Chapter 3

The next morning, I decided I couldn't just let this go. I had to try to make her see reason, even if those damned pop-ups were screaming in her mental ears.

I found Jessie in the living room, scrolling through her phone, a smug look on her face. The pop-ups above her were quieter today, more like satisfied murmurs.

*"She's planning something. Stay alert."* one flickered.

"Jessie," I began, sitting down opposite her. "We need to talk about this 'services rendered' idea."

She looked up, annoyed. "What about it? I expect payment."

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Let's actually calculate it then. If you want to treat this like a business transaction, let's be businesslike."

I had a notepad and pen. "You've lived here for twenty-two years. For the first eighteen, you were a minor, and we were legally obligated to support you. Let's talk about the last four years, since you turned eighteen."

A new pop-up flared above her head: *"Warning! She's trying to manipulate the numbers! Don't let her!"*

"Fair market rent for a room in this area, with utilities, internet, and food included, is probably around a thousand dollars a month, conservatively," I continued, writing it down. "So, for four years, that's forty-eight months. Forty-eight thousand dollars."

Jessie's eyes widened slightly.

"Then there's your car insurance, which we paid until six months ago. Your cell phone bill, which we still cover. The groceries you eat. The wear and tear on the house. If we're going to be 'calculating,' then by my math, you actually owe us a considerable amount of money, Jessie."

Her face turned red. "That's ridiculous! You're my parents! You're supposed to provide for me!"

*"She's twisting it! She's being a calculating bitch!"* a pop-up shrieked.

"But you're the one who wanted to calculate 'services rendered'," I reminded her. "You can't have it both ways. You can't demand payment from us like we're a business, and then expect us to act like parents when it suits you."

"You're just trying to confuse me!" she yelled, jumping up. "You're being petty and horrible! All I'm asking for is what I'm owed!"

The pop-ups were in a frenzy now, a chaotic swirl of angry accusations.

*"She's attacking your character! Don't listen!"*

*"She's the one who's greedy!"*

*"Get out of there! She's toxic!"*

"I'm not being petty, Jessie," I said, my voice aching. "I'm trying to show you how unreasonable this is. We love you. We don't 'owe' you money for raising you."

She just glared at me, her chest heaving. "I hate you," she whispered, and the words, though quiet, felt like a physical blow. She stormed out of the room.

I sat there, the notepad in my lap, feeling sick. The pop-ups had won again, convincing her that my attempt at logic was an attack. I could see them, even after she left, faint echoes of their venom hanging in the air.

Later, David found me. He'd heard the shouting.

"What happened?" he asked, his face etched with worry.

I explained my attempt to reason with her.

He sighed, running a hand through his already thinning hair. "Sarah, maybe you shouldn't have... antagonized her. You know how she gets."

"Antagonized her?" I repeated, disbelief rising. "David, she's demanding thousands of dollars for 'positive household energy'! She accused us of owing her for her childhood!"

"I know, I know, it's... a lot," he said, wringing his hands. "But maybe if we just... give her a little something? To smooth things over? She's just young, influenced by things online."

"A little something?" I felt a cold anger. "We just gave her over five thousand dollars! And it made things worse! Don't you see? Giving in doesn't work with this... this thing that's got hold of her."

He looked away. "I just want peace in the house, Sarah."

"So do I, David," I said, my voice weary. "But I don't think we're going to find it by letting her walk all over us. Those pop-ups, they're telling her she's right, that we're the enemy. And you're not helping by trying to appease her."

He didn't respond, just stared out the window. I knew he wouldn't change. He'd always choose the path of least resistance, even if it led us deeper into this mess. I felt a growing sense of dread.

The pop-ups weren't just influencing Jessie, they were tearing our whole family apart, and David was too afraid to fight back.