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.

The first message I read was from my mom.

Martha: She’s just a doormat. She’ll keep paying our bills if we pretend to love her.

Then my brother Daniel replied with a laughing emoji.

Daniel: Exactly. Amelia needs to feel needed. That’s her weakness.

Lauren had replied two minutes later.

Lauren: Don’t push too hard this month. It already covered Mom’s electricity and my car payment.

I stood there completely still as steam from the stove fogged the screen. Even so, my thumb kept scrolling.

There were months of messages. Screenshots of my bank transfers. Jokes about my “savior complex.” Complaints that it was “harder to make her feel guilty” lately. My mom even wrote: If she starts asking questions, cry first. It always works.

I paid the security deposit when Daniel was “between jobs.” I covered Lauren’s dentist bill when she said her insurance had failed her. I sent my mom grocery money every Friday because she insisted Social Security wasn’t enough. On birthdays, they posted smiling pictures with captions about how lucky they were to have me. Privately, they called me an ATM with abandonment issues.