Rebuilding From Nothing

I was fourteen years old, living in a beautiful house with a family I thought was unbreakable.

Life was comfortable. Predictable. Happy. Then one day, everything ended.

No argument. No warning. No explanation. I was told to leave. I stood outside

that house with nothing but confusion and fear, wondering how a life could disappear

in a single moment. I slept wherever I could. I took two jobs—sometimes more.

I worked every single day, not because I was strong, but because I had

no choice. A month later, I came back. The mansion I grew up in was abandoned.

Windows broken. Walls cracked. The place that once felt alive was empty and destroyed.