Bad Guests

When I first bought my house 18 years ago, with my own money, I was very proud. I invited my parents and a couple of their friends to see it, along with a few friends of mine for protection. At one point my step-father commanded me to show him the cellar. I dutifully left my guests behind and led him and my mother down the stairs. None of my friends came along. My parents and I were suddenly in a folk-tale. They demanded that I open every cupboard and closet door in the cellar, ordering me around in my own house. I don't know what they were looking for. I think it was one last gasp at having power over me. I was angry and relieved when they finally left.