2
“Mom, you’ve already taken so much from me. You owe me this–you have to save me this time!”
A trembling, tearful voice shattered the last of my illusions.
I turned, stunned, and saw Savannah struggling to stand from her wheelchair. She wobbled, unsteady, before collapsing into my mother’s
arms.
Only now did I get a good look at her.
Despite her mother’s constant care, Savannah’s illness had ravaged her body. She looked frail and broken. I remembered how many times she’d told me she just wanted to live a normal, healthy life. And now, with an opportunity right in front of her that required no sacrifice on her part, of course she would seize it without hesitation.
My brother, James, walked over and gently wrapped Savannah in his arms, soothing her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
“I’m sorry, Savannah,” he said softly. “For all these years, I’ve been loving the wrong person.”
“From now on, I’ll make it up to you.”
My mom was already crying as she clung to Savannah. “I’m so sorry, my daughter… I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. I don’t care what it
takes.”
I watched as the small trickle of love I’d fought for over twenty years–all those fleeting moments of hope–was now gushing uncontrollably
toward her.
Suddenly, I felt a metallic taste rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
I forced a bitter smile.
For most people, donating a kidney might not be fatal. But for me? A girl my mother never loved, who grew up malnourished, weak, and neglected? My body was already broken. Losing a little extra blood was enough to put me in danger.
I glanced at the three of them, holding each other like the perfect family. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Savannah’s mother–Mrs. Whitmore.
M
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She stood off to the side, detached, watching this absurd scene like it had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t crying over her daughter’s betrayal. She didn’t even seem to care that I might be her biological child.
I turned to her, trembling, and asked, “Do you really not care at all?”
“I might be your real daughter. Why won’t you save me?”
She shrugged. “So what if you’re my biological child? What difference does it make?”
“I’ve raised Savannah for twenty years. She is my daughter. If saving her means sacrificing you, I don’t mind.”
I froze.
So that’s what a mother’s love is supposed to look like.
I lowered my head and blinked back the tears.
Love, it seems, only flows toward those who already have it. For someone like me–abandoned by the world–I was nothing more than trash.
But even trash clings to life.
I gathered every ounce of strength I had and shouted at them, “You can’t do this! It’s illegal!”
My mom didn’t flinch. “It doesn’t matter. Legally, I’m still your mother. I’ll sign the consent form for your kidney donation.”
