years of silence, of not knowing if I was alive or dead, they were calling because they needed something. Because their plan fell apart. She finally choked out my name, asking if I could help them. If I had any money, if they could stay with me. I didn't feel pity.

I didn't feel anger either, not really. Just. A cold clarity. I thought about that night, standing outside with nothing and sleeping behind that dumpster. I thought about her words. It's God's plan, Ellis. This is God's plan for you. She was waiting for me to say something, still crying on the phone.

I took a breath. I used her exact words. Calmly. Mom, I said. My voice was steady. Remember what you told me when you kicked me out and took my college money? Silence on the other end, except for her ragged breathing. You said it was God's plan for me, I continued.

For me to be out, to figure it out on my own. Well, I said, maybe this is God's plan for you. To lose the house. To face this. I didn't wait for her to respond. I just hung up the phone. They haven't called back yet. I don't know what they're doing.

I don't know where they are. Was I wrong to do that? To use their own words against them and refused to help. They threw me away and stole my future, justified it with face. and came crawling back only when their own situation became desperate. After eight years of silence, they want me to fix their problem after they created mine and left me for dead. What do you even do in a situation like this?

Update 1 OK, didn't expect the sheer volume of responses to the original post. Read through a lot of them. Most people seemed to get it. A few didn't, trying to bring up family or forgive and forget, but those people clearly missed the point about being kicked out and having my future stolen. This wasn't a simple falling out, it was abandonment and financial destruction justified by twisted faith. A lot of people asked for more specifics about the brother and girlfriend situation leading up to the pregnancy and being kicked out. Yeah, the red flags with Jean and Flora were everywhere, my parents just ignored them or expected me to.

Flora wasn't working. Gene wasn't holding down jobs. They were draining my parents' money even before the baby. They'd borrow cash from my parents constantly, which led to friction because my parents would then cut back on household expenses or ask me to chip in more, even though I was still a student focused on school. I remember arguing with my dad about why I should pay for groceries while Jean and Flora blew money on stupid things.

He'd just say they're struggling and I had potential. The pregnancy timeline, it seemed like it was shortly after Flora fully moved in, maybe a couple of months. Not a long-term, committed relationship that happened to result in a surprise baby. It felt more like two people with no plans suddenly had a major consequence and immediately defaulted to relying completely on my parents. And my parents immediately decided this consequence. This unplanned pregnancy born of irresponsibility was a divine sign that they needed to sacrament. everything, including my future, to accommodate it. The God's plan justification wasn't a spur

of the moment thing. Regarding savings, I didn't have significant savings of my own. Any small amounts I made from part-time jobs went towards typical teenage expenses or occasionally contributing to the household. When my parents asked my focus and what my parents always directed me towards was academics and preparing for college applications. They constantly reassured me the college fund was my money for education handled by them for ease. They made it clear that was the plan. They'd cover the big expense with the fund. I just needed to focus on getting in. There was never any push for me to build substantial personal savings for tuition or living expenses because the explicit promise was that the fund would cover it. That's why losing it was

total devastation. I wasn't prepared with a backup because the supposed primary resource was guaranteed by them. And yes, zero contact for eight years meant zero contact. No birthday cards, no attempts to reach me through old friends. I didn't have many close ones in that town anyway and lost touch with the few I did know. No showing up at old haunts. Nothing. It was like they actively wanted me gone and forgotten. After I hung up the phone yesterday, I just sat there for a while. Their call brought all that buried history right to the surface. The fear of being homeless, the physical exhaustion of those first few months, the constant scraping by, the feeling of absolute betrayal over the college fund.

It wasn't just money, it was the symbol of their supposed support for my future, something they promised and then callously ripped away and used for the very situation that caused them to discard me. The thought of helping them, of letting them into the stable life I built entirely on my own. felt like a violation. It felt like letting the people who burned down my past walk into my present and potentially burn it down again. They didn't reach out because they were sorry for what they did. They reached out because they were in trouble and needed a solution. And I was the only potential solution left after eight years of silence. They didn't earn the right to ask for

my help. They forfeited at the moment they chose Jean and Flora and their God's plan over my basic well-being and future, and then slammed the door in my face. Using the God's plan line wasn't about being petty. It was the only language they seemed to understand. The framework they used to justify cruelty. I was giving their own twisted logic back to them. If faith dictated my suffering was part of a divine plan, maybe faith also dictated their current predicament was part of one too. It was a direct consequence of their actions and choices. The decision was already made the moment they chose to kick me out and steal my college fund. The call yesterday just gave me the opportunity to state the consequences of their actions back to them explicitly.

There was nothing to think about. They called back later that day. The number was different from the one mom had used earlier, not one I recognized either, but it was from the same general area code. I hesitated for a second, looking at the screen. Figured it was them. I answered. It was my dad. His voice was weaker than I remembered it being eight years ago, but even through the tremor,

the underlying expectation, the subtle hint of entitlement was still there. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. Launched straight into it, his voice tight with stress. He started talking about needing help, about how bad things were, how unexpected it all was. He recounted bits of what mom had said, the foreclosure. the house being gone, their lack of options. He didn't mention mom's previous call to me, didn't mention her breakdown or my response to her. It felt deliberate, like he was trying a different angle, maybe hoping I hadn't heard her yet, or that a direct appeal from him would

yield a different result. He was painting a picture of dire need, clearly trying to evoke sympathy, trying to make their current crisis the only thing that mattered. I didn't let him build momentum. him. I wasn't going to listen to a rehearsed plea. I cut him off fairly quickly, my voice even, calm. I spoke to Mom, I said. She told me what's happening. About the house. He stopped mid-sentence. He probably realized the reset button hadn't worked. But he recovered quickly, his voice picking up pace again, now focused entirely on the logistics of their disaster. They wanted a place to live just for a little while, he added, as if that made the request less monumental. A place to land, a temporary solution to their now critical problem.

I gave him the same answer I'd given her, using the same framing. There was no other answer to give. Dad, I said, remember eight years ago? When you kicked me out of the house, he didn't respond immediately. The silence stretched for a beat. and remember what mom said that night. I continued, pushing through the quiet. About my college fund?

About me being on my own. She said it was God's plan, I stated. That's when his voice changed, Ellis, don't do this, he started, his voice cracking slightly. Were your parents? We're family. You stopped being my parents the night you chose Jean and Flora and took my future, I told him, you made your choice. You validated it with your faith.

You said it was God's plan for me to be homeless and have nothing, while you used my money to build a life for them. I paused, letting that sink in. Maybe this is God's plan for you now. To lose your house. To face having nothing. To figure it out yourselves. That's when he snapped.

The last vestiges of pleading vanished, replaced by raw fury and indignation. He started shouting, his voice rising, spitting accusations down the phone line. Calling me cruel, heartless, saying I had no respect, that I was unchristian for abandoning my own family in their time of need. He yelled that I owed them, that they raised me, put a roof over my head, fed me. You raised me and then discarded me when it was inconvenient. I sat over his shouting, not raising my voice, just keeping it firm. You didn't just kick me out, you stole the only resource I had to build a future, justified it with God's plan, and left me to sink or swim.

I swam. You're sinking. You owe me eight years of struggle and a stolen future that I had to replace with backbreaking work. I'm not abandoning you. I'm just returning the favor. Accepting God's plan. just like you told me to. He kept shouting, a stream of accusations and demands. I listened for another second, the noise grating, but his words had no power over me anymore. They were just the

desperate noises of someone facing the consequences of their own actions. I didn't need to hear anymore. I just hung up the phone. They tried calling a few more times from various numbers, even left a couple of short, tearful voicemails from my mom pleading with me to reconsider, talking about how they were sleeping in their car. I didn't answer or listen past the first few seconds. I blocked the numbers. No contact since then. My life is back to being quiet.

Like a loose end was finally tied, brutally, but effectively. I don't know what they're doing or where they are. I haven't tried to find out. It's not my own. problem anymore. Their choices led them here. This is probably it. Unless something truly unexpected happens, I doubt they have another move. Thank you to everyone who read and responded. It helped to just put it all down and get that confirmation that I wasn't crazy for standing my ground. We'll update if there's anything significant, but I don't expect there to be. Update 2.

It's been about six months since I posted the original story and the first update. Nothing has changed regarding my parents. Absolutely zero contact since I hung up on my dad and blocked their numbers. No calls, no letters, no attempts to reach me through any back channels, which would have been difficult anyway given how thoroughly I cut ties years ago. It's just, silence again. I don't know where they ended up. If they found somewhere to stay, if they're still struggling, or what?

I haven't sought out any information. It feels strange to say, but after the initial brief disruption of their calls, their absence returned to being the normal state of things. As for my brother, Jean, and Flora, I also have no idea what their situation is. My mom's brief, tearful call hinted they weren't helping her and my dad, which wasn't surprising given their history of dependency and irresponsibility, but I don't have any specifics. They are as cut off from me as my parents are. They were part of the package deal that night eight years ago, the reason for the chaos, the recipients of the resources stolen from me,

and complicit by their presence in silence when I was kicked out. My own life has continued on its trajectory. Work is stable. The house is good. I've been focused on some rent. I've been focused on some renovation projects I've been putting off. Life is quiet, predictable. That's really it. This is almost certainly the final update. The situation reached its conclusion when I refused to engage and they ceased contact. There's nothing left to tell. Thank you again to everyone who read the story. Putting it out there and getting that feedback was a useful, if unexpected, experience.