The night my sister forgot to lock her iPad, I found the group chat my family never wanted me to see. In it, they were mocking me, using me, and joking that I would continue to fund their lives if they pretended to love me well enough. I said nothing. I let them feel safe.

At 8:12 on a Tuesday night, I was in my sister Lauren’s kitchen in Columbus, Ohio, holding her unlocked iPad with both hands while a pot of boxed macaroni and cheese boiled over on the stove. I’d only picked it up because it kept vibrating. I thought maybe one of her kids’ schools was calling again. Instead, I saw the group chat title: Just Family. My name wasn’t there.