A few years back, my kids did something very crazy. Something that I have trouble forgiving them for. They took someone from me, in their paranoid state of mind. Someone who only wanted to help them. All because I thought I could save them from themselves. Because I wanted them to have a better life. But I went about it all wrong and now this person is gone and my kids are in jail. I lost my whole family because I thought I knew what I was doing. Here is my story...
When my son and daughter were very young, I decided to convert the garage into a game room for them. I designed the plans for the room on my computer, then created the blueprints to build it. I was able to afford all the stuff required to build this "dream room" because I owned a company that earned me 360k per year. So I went out and bought all the materials and got to work.
I quietly worked alone as I turned this dream into a reality. First I cleaned out the garage and got rid of all unnecessary fixtures. I then redid the electrical wiring and insulated the walls. I laid a hard wood floor around the edge of the room, and a black, thick-textured carpet in the center. I installed a central air system for perfect climate control year round and connected it to a WiFi hub. I then built an awesome LED lighting system that was fully programmable with thousands of color/brightness settings. I hung the lights in various areas of the room according to a design I had drafted, then connected them to the wifi. Finally, I built a series of shelves, counters and cabinets around the perimeter for storage options.
After a few weeks of building, it was finally time to bring in the entertainment. I hooked up a 50-inch, flat-screen HDTV and added a home theater system. I positioned the speakers around the room for optimal sound and efficiently tucked all the wires out of view. Then I brought in an arcade machine with over 3000 pre-installed games. Added a PS4, Xbox one, Nintendo Wii, a top-of-the-line desktop gaming PC and an Oculus Rift virtual reality system. I put in a leather couch and three recliners all centered around a glass-top coffee table with an embedded, 42-inch Windows surface touch screen computer. There was a soda machine, refrigerator, microwave, and many other cool things.
After about 7 weeks of work, this awesome room was finally compete. At first, I only allowed my son to go in there because my daughter was still too young to be around stuff like that. But as she grew older, she started showing more interest in hanging out with her older brother so I decided to finally let her go in there and hang out.
I was very proud of this cool place I had built for them. I kept it stocked with food, drinks and snacks. I made sure they always had full access to Internet, direct TV, a full DVD and videogame collection, along with anything else they ever needed. If there was something they didn't have and they asked me, I would buy it for them. They never had to work. I kept them out of public school and so they never had homework. All they ever did was play in that room and enjoy life.
I bought them tablets, laptops, toys, pets, musical instruments, anything they wanted. My only desire was for them to have a place to live worry free for as long as possible. If it were up to me, I would have let them stay there, rent free, for the rest of their lives. But it didn't work out that way.
You see, before I converted it, when it was still just the garage, I kept loaded gun in there. I had it stashed in case I ever needed it for defense. When I transformed the garage, I left the gun in a cabinet in the back of the room. I trusted my kids. I taught them well. So when I told them to never touch that gun no matter what, I figured they were mature enough to understand. I never taught them about gun safety or the reasons they should not play with them. I never told them why I kept the gun in there. What I did tell them was that they would have full access to anything in that room, that they would never have to do anything but enjoy life with all the pleasures I provided for them, and most importantly, that they are never to get into the cabinet in the back of the room and get that gun. It is very dangerous and they could easily get hurt or worse, they would die. That's all I needed to tell them. My words were clear and I expected them to understand.
One day I came home from work and saw the gun laying on the couch. It hadn't been fired, thankfully, but I was very angry. So I sat my kids down and asked them who took the gun out of the cabinet. My son immediately confessed that it was him, but he tried to place most of the blame on his sister. "She dared my to get it" he said, "you're the one who allowed her in here." So I questioned her about it. "Is this true?" I asked, "Did you dare your brother to get the gun?" She stared at the ground in shame and replied "Yes, but it was those videogames and movies that made me do it" I gave her a curious look. "What do you mean? How did they make you do it?" I asked. By now she was in tears. "I always see the people in those movies and games playing with guns and they made it look cool. So I wanted to see what it was like to hold a real one".
I was very angry with my kids and it showed. But I had to be stern. I had to let them know how serious this was. I told them that they could never play in that room again and that from that point on, they were going to do chores around the house. I was no longer going to buy them food, clothes or any basic necessities. If they wanted any of that stuff, they had to do chores and earn allowance. This was to teach them a lesson so that they would realise what a good thing they had.
The next day I took everything out of that room and sent it all away in a big truck. I then turned the room back into a normal garage with two cars, tools and some boxes. There wasn't even a hint of what once existed there. Any talk of this awesome game room seemed like a myth and nothing more.
After that my relationship with them started to change. Everytime I tried to interact with them, they seemed distant. Like they were mad at me for giving them such a harsh punishment. They fought all the time and blamed each other for everything. I tried to guide them and show them how to survive with this new lifestyle I had given them, but they complained constantly about all the hard work they had to do. The more I tried to guide them and teach them, the more they resisted. We grew further apart as the months went by until they stopped talking to me completely. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I was no longer their father. Even my wife grew distant. She was getting frustrated at how chaotic things were getting around the house now that my children no longer listened to me. I put up with this for a few years but it just got worse and worse. So I finally decided to walk out on them. If they wanted to act like they didn't need me then I would show them exactly what that would be like.
After leaving them, I still popped in from time to time to see how things were going. If I couldn't have a relationship with my family, the least I could do was help them financially. I still paid their rent and all their bills. I still fixed things around the house if they were broken. I even tried to offer advice on how to get by without my consent presence. But they were very stubborn and didn't listen to any of it.
As the years went by, I showed up less frequently. They resented me so much that I felt I couldn't really make a difference anymore. Eventually the house started to fall apart. My ex-wife became an alcoholic and my kids turned to drugs. They couldn't afford to pay their bills or buy food. The house got dirtier because they couldn't keep it clean. Since I was showing up less frequently, things just kept getting harder for them until finally I just stopped going over there for good. I was very angry with them for the way they were behaving. They were a fallen family and I was ashamed to call them my own.
I eventually married another woman and had a son with her. This was my new family and I considered him my only son. I bought us a big house with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a swimming pool, hot tub, the works!. It had everything you could ever dream of in our modern times - even a Holosuite. Everything was paid for and you could easily live out the rest of your life in it without ever having to work again.
But things weren't the same. How could they ever be? I had so much hope for my original family. I wanted us to grow old together. I wanted to have countless grandkids and a beautiful life. That was my intention and I never wanted it any other way. If I was perfect, I could have had that life with them. I would never have left that gun in the room with my kids. I would never have expected them to know any better. They were just kids. If I was perfect, I would have known this beforehand. I would have known that eventually they would disobey me because I offered them that choice. I would have known that I'd have to punish them very harshly in a way that would ruin their lives forever. I would have seen all of this and I could have easily prevented it. But I'm not perfect. I'm simply human and a very sad one indeed.
So I started thinking, what if I gave my first kids a second chance... I mean why should I be so hard on them right? It's not fair. I still love them very much and I hate to see them suffering. What if I went and got them and moved them into this big awesome house? We would all be a family. And if my ex-wife couldn't handle the idea that I had a child with another woman, I could simply tell her that we never had sex... That she was a surrogate mother. I could probably get away with telling her that this woman never had sex at all and that she was, in fact, a virgin. My ex-wife is gullible. I'm sure she would fall for it. But that would make me a liar.
Then I had an awesome idea that would fix everything. Instead of going back there myself and trying to explain to them that I had a new family, I could just send my son to go live with them for a while. He could teach them how to fix everything around the house and rebuild their lives. He could teach them the value of forgiveness, kindness and all the great things that I was never able to teach them. As he slowly gained their trust, he could start telling them how much I truly love them and how I desire to have them live with me again. But the question remained on my mind: would they even accept him? Would they even believe that he was my son and that I sent him? I mean these people were crazy drug addicts... and they still had that gun.
But it was worth a try.
So I went through with it. I explained to my son what his mission was and sent him on his way. When he showed up, they did not even answer the door. They were paranoid that it was the cops or something. But eventually, he got in.
He lived with them for about a month and taught them all kinds of stuff. He fixed a few things around the house but life for them was still hard. He bought them food and medicine and tried to get them to give up their drug and alcohol habits. He talked to them constantly about moving out and coming to live with me. But they weren't buying it. They were just too far down the rabbit hole to be saved. They eventually let their paranoia get the best of them and they fought amongst themselves about who this guy really was. They couldn't come to an agreement as to whether he really was my son or just some imposter waiting to rob them. Then one tragic day, after much drug-influenced quarreling, they killed him...
I am very angry at my kids for doing this. They are spending the rest of their lives in prison for this act and I don't even go visit them. I don't even write to them. I am now a billionaire and own a lot of real estate. I even own a private island that is legally a Sovereign Nation. I have a lot of influence in political affairs. So much, in fact, that I could easily convince the government to give me custody of my kids.
Why would they do this? Because the island that I own has a private prison on it. But that is just the label. It's really a very high-tech facility full of amazing technological wonders. I consider it my own personal Paradise. If I really wanted to, I could prove to my kids how much I love them and rescue them from that maximum-security "Hell" that they are in. But I'm still teaching them a lesson. And what I really want is for them to love me. Even though they haven't seen me since they were small. Even though I never write to them or contact them in any way. If they can figure out how to contact me and show me that they love me, then I will get them out of there. I have that power. The power I don't have, however, is to make them believe that I love them. For all I know, they probably don't even believe that I exist...
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A Foolish Choice Cost Me My Kids