After the family reunion, I checked my bank account — it was empty. (3 of 9)

I reached for the doorknob and paused. “Then you won’t mind what’s coming next.”

They laughed. But outside, something had already started. This wasn’t the first time. For years, I had been the responsible one, the one with the stable job, which somehow made me the family wallet. It started small. Sarah forgot her phone bill; I covered it. Seth lost his job; I lent him something to get through the month.

“You’re lucky, Mason,” Mom would say, her voice sweet but sharp underneath. “God gave you ease so you could share it.”

“Family means supporting each other,” Dad would chime in. Translation: We gave you life, now give us your paycheck.

never asked for anything. Not when I was laid off for six months and lived off rice and eggs. Not when I skipped vacations for three straight years to rebuild my savings. Not even when I helped pay off their credit card debt two years ago. They never paid me back. They never even said thank you.

Two days after they drained my account, Sarah called. I didn’t answer. She called again. And again. Then Seth texted: Just call her man, she’s freaking out.

I finally picked up. “Mason,” she started, her voice low and shaky. “We have a problem.”

“Oh, we do?”

“Look, don’t be like that. The power company came. We’re way behind on the bill. They’re threatening to shut it off if we don’t pay by Monday. So…” She paused. “So, we need your help.”

I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “You drained my savings and now you’re asking for more?”

“It wasn’t just for us!” she snapped. “We used some of it to help Mom and Dad, too. Dad’s car broke down last month.”