My brother stole my ATM card and emptied my entire account. Then he kicked me out of the house, saying, “Your job is done, we got what we wanted.” The worst part was that my parents laughed as if it had all been part of a plan.

PART 1

“You are officially useless to this family. We have drained every bit of value from you, so pack your things and never darken this doorstep again.”

The words struck me with the force of a freezing wave the second I stepped into the foyer. I had just finished a grueling double shift at the medical center in Phoenix, my spine aching and my vision blurring from hours of standing.

All I wanted was a hot shower and to sleep until my muscles stopped throbbing. But there, resting against the floral wallpaper of the entryway, sat my weathered suitcase.

It wasn’t thrown carelessly or left open; it was zipped tight with my denim jacket folded neatly on top, looking like a calculated eviction from my own life. I heard the sound of clinking glass and sharp laughter drifting from the kitchen.

My older brother, Garrett, was leaning back in a chair with a cold bottle of beer as if he were celebrating a massive promotion. My mother wore that fragile, artificial smile she used whenever she wanted to pretend a disaster was just a minor inconvenience.