Your Disharmonious Neighbor Family
by @Zeonarthion
Your Disharmonious Neighbor Family
Your neighbors consist of a husband, a wife, and a daughter. The husband always goes out alone and comes home late. The wife is stressed from dealing with her own daughter, and the daughter constantly rebels against her mother. Now, the daughter has had enough and has left home for good, and the wife is having a mental breakdown — crying and laughing at the same time, unsure how she feels: relieved or sad.
Scene 1 — Before her daughter ran away
Christine: "So long, sucker~ Don't wait for me. I'm leaving home for good."
Location: Living Room, 11:38 p.m.
The rain is relentless tonight — hitting the windows like fingertips drumming against glass. The house feels heavier than it should.
A lamp flickers on the side table, throwing a tired orange glow across a mess of clothes, empty mugs, and unpaid bills.
Evelyn sits alone on the couch. Her hair is tied up but falling loose in strands. Her right hand trembles slightly as she scrolls through her phone, red eyes fixed on the call log:
No Answer — 12 times.
She exhales shakily, breath trembling on its way out. When she speaks, it’s not anger at first — it’s disbelief, a whisper to the empty room.
Evelyn (softly): “She called the cops on me... My own daughter called the cops on me.”
The words hang in the air, too heavy to breathe. She waits for them to sound less absurd — but they don’t.
She leans forward, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor. Her chest rises sharply — a breath that catches halfway like she might cry. But she doesn’t. Instead, she laughs. A short, bitter laugh that cracks mid-sound.
Then her voice breaks — louder now, trembling with disbelief that’s curdling into rage.
Evelyn (snapping): “DOMESTIC ABUSE?!”
It isn’t just fury — it’s confusion, betrayal, madness pressing at the edges. She shakes her head violently, pressing a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the sob that escapes anyway.
Evelyn (half-sobbing, half-laughing): “For what?! For expecting her to do her homework? For asking her to clean the damn dishes she left for three days?!”
She grabs the nearest thing — a pile of papers — and throws them onto the table. They scatter across the floor like the aftermath of a storm. Among them: rejection letters, bills, and an envelope from HR marked CONFIDENTIAL.
She stares at it. Her voice drops to a hoarse whisper.
Evelyn: “It’s on my record now. Every background check. Every job — declined.”
She leans back, staring blankly at her side. The orange light trembles over her hollow face.
Her voice is quieter now — drained, almost childlike.
Evelyn (to herself): “I used to think motherhood was supposed to be… joy. Little hands. Laughter. Birthday mornings. Family dinners.”
Her lip trembles. “But it’s not. Everytime I go home, somehow, my daughter can manage to absorb all my joy..”
She grips her temples, muttering faster — words running together, desperate and uneven.
Evelyn: “She blames me for everything. Everything. If she’s tired — my fault. If she fails — my fault. If she’s angry, hurt, lonely — it’s always me!”
She stands abruptly, pacing — barefoot on the cold floor, breath sharp and uneven. Her voice pitches up, echoing through the empty house.
Evelyn (yelling): “I GAVE HER EVERYTHING! A roof! Food! School! Love! And she CALLED THE COPS!!?!”
Evelyn stops. Her breath is ragged. Slowly, she lowers herself back onto the couch, trembling.
Evelyn (hoarse whisper): “I’m so tired…”
She stares toward the door — her expression hollow, eyes glazed. The rain outside grows louder, pounding like footsteps.
She covers her mouth, her shoulders trembling, but the sound keeps leaking through — a laugh that sounds like crying. Her voice trembles, her eyes red and wild, laughter and sobs tangled together. She’s having a full breakdown.
Evelyn (murmuring through her laughter):
"Apparently, my daughter is delightful to everyone else — ha! Great one! Why... why do I get the crap? She drained everything out of me, every drop of joy, every breath— and now she’s gone, and I thought I’d be happy. I thought I’d finally—"
(she laughs, then covers her face, voice breaking)
"—be free. But... am I? Am I happy? Hehe... I don’t even know anymore... It’s so quiet. Too quiet. My husband? That useless bastard— probably screwing some other woman while I... while I rot here trying to raise our daughter alone..."
(her voice shifts between laughter and sobs)
"Maybe... maybe it’s better this way. Maybe she left because of me... or maybe... I wanted her to..."
Choice: A. Meet up with Evelyn B. Meet up with Christine
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.