The first session was Wednesday, and he came back telling everyone the therapist was an idiot who didn’t understand real trauma. By the second session on Friday, the therapist called my parents with concerns about Norman’s resistance to treatment, but said they’d continue trying. Sunday, we went to church like always, and Cordelia pulled dad aside after the service to tell him she’d seen Norman behind the grocery store Thursday afternoon smoking weed with some high school kids who were known troublemakers.

Dad’s face went completely still when she told him, and I could see him finally starting to realize the Norman problem went way deeper than just the PS5 situation. On the drive home, nobody talked, and Norman kept asking what Cordelia wanted, but dad wouldn’t answer. Monday morning, my parents sat us both down for new house rules, but they were only for Norman, not me.

No phone after 8:00 p.m., no going out without telling them where. No friends over, without permission, and mom would check his room every day for contraband. Norman screamed about discrimination and how they were treating him like a criminal, but the rules stuck. Mom started her daily room checks that same day and kept finding stuff like empty beer cans and cigarette packs that she’d throw away without saying anything.

Norman saying he stepped on it in the dark when that controller was clearly smashed on purpose. That little smirk tells me everything I need to know about what really happened down in that basement. Tuesday afternoon, Eden’s mom called me worried about keeping my PS5 at their house much longer because they were concerned about liability if something happened to it.

She gave me two weeks to find another solution, and the stress of constantly having to protect my own property was wearing me down. I spent hours researching storage units and safe deposit boxes, but everything cost money I didn’t have. Wednesday night, I seriously thought about just selling the PS5 to end all this drama once and for all.

Part of me knew that would be letting Norman win, but I was so tired of fighting for something I bought with my own money. Dad found me looking at resale prices online and sat down next to me without saying anything for a while. Then he told me he understood whatever choice I made, and that sometimes peace was worth more than being right.

Something about him saying that made me decide to keep fighting for my property because giving up felt like betraying myself. Thursday went by without any major incidents. But Friday afternoon, Dad asked me to not play any games this weekend to let tensions cool down. I agreed even though it wasn’t fair because I could see he was trying to manage an impossible situation with Norman getting worse every day.

Norman was listening from the hallway and I saw him smirk when dad said I couldn’t game like he’d won some kind of victory. Saturday morning, I woke up to crashes coming from the garage and ran outside to find Norman tearing through boxes and old furniture looking for my PS5. He convinced himself I was hiding it there and was throwing stuff everywhere, making a huge mess.

When he couldn’t find anything, he went straight to Elise, who was doing a home visit, and told her I must have sold the PlayStation 5 and kept all the money for myself. She asked him for proof of sale or any evidence I’d sold it, but obviously he couldn’t provide anything because it wasn’t true. That Sunday afternoon, Elise showed up without warning for another home visit, and I knew this was my chance to clear things up.

I grabbed my phone and pulled up all the texts between me and Eden, showing how we’d arranged for the PS5 to stay at her place temporarily. Then, I showed her the photos Eden had sent me of the console sitting safely in her room next to her desk. I opened my banking app and scrolled through months of statements, showing no big deposits that would indicate I’d sold anything.

Elise took notes on her tablet while looking through everything, and I could see her writing something about a pattern of false accusations. Norman watched from the doorway getting redder and redder until he finally exploded about how everyone always believes lies about him and stormed off to his room, slamming the door so hard a picture fell off the wall.

Elise tried to talk to him about the false accusations. But the second she knocked on his door, he started hyperventilating and gasping like he couldn’t breathe. Mom rushed over trying to help, but Elise just stood there typing notes into her tablet about his behavior instead of reacting to his performance. She told mom professionally that she needed to maintain boundaries during the assessment, and mom backed away looking confused.

I watched from the kitchen doorway seeing someone finally not fall for his dramatic act, and it felt like watching a magic trick get exposed. The next week, Dad surprised everyone by scheduling an intake appointment for family therapy, which Mom reluctantly agreed to after he reminded her about Alisa’s warnings. Norman acted like he didn’t care when they told him, but later, I saw him hunched over his phone, googling things like how to manipulate therapists and what to say in family therapy to win.

He left his phone unlocked on the counter when he went to the bathroom, so I quickly took screenshots of his search history before he came back. At our first therapy session, the therapist was this older guy who didn’t react to Norman’s confused act when he assigned homework, including keeping separate spaces in the house and tracking restitution progress.

Norman kept asking why any of this was necessary and acting like he didn’t understand. But the therapist just repeated the assignments without engaging with his deflections. The new house rule they established was that my PS5 had to stay off site, and Norman couldn’t contact any neighborhood kids under 16, which wasn’t perfect, but at least it was officially documented.

Mom signed the agreement, looking like someone had died while Norman made a big show of signing with theatrical reluctance and heavy size. Within three days, Norman had already broken the rule by texting the Quiet Brothers about hanging out, and Dad actually followed through by taking his phone for a whole week.

Mom tried to protest, saying it was too harsh, but Dad reminded her about Alisa’s warning that Norman could be moved to a different placement if things didn’t improve. Norman went completely silent and cold after that, which was somehow scarier than his usual dramatic performances because you never knew what he was planning. He used his laptop to post on social media about his abusive household and how his foster family was treating him like a prisoner.

But the comment section turned into a roast session. Kids from the school who knew the real story started commenting about how he’d been charging money for the PS5 and lying about everything. The public humiliation seemed to affect him more than any punishment we’ tried because he deleted the post within an hour, but screenshots were already being shared in group chats.

One evening when I was doing homework, Norman came into my room and offered what seemed like a genuine apology, saying he knew he’d been difficult. I thanked him, but kept my distance and didn’t engage much because I couldn’t tell if this was real or just another strategy to get something. He looked hurt when I didn’t immediately forgive him and trust him again.

But after everything that had happened, I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. That weekend, I packed up the PS5 and brought it to Eden’s house for a game night with friends, and it felt amazing to just play normally without any drama. We played for hours without worrying about volume or time limits or someone having a meltdown about childhood trauma.

I realized this might be how things would have to be from now on, and surprisingly, I was okay with keeping my gaming separate from home if it meant avoiding the constant battles. When Elise came for her monthly review, she noted that Norman was showing partial compliance with the new rules, but warned that continued issues could mean moving him to a different placement.

Mom and dad finally seemed to understand that this wasn’t just about video games, but about Norman’s whole pattern of manipulation and lying to get what he wanted. Norman kept playing victim, but more quietly now, like he was testing boundaries to see what he could still get away with without triggering real consequences.

The next three weeks dragged by with everyone walking on eggshells around each other. Norman stopped his big dramatic scenes, but I’d catch him watching me from doorways when he thought I wasn’t looking. Mom and dad kept the PS5 at dad’s office where I could only play it Saturday mornings before his weekend shift started.

I’d wake up at 5:00 a.m. and bike 4 miles in the dark just to get 2 hours of gaming in before he needed his desk back. Norman started spending more time in his room, but I could hear him on the phone late at night talking to someone about new opportunities and better deals. My parents look tired all the time now, like they aged 5 years in one month.

Dad started locking his home office when he left for work, and mom put a padlock on the garage after Norman tried to sell our old lawn mower to some guy from Craigslist. I got a job at the grocery store bagging groceries 20 hours a week and started putting every dollar into a savings account my parents didn’t know about.

The bank teller helped me set it up without needing a parent signature since I was 17. Every shift I worked, I calculated how many more bags of groceries until I had first month’s rent and deposit for my own place. Norman tried following me to work once, but my manager kicked him out for harassing customers about donations for foster kids.

I kept my work schedule hidden and started taking different routes home so he couldn’t track my hours or figure out how much money I was making. Wow, what a ride that was. I’m really curious what kind of questions you’ll end up exploring on your own adventures, too. Can’t wait to do this again soon. Like the video. It helps more than you think.

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