Kiedy pracowałem nad swoim projektem końcowym, moja siostra wbiegła do pokoju i zaczęła krzyczeć…

The fluorescent light above my desk cast a harsh glow across the screen as I typed the final calculations for my senior engineering thesis. Three years of work, countless sleepless nights, and every ounce of my determination lived in those files. My graduation from Stanford depended on this project being submitted by midnight, and I had exactly 4 hours to polish the presentation before uploading it to the university portal.

The door to my childhood bedroom exploded open without warning. Briana stormed in wearing a glittering black dress that barely covered anything, her makeup overdone, in that way she thought made her look sophisticated. My younger sister had always possessed a talent for dramatic entrances, but tonight she’d outdone herself.

“I need you to drive me to Ashley’s house right now,” she announced, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re hitting that new club downtown and her place is on the way.”

I didn’t look up for my scream. “Can’t do it. I’m finishing my thesis. Call an Uber.”

“An Uber?” Her voice climbs several octaves. “Do you know how much that costs? Just take me. It’ll take 20 minutes.”

“Briana, I literally cannot leave this desk. My entire future depends on submitting this project tonight.” I gestured at the complex engineering diagrams covering my screen. “Ask mom or dad.”

“They’re busy watching their show. You’re just sitting there typing.” She moved closer and I could smell the expensive perfume dad had bought her last week. Everything Briana wanted, Briana received. “Come on, stop being selfish for once.”

My jaw tightened. “I’ve been working on this for 3 years. Find another ride.”

The change in her expression should have warned me. Her eyes went cold and a smile curved across her lips that made my stomach drop. Before I could react, she lunged forward and snatched my laptop right off the desk. The charging cable ripped from the wall socket.

“What are you doing?” I jumped up, reaching for it, but she danced backward toward the door.

“Maybe this will teach you to prioritize family,” she said. And then she was running down the hallway.

I chased after her, my heart pounding in my throat. “Briana, stop. Everything is on there.”

She veered into the bathroom and I watched in horror as she held my laptop over the bathtub. The machine contained three years of research, calculations, prototype designs, analysis papers, my entire academic career.

“Put it down,” I pleaded. “Please, I’m begging you.”

“You should have just driven me.” She tilted her head, that cruel smile never wavering. “Your dreams belong down there.”

She dropped it. The laptop hit the water with a splash that seemed to echo through my skull. I watched my future sink beneath the surface, bubbles rising as water flooded into the keyboard, destroying the circuits, erasing everything. I couldn’t breathe. My vision tunnneled.

“You psychotic?” I ran downstairs, my legs barely holding me up. Mom and dad were exactly where Brianna said they’d be, lounging on the couch with wine glasses, some reality show playing on the massive TV dad had bought last month.

“Mom. Dad.” My voice came out strangled. “Briana just destroyed my laptop. My thesis was on there. Everything.”

Dad glanced at me. Then back at the TV. “What did you do to provoke her?”

“What did I? She asked me to drive her somewhere and I said no because I’m working on my final project. It’s due tonight.”

Mom sipped her wine. “You couldn’t take 30 minutes to help your sister. You know how important her social life is to her.”

“My thesis is more important than her going to a club.” I was shaking now. “She destroyed my computer. 3 years of work.”

Dad actually laughed, a short dismissive sound that cut through me like glass. “You’re being dramatic. You probably have it backed up somewhere.”

“I don’t. I was working on the final edits.” Tears were streaming down my face now. “Please, you have to do something. Make her pay for repairs. Anything.”

“She’s our priority,” Mom interrupted, waving her hand like she was swatting away a fly. “You should have listened to her. This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“Are you serious right now?” I stared at them, these people who were supposed to be my parents. “She destroyed my entire future. And you’re taking her side.”

Mom stood up, and there was something cold in her eyes I’d seen before, but never directed at me with such intensity. “Losers should stay losers. Maybe if you spent less time on your little projects and more time being useful to this family, you’d understand that.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. Little projects, my engineering degree, my thesis, my dreams of working for NASA, all of it reduced to little projects in her eyes. I heard footsteps behind me. Briana had come downstairs, still in that ridiculous dress, and she was laughing, actually laughing at my devastation.

Something inside me snapped. I turned and lunged toward her, not really sure what I intended to do, just needing her to stop laughing, to understand what she’d done.

She was faster. Her hand shot out and grabbed my laptop from where she’d been carrying it, water still dripping from its dead shell. Before I could register what was happening, she swung it at my head. The corner of the laptop connected with my temple. Pain exploded across my skull, bright and hot. I felt something warm running down the side of my face. Blood. The room tilted sideways.

“Next time, don’t ever disrespect me.” Brianna’s voice came from somewhere above me.

My knees gave out. I hit the floor hard, my vision swimming. Through the haze, I heard them talking.

“Is she okay?” Dad’s voice. Mild concern at best.

“She’s fine. Just being dramatic again.”

“Mom, can we go now? I’m going to be late.” Briana.

I tried to speak, to tell them I was bleeding, that I needed help, but my mouth wouldn’t form words. The floor was cold against my cheek. Their footsteps moved away. The front door opened and closed. A car engine started in the driveway. They left me there.

I don’t know how long I lay on that floor. The bleeding eventually slowed. The throbbing in my head became a steady, excruciating beat. Slowly, painfully, I pulled myself up to sitting, then to standing. The room spun, but I made it to the bathroom. My reflection showed a gash above my left eyebrow, blood matted in my hair. I cleaned myself up mechanically, bandaged the wound with supplies from the medicine cabinet. Each movement felt distant, like I was watching someone else’s hands perform the actions.

Three years of work gone. My graduation, my future with NASA, everything I’d sacrificed, every social event I’d skipped, every relationship I’d put on hold, destroyed in seconds by a spoiled brat who wanted a free ride to her friend’s house.

I walked back upstairs to my room. The desk looked empty without my laptop, the charging cable still lying on the floor where it had fallen. I picked it up slowly, coiling it with steady hands. Something had broken inside me when my head hit that floor, but it wasn’t what they thought. The fear, the desire to please them, the hope that maybe someday they’d value me the way they valued Briana—all of it shattered like glass. What remained was clarity. Cold, sharp, absolute clarity.

I sat down at my empty desk and opened the drawer. Inside was my phone, a notebook, and a folder of documents I’d kept organized since childhood. Birth certificate, social security card, bank statements for my private account that they didn’t know about. I’d been saving from my internship at Morrison Tech for 2 years. $12,000 they’d never seen.

My email still worked on my phone. I opened the last message from Professor Hartley, my thesis adviser. He’d sent me a reminder about the midnight deadline along with his personal phone number in case of emergencies. My fingers hovered over the screen. Then I dialed.

“Hello.” His voice was alert despite the late hour.

“Professor Hartley, this is me. I’m sorry to call so late, but I’ve had an emergency.” My voice sounded steady, almost eerily calm. “My laptop was destroyed tonight with my thesis on it. I know the deadline is midnight, but is there any possibility of an extension? I have backups on my university cloud account from 3 days ago. I could reconstruct the final sections in 48 hours.”

Silence.

“Ben, what happened to your laptop?”

“Family incident. It’s handled.” I touched the bandage on my head. “I take full responsibility for not having more recent backups. I just need to know if there’s any way to salvage this.”

“Check your email in 5 minutes,” he said. “I’m granting you a 72-hour extension, but I need the absolute best work you’re capable of.”

“You’ll have it. Thank you, professor.”

I hung up and opened my cloud storage. He was right. I’d backed up everything 3 days ago. I’d lost about 15 hours of work, maybe a day of rewriting to reach the same level. Annoying, but not catastrophic. Not nearly as catastrophic as my family thought.

I looked around my childhood room. Posters from high school, textbooks from my undergraduate years, a shelf full of science fair trophies that no one had ever congratulated me for winning. This had never been home. Not really. Just the place I’d been storing myself until I could leave.

Tomorrow, Briana would wake up hung over and laugh about tonight with her friends. Mom and dad would go about their day, maybe order Briana a new dress to celebrate her club outing. They’d forget about me lying bleeding on their floor. But I wouldn’t forget. I’d never forget the sound of my mother’s voice saying, “Looers should stay losers.” Never forget watching my laptop sink into bath water while my sister smiled. Never forget being left unconscious because they couldn’t be bothered to miss their daughter’s club night.

I spent that night working on my phone, reorganizing my thesis structure, making notes for what I’d need to recreate. The wound on my head throbbed, but I ignored it. Pain was information, and right now it was telling me everything I needed to know about my priorities.