James Moore
5 articles
I thought I moved into a billionaire’s mansion to start over, but I’m sharing this house with a "GHOST" who is texting me from inside the walls.
My hands are shaking as I type this. I'm in his house. This huge, cold fortress that was supposed to be my "new beginning." I was hollow with hunger, and Eric was the only one who didn't look at me like I was nothing. But it's 3 a.m., and there's a dull thud under the floor. It's a rhythmic, faint, echoing footsteps. Someone is below me.
My mom chose TRASH over me, and I grew up in a house full of it
My friends tried to surprise me for my 12th birthday—and that’s how everyone found out how I lived. The clutter blocked the front door before my friends even reached the steps. They stood there holding a cake, reading the house number again, making sure they had the right place. I was inside, frozen, watching through a narrow gap between stacked boxes. I knew the moment they saw the door, everything I’d been hiding was over.
I raised my brothers as a teen — and now my family expects me to “FINISH THE JOB” by caring for our mother. Like my childhood was just TRAINING.
My name is Evan Cole. I’m 35. I’m the oldest of three brothers. The middle one is 26. The youngest is 23. There’s a 15-YEAR GAP between me and the youngest, and that gap didn’t make me a mentor. It made me the DEFAULT ADULT.
MY PARENTS NEVER THREW ANYTHING AWAY—AND BY SIXTEEN, DOCTORS SAID I COULDN’T BE SENT HOME.
Not broken items. Not expired food. Not empty containers. Not trash. Both of my parents collected everything. My mom kept items because she believed they carried memory and meaning. My dad kept items because he believed throwing things away was risky. Together, they created a system where EVERY OBJECT STAYED.
My millionaire ex refused to visit our son in the ICU, dismissing a hospital bedside as an 'inefficient investment of time.
I texted Nathan begging him to fly in and see our hospitalized son. He didn't send prayers or promises. He sent an invoice demanding $570 for airfare.