I was trapped, helpless, as they devoured me piece by piece.
Half asleep, I heard Louise's venomous words.
"Oliver's surgery was successful? Thank God!
"What's that? Is the brat's bleeding out? Only Oliver's rare blood can save her?
"Oliver's health is fragile. He needs to get into a top university.
"That worthless girl should've died long ago! What do I care what happens to her..."
I felt abandoned, betrayed, and choked on breath and hope.
"Mom, save me! Didn't you say you wanted to make it up to me?
"I don't want to die!"
I screamed desperately in my mind, but no echo reached my ears.
I died.
I died in a putrid morgue.
I died drowning in endless hatred and resentment.
I hated them!
How could my family members be so vicious...
2
When I opened my eyes, I found myself back in that so-called home.
For the first time, I was served spaghetti at the dinner table, a treatment I'd never experienced before.
Louise flashed a smile and said, "Grace, Oliver is anemic now. You'll have to donate blood for him, won't you?"
Dad's voice was low but carried an undeniable command.
"You're siblings, both with the rare blood type. You need to help each other out."
He always talked about family harmony, but that harmony never included me.
I didn't pick up my fork.
Eating this meal meant giving in to Louise's demands.
The atmosphere at the table suddenly grew cold. Seeing I wasn't touching my food, Louise slammed her bowl down with a loud crack.
"You ungrateful brat!
"Do you want your brother to be sick forever?"
I shot Louise an icy glare. "When Dad wasn't home, you were supposed to take care of me. Instead, you fed me leftovers and sometimes didn't let me eat at all. I don't know if Oliver really has anemia, but I sure do.
"Hey Mom, why don't you donate some blood to me first?"
Dad's face hardened, but he didn't jump to Louise's defense.
Louise arched an eyebrow, feigning concern as she handed me some honey water.
"Don't make up stories just because you don't like me. What this family needs most is harmony, you understand?"
Louise had always made me eat scraps, and now she was preaching about harmony and love.
How ironic!
I turned to my dad, my voice shaking. "Dad... don't you remember? I can't eat honey. It makes me sick to my stomach."
Dad's face darkened as he glanced at a nervous-looking Louise.
Louise shot me a dirty look while putting on a show of piling shrimp onto my plate.