AITA for losing my custom bionic leg after my little brother broke it and my mum just hugged him?

I’m 18 and have a high-end bionic prosthetic after losing my leg to cancer at 16. My 11-year-old brother broke it while “testing” it, and my mum comforted him instead of taking the damage seriously — now I’m left with a dead leg, huge repair costs, and no support.

I lost my leg to cancer when I was 16 and am 18 now. My mum helped me get a high-end bionic prosthetic that’s custom-made and very delicate while charging — the joints and internal circuits are exposed then. I work a few shifts a week at a café to save for uni and to help with costs. My little brother (11M) has always been treated as the “special one” at home, and my mum often makes me feel guilty for surviving.

I came home to find my brother had unplugged my leg while it was charging and tried to make it “walk” — he broke the main knee motor and the whole prosthetic is dead, and my mum just cried and hugged him, saying he didn’t mean it.

I came home from a shift and found my brother in my room — he’d unplugged the charger and was physically bending and yanking the joints, trying to “make it move.” I yelled for him to stop but then I heard the grinding from the main knee motor and the leg collapsed. He dropped it and ran downstairs crying while I stood there holding broken pieces. The prosthetic is completely dead — these are custom, expensive, delicate devices. They aren’t repairable at a normal shop; they’ll need assessment by the manufacturer, repairs could cost thousands, and it could take months to get a functioning leg again.

"The main knee motor ground and the whole leg sagged like a broken doll."

I ran to my mum expecting her to take this seriously — to be angry, to protect me, to make sure my brother faced consequences. Instead she cried, hugged my brother, and said, “He didn’t mean it. He’s just curious.” She comforted him and told me not to be dramatic. My brother keeps insisting he didn’t mean to break it. I’m shattered — both practically and emotionally. I can’t afford repairs, and I don’t know how long I’ll be without the prosthetic. I’m supposed to be saving for uni and relying on shifts, and now everything feels uncertain.

"She cried and hugged him — he’s 'just curious.'"

My mum’s reaction made me feel invisible and blamed. I was the one who lost a leg and fought to survive — now I’m the one punished emotionally because my brother is treated as the fragile child. I don’t know whether to demand serious accountability, to push for repairs and costs to be covered, or to try to keep things calm so my brother isn’t punished for curiosity that my mum excused. I’m exhausted and angry and feel betrayed by the person who was supposed to be on my side.

🏠 The Aftermath

Right now the prosthetic is broken and unusable. My brother is upset but fine physically. My mum is comforting him and minimizing what happened. I’m left with a dead leg, a pile of parts, and the looming reality of repair or replacement costs and long wait times.

At home: tension and avoidance. My brother feels guilty but protected; my mum is defensive of him. For me: lost mobility options, stress about university plans, financial uncertainty, and feeling unsupported by my primary caregiver.

Concrete consequences include a likely lengthy, costly repair process, disruption to my work and studies, and a deeper emotional rift between me and my family because my safety and independence were treated as less important than my brother’s curiosity.

"I’m left holding broken pieces while they hug him and say he didn’t mean it."

I’m trying to figure out next steps — whether to demand the manufacturer assessment, to insist my mum covers repairs, or to involve someone else who can help mediate. But right now I mostly feel alone in this mess.

💭 Emotional Reflection

This is a painful mismatch of expectations and priorities. A fragile, high-cost medical device was handled roughly and broken; that’s not “curiosity,” it’s negligence. At the same time, an 11-year-old may not fully grasp consequences, and parents often default to protection rather than accountability. Both realities are true, but the result is unfair to the person who depends on the device to live their life.

Reasonable responses should include taking the damage seriously, getting a professional assessment, and ensuring repairs or temporary accommodations are arranged quickly — with the responsible party (and the household) contributing to the solution. Emotional support for everyone involved matters, but it shouldn’t replace practical responsibility for damage to essential medical equipment.

You’re justified to be furious and scared; you’re also the one left to navigate logistics. Clear communication about costs, timelines, and expectations — and fair consequences for mishandling sensitive equipment — are reasonable and necessary.

Here’s how the community might see it:

“This is medical equipment, not a toy. They need to pay for repairs and keep him away from it.”

“Your mum’s reaction is wrong — comfort the kid, yes, but also take responsibility for the damage.”

“Get it assessed immediately, document everything, and insist on a plan — temporary mobility help, repairs, and who pays.”

Most commenters would validate your anger, push for accountability, and recommend focusing on practical next steps while addressing the emotional fallout.

🌱 Final Thoughts

You were harmed through carelessness and then minimized by the person who should protect you. That’s painful and unacceptable. Start with urgent, practical steps: document the damage, contact the manufacturer for assessment, and demand a clear repair plan and cost responsibility from your household.

At the same time, this is a family issue that needs setting boundaries and consequences for your brother — and your mum needs to understand that comforting him doesn’t excuse the outcome. What would help most right now is a concrete plan: who will pay, where it will be fixed, and what temporary supports are available while you wait.

What do you think?
If this happened to you, how would you balance accountability with family dynamics — and what practical first steps would you take? Share your thoughts below 👇