What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done to gain someone’s approval?
The Monster Trevor Created
My brother manipulated me into hurting our adopted sister, then sent me to juvie. So, I exposed him and watched him lose everything. Two years later, he came crawling back, pretending he’s changed. I was 12 and my brother was about to move out for college when my mom discovered that the egg she had frozen had completely degenerated.
She couldn’t have another baby.
“Mom, I don’t want a sibling. Am I not enough for you?” I asked instinctively. She would always try to reassure me that I was enough for her. But still, I hoped every night that she’d never be able to adopt.
A few months later, she was asked to babysit a baby called Daisy. You see, her friend had opened her door one day to find a child completely unclothed and left crying at her front door. She had no idea where it had come from and couldn’t take care of it due to having three toddlers of her own.
And because my mom is known for being generous and stuff, she asked if she could babysit Daisy for the night until CPS came to pick her up. My mom agreed and we both loved the baby so much that we ended up adopting her and accepting her into our family. At first, I loved her.
She was three and so much fun to play with. I taught her how to tie her own lace and build blanket forts. We even had multiple handshakes that only we knew. It honestly felt like the sibling I never had because even though I technically had a brother, he effing hated me.
When I was a child and wanted to play with him, he’d hit me until I left him alone. He’d constantly break every new toy I got to teach me how to be tough. And instead of telling our mom, I just let it happen for years because I wanted his approval more than anything.
So protecting Daisy meant everything to me until one day when Trevor pulled me aside.
“Daisy is different. You shouldn’t be around her.” His tone was cold and unforgiving. Daisy was African-American while we were white Americans.
“You see, people like her are always angry, always ready to commit violence. You don’t want mom to be hurt, do you?” . I shook my head violently and he nodded. “Except there’s one thing. Adults don’t like when boys hit girls, so you have to be the one to do it.” .
I started tearing up, not liking the glimpse of the adult world I thought I was getting. But that’s when my brother did something so unexpected that it instantly changed everything. He gave me a hug and said,
“I’m proud of you. You have to be strong.” . In response, I smiled super hard and hugged him back. That’s when we heard our mom’s footsteps. He pushed me off and pretended like nothing happened.
And since I had nothing better to do, I returned to playing with Daisy. I didn’t really know how to follow my brother’s advice or what exactly he wanted me to do. So, I just listened to what I thought was my intuition, but it was really just my developing anger issues.
Whenever Daisy didn’t do what I’d say, I’d pinch her arm until she cried. And when she talked to my mom, I’d pull her aside and tell her our mom secretly hates her. And the more she talks, the more she’ll want to bring her to the orphanage. This always shut her up straight away.
And by the time she turned four, she was a complete shell of who she used to be. Hated playing. Always wanted to be alone. Did everything she could to please me.
And the worse I treated her, the nicer my brother was to me. He’d tell me that I was saving the family, that I was protecting mom. And as much as I hate to admit it, deep down, I knew it was wrong. But the nicer my brother treated me, the more it seemed like morals just didn’t really matter.
But then came Daisy’s breaking point, or rather my breaking point. One day, she came home to all of her toys being completely broken because I had done the same thing as my brother always did to me. Usually, our mom was so busy that she never even noticed what was going on. But that day, she came home early.
And Daisy was crying so loudly, I knew it was going to make her suspicious. So, I hit her again and again until her tiny self was covered in injuries. When she was quiet, I breathed a sigh of relief until red started dripping on the floor. And that’s when her mom walked in with a plate of apples and grapes.
As soon as she saw us, her face went ghost white and she screamed. I was so scared of what her reaction would be that I didn’t even notice Daisy had passed out beside me.
“Why did you make me do this? I effing hate you,” I yelled while my mom tried to dial 911.
I don’t even know why I expected him to be honest. He turned to my mom and said,
“She’s dangerous.” Except this time, she was talking about me, not Daisy. When the ambulance arrived, they prioritized saving Daisy. But when as they brought her to the hospital, I saw it. The flashing red and blue lights. It was the police.
They took me in and questioned me. But I could tell they weren’t believing a word I said. And when they left to talk to my mom, my fears were immediately confirmed because that’s when I saw one of the officers hugging Trevor and congratulating him on being the man of the house. He smirked.
I watched from the window. I could see one of the officers speaking with Trevor. His manner professional and appropriate given the situation. Trevor maintained his innocent act. occasionally glancing in my direction with that look of triumph only I could recognize.
I knew then that everything was about to get much worse. The life I knew was ending and whatever came next would be my punishment for the monster I had allowed myself to become.
The officers took me to a juvenile detention center that night. I’d never been so scared in my life. They put me in a small room with nothing but a bed and a toilet. I cried myself to sleep that first night, wondering if Daisy was okay and if my mom hated me now.
The next morning, I met with a social worker named Mrs. Patel. She had kind eyes but a serious face. She asked me a bunch of questions about what happened with Daisy. I tried to explain about Trevor, about how he’d manipulated me, but the word sounded hollow even to me. I was the one who’d hurt Daisy, not him. Mrs. Patel just nodded and took notes. her face giving nothing away.
I ended up staying in that juvenile facility for six months. Six whole months of my life gone. My mom only visited twice during that time. The first visit was about a week after I arrived. She sat across from me at a metal table, barely making eye contact. Her hair was unwashed and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
“How’s Daisy?” I asked immediately. My mom’s eyes finally met mine. Cold and distant. “She’s recovering. The doctors say there won’t be any permanent physical damage.” . The way she emphasized physical made my stomach twist. We both knew the emotional damage would last much longer. “Mom, I’m so sorry. Trevor told me—” she cut me off with a sharp wave of her hand.
“I don’t want to hear it. Trevor explained everything. How you’ve been hurting Daisy for months. How he tried to stop you.” . I felt like I’d been punched. “That’s not true. He told me to do it.” . “Enough.” My mom’s voice cracked. “I can’t handle your lies right now. I just came to tell you that I’m working with your lawyer to get you the help you need.” .
She left after 15 minutes, and I didn’t see her again for 3 months. Her second visit wasn’t much better. She brought me some clothes and books, but barely spoke. When she did, it was just to tell me that Daisy was doing better, and that they were in therapy together.
During those months, I went to mandatory counseling sessions with Dr. Winters, a balding man with thick glasses who always smelled like coffee. At first, I refused to talk much. What was the point? No one believed me anyway. But after a few weeks, I started opening up a little.
I told him about Trevor’s years of abuse, about how desperate I was for his approval, about how confused I felt when he finally seemed proud of me. Dr. Winters never outright said he believed me, but he didn’t dismiss me either. He taught me about manipulation and how abusers operate, how they isolate you, make you dependent on their approval, and turn you against others.
The more we talked, the clearer things became. I wasn’t born a monster. Trevor had carefully created one. I learned that what I did to Daisy was still my responsibility. No one forced my hand. I made those choices, even if I was manipulated into making them. That realization was both crushing and weirdly freeing. If I made those choices, I could make different ones in the future.
When I finally returned home after 6 months, everything had changed. My mom picked me up in silence. The car ride was awkward with her gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. I stared out the window watching my town pass by. It felt like I’d been gone for years instead of months. The house looked the same from the outside, but inside it felt different. Colder somehow.
My mom showed me to my room and I stopped in the doorway, shocked. It was completely stripped bare. My posters, books, stuffed animals. All gone. Just a bed with plain white sheets, a desk, and an empty bookshelf remained.
“Where’s all my stuff?” I asked, my voice small.
My mom shrugged.
“I packed most of it away. You can earn things back over time.” . I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. It was fair, I guess. I deserved worse.
Later that day, I walked past Daisy’s room and couldn’t help peeking in. The contrast was stark. Her room was beautiful, filled with new toys, a plush princess bed, fairy lights strung across the ceiling, and colorful artwork on the walls. I felt a pang of jealousy, then immediate shame for feeling that way.
I didn’t see Daisy until dinner. She came downstairs holding my mom’s hand, hiding slightly behind her leg when she saw me. She looked healthy, her hair in neat braids with colorful beads, but her eyes were wary, frightened. She flinched when I moved to pull out my ch.
“Hi, Daisy,” I said softly. She didn’t respond, just climbed into her booster seat as far from me as possible.
My mom served dinner in silence. The only sounds were forks against plates and Daisy’s occasional whisper to my mom. I tried to start conversation a few times, but my mom shut it down with one-word answers. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Mom, can we please talk about what happened about Trevor?” . My mom put down her fork with a clatter. “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re lucky Trevor vouched for you, or you’d still be locked up. He convinced me to give you another chance. Said you were just going through a phase and needed family support.” . I nearly choked on my food.
Trevor vouched for me. After what he did, my mom’s eyes flashed with anger.
“After what you did, Trevor has been nothing but supportive. He calls every day to check on Daisy. He even drove down from college twice to help while you were gone.” . I wanted to scream. Trevor wasn’t supporting them. He was securing his position, making himself look like the hero while painting me as the villain. And it was working perfectly.
Over the next few weeks, I tried to adjust to my new reality. I was homeschooled now since my mom didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be around other kids yet. I had strict rules. No internet except for school work, no phone, no leaving the house without permission.
My mom installed a special lock on my bedroom door that could be locked from the outside.
“Just a precaution,” she said, not meeting my eyes. Trevor came home for a weekend about a month after I returned. He was treated like royalty. My mom made all his favorite foods and hung on his every word. Daisy, who still wouldn’t speak to me, actually smiled around him. It made me sick to watch.
Trevor made sure to play the perfect big brother in front of my mom. He’d ruffle my hair and ask about my school work, his voice dripping with fake concern. But when my mom wasn’t looking, he’d corner me in hallways or empty rooms.
“You’re still dangerous,” he whispered one night as I was heading to the bathroom. “One wrong move and you’re gone for good. Mom’s just waiting for an excuse to send you away permanently.” .
I believed him. The way my mom looked at me, or rather didn’t look at me, made it clear she was just tolerating my presence. So, I tried to be perfect. I did all my schoolwork without complaint. I helped with chores without being asked. I stayed quiet and out of the way.
Most importantly, I tried to make amends with Daisy. Every day, I’d apologize to her. I’d leave little drawings or origami animals by her door. I never pushed her to talk to me or even acknowledge me. I just wanted her to know I was sorry, but Daisy never spoke to me.
She’d leave the room when I entered. She stopped eating at the table if I was there, taking her plate to the living room instead. My mom allowed it, saying we needed to respect Daisy’s boundaries after what I’d done.
At night, I could hear Daisy having nightmares through our shared wall. She’d cry out, and my mom would rush to comfort her. Sometimes, I’d hear my name and her frightened mumbles, and the guilt would crush me all over again.
Things got even worse when Trevor graduated early and moved back home to help out. He claimed his online classes would allow him to be there for the family during this difficult transition.
My mom was thrilled. I was terrified. With Trevor home full-time, his control tightened. He convinced my mom to homeschool Daisy, too, saying she needed time to heal before being around other children. Really, it was just another way to isolate both of us.
“It’s safer this way,” he told my mom while I listened from the hallway. “Kids can be cruel. They might ask questions about her bruises or why she’s so quiet. Do we really want people gossiping about our family?” . My mom agreed immediately. Trevor was so good at playing on her fears, making her think his controlling ideas were actually protective measures.
I noticed other changes, too. Trevor had installed some kind of tracking app on both my mom’s and Daisy’s tablets. He claimed it was for safety, but I caught him checking where they’d been and what websites they’d visited. He started helping with Daisy’s homeschooling, but I noticed he was removing certain books from her lessons and replacing them with his own educational materials.
One afternoon, while everyone was out grocery shopping, I wasn’t allowed to go. I snuck into Daisy’s room. I wasn’t snooping exactly. I just wanted to leave her a special drawing I’d made of her favorite cartoon character. That’s when I noticed a notebook partially hidden under her mattress.
I knew I shouldn’t look, but something compelled me to open it. Inside were drawings, disturbing ones. Stick figures of a small girl with blood coming from her arms and legs. Crude words scrolled in a child’s handwriting.
“I am bad. Monster girl hurt me. No one believes me.” .
The worst was a picture of what was clearly meant to be me with sharp teeth and claws standing over a crying Daisy. Underneath she’d written,
“She says, “Sorry, but she’s a monster.”” . I closed the journal and slid it back, then ran to the bathroom and threw up.
The reality of what I’d done, of how I’d made Daisy feel, hit me harder than ever before. I’d become the very thing I’d feared in Trevor. A bully, an abuser, the monster under the bed. That night, I made a decision.
I couldn’t change the past, but I could try to fix the future. I needed to expose Trevor for what he really was. Not just for me, but for Daisy and my mom, too. As long as Trevor was around, none of us would ever be safe or happy.
