10
James didn’t hold back. His punch sent Savannah sprawling to the ground. Her cheek swelled instantly, and with a sickening cough, she spat out two teeth.
6:11 PM
<
Even then, she didn’t stop pretending. Her voice, slurred from the blow, turned soft and pitiful.
“I didn’t do anything,” she whimpered.
“James, we grew up together… Don’t you know what kind of person I am? I’m too kindhearted for this.” She sniffled, tears spilling down her face. “Maybe Jessica provoked me on purpose, trying to make me say those things!”
Her crying was so convincing, so delicate, that if I were a man, I might’ve felt sorry for her.
Especially since James had once genuinely cared for her like a real sister.
But to my surprise, James grabbed her by the collar and yanked her to her feet, completely ignoring her manipulations.
“Seriously?” he snapped.
“You expect me to trust you, a liar, over my sister?”
Savannah’s eyes flickered, her confidence wavering.
The shouting, combined with the blood on the floor, was making me feel sick. My face must’ve shown my discomfort because James immediately noticed and scaled back his aggression.
But before letting her go, he leaned in close, his voice low and venomous.
“Let me make this very clear,” he growled.
“From now on, you’re not allowed to see my sister. Ever. If you try, I’ll personally take back the kidney I gave you. Got it?”
Savannah collapsed to the ground, trembling.
She knew James wasn’t bluffing. After seeing what had happened to me, she understood he was fully capable of following through on his
threats.
She struggled to her feet, leaning against the wall for support. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale as she hobbled out of the room, clutching her side.
James waited until the door slammed behind her before turning to me. His face softened, but his voice was thick with worry.
“If I had been a little later… God, I don’t even want to think about it. Are you okay?”
I didn’t answer.
Before I could decide whether I wanted to respond, Mom walked in. Her expression was strange–an almost painful mix of relief and sadness.
“Mom?” James asked, his voice hesitant. “I didn’t hear everything. What did the doctor say about Jessica?”
Mom hesitated, wringing her hands. “The doctor said… Jessica probably didn’t lose her memory.”
James froze, his face going rigid.
I couldn’t help it–I burst out laughing.
I knew it wouldn’t take them long to figure it out.
I tilted my head up and stared at the two people standing before me. Two people who had hurt me, abandoned me, and were now desperately trying to patch it all up with empty gestures and guilt.
I spoke slowly, each word deliberate, like a knife cutting through the air:
“It’s because I don’t want anything to do with either of you anymore.“,
6:11 PM dd
<
And I ran.
While they were eating lunch, I left the hospital for good.
Mom called me over and over, but I didn’t answer.
Through social media posts and the news, I learned that on the night I disappeared, Mom’s hair turned completely white.
She seemed possessed, lying in bed and muttering my name over and over, unable to wake from her delusion.
James quit his job to dedicate himself to finding me.
Missing person posters with my picture covered every street corner. My face appeared in newspapers and online media, all begging me to
come home.
He even texted me once, pleading:
“Please come back. Without you, this family is falling apart.”
But I didn’t believe him. After all, for twenty years, I might as well have been invisible in that family. My absence couldn’t make things worse- it might even make things better.
Sometimes, when I sat in the quiet corners of the city, I thought about those years.
I remembered how, whenever Mom visited Savannah, she’d come home and take out her frustrations on me. There was no reason for it-
sometimes she’d hit me, sometimes she’d scream.
When I was eight, Savannah shared a tiny piece of the cake Mom had bought her. I couldn’t bear to eat it, so I saved it for later.
Mom found it.
She threw it on the ground and stomped on it until it was nothing but crumbs.
“You don’t deserve to have this,” she said coldly.
I spent years believing I was the problem. That I wasn’t good enough–that no matter how hard I worked, how hard I tried, I’d never measure up
to Savannah.
All I wanted was Mom’s love.
But her love was always conditional. It wasn’t for me. It was for her obsession.
First, she gave it all to Savannah. And now, it’s supposed to be mine.
But I finally saw the truth. She didn’t love me. She loved the idea of me.
I’d been trapped in her obsession for far too long.
Now, I was free.
I hid in the shadows of the city, watching them search for me day after day, knowing that eventually, they’d give up.
But before that could happen, I got a call from Savannah.
A call for help.
11
When I picked up the phone, Savannah was screaming in the background, her cries piercing and desperate. She kept wailing about the pain,
her voice raw and broken.
6:11 PM d
<
But the person on the line wasn’t Savannah. It was Mrs. Whitmore.
“Jessica,” she began, her voice shaking with panic, “Savannah is rejecting the kidney. She’s in unbearable pain right now!”
I stayed silent for a moment before replying coldly, “What does that have to do with me?”
“Jessica, please,” she begged. “James knows all about her condition. He’s the only one who can help. But… but the surgery was illegal, and
only he knows how to handle it–can’t you talk to him? Please ask him to help.”
I rolled my eyes. So now she cared that it was illegal? Where was all this concern when they were cutting me open without my consent?
“I’m begging you,” she cried. “Saving a life is the greatest thing anyone can do. Savannah has your kidney. You don’t want it to go to waste, do you?”
She must’ve sensed my silence because she added desperately, “Your brother’s furious. No matter how much I beg him, he won’t listen. He said the only way he’ll do anything is if you ask him.”
Ah, so that’s what this was about.
The almighty Mrs. Whitmore, who had once looked down her nose at me, was now groveling because her precious daughter was in agony.
Her voice cracked. “I’ll even get down on my knees if I have to. I’ll beg you, Jessica. I’ll—”
“Mom! Don’t you dare!” Savannah’s weak voice shrieked in the background.
Then Mrs. Whitmore’s tone changed, sharp and venomous. “Jessica Whitman, let me tell you something. If your brother doesn’t help, I’ll report the entire hospital for illegal practices. I’ll make sure everyone knows what happened. Let’s see where you’ll cry then!”
I gave a short, dry laugh. “Go ahead. Do whatever you want. It has nothing to do with me.”
And with that, I hung up.
After that call, I started seeing Mrs. Whitmore–and Savannah–in a new light. Savannah wasn’t the delicate, sweet girl she pretended to be. She was selfish to her core, someone who never deserved to be compared to me.
It didn’t take long for James’s attempts to find me to fade from the news. They were replaced by stories of illegal practices at private hospitals.
I was surprised by how quickly Savannah and her mother moved to throw James under the bus.
The scandal shook the entire community. With the public demanding answers, the police were forced to investigate.
James, as one of the hospital’s lead surgeons, was arrested and eventually convicted.
I went to his sentencing.
When James saw me in the courtroom, his eyes lit up for just a second, like he thought I might still care. But then he glanced down at his prison uniform and lowered his head, his expression hollow and resigned.
As for Savannah, she didn’t live much longer.
Her body rejected the transplant completely.
The day she died, her screams echoed through the hospital, so loud that even the staff couldn’t ignore it.
I was working as a temp at the hospital then, blending in with the crowd. I overheard people gossiping about how Savannah had been reduced to something barely human, tortured by pain night after night. Even Mrs. Whitmore had fallen ill from the stress of watching her daughter suffer.
In the end, Mrs. Whitmore was there when Savannah died.
They said Savannah’s last moments were horrific–she vomited blood all over her mother before collapsing for the final time.
6:11 PM
<
I didn’t expect to see Mrs. Whitmore again after that.
But one day, while I was working a shift at a convenience store, she walked in.
I hadn’t heard from my family in months. After James was sent to prison, Dad buried himself in work and Mom was too fragile to do much of anything. No one had time to come looking for me anymore.
Yet here was Mrs. Whitmore, standing in front of me, her eyes burning with hatred.
“This is all your family’s fault,” she spat. “Your mother’s insanity destroyed my family. If she hadn’t swapped our children, my real daughter
wouldn’t be dead!”
Her words didn’t faze me. I stared at her, unimpressed, and said flatly, “Let’s get one thing straight, ma’am. Your daughter got sick because of her own body, not because of mine. If anyone’s life has been ruined, it’s mine.”
I leaned closer, my voice cold and sharp. “Do you know what it’s like to live twenty years in someone else’s shadow? To go unloved, unnoticed, while everyone else gets the best of everything?”
Her lips trembled, but I didn’t stop.
“And by the way,” I added, “that kidney was mine to begin with. You and Savannah tricked me, stole from me, and ruined my life. Her rejection? That’s on you. Not me.”
Mrs. Whitmore’s face twisted with rage, but she couldn’t find the words to fight back.
I stepped closer, staring her down until she flinched.
“You and Savannah brought this on yourselves,” I said. “You destroyed your own lives with your greed. Don’t come crying to me about karma.”
And with that, I turned away, leaving her standing there, shaking with fury.
12
Mrs. Whitmore suddenly stood up and slapped me across the face.
I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the glass of water in front of me and threw it directly at her, drenching her from head to toe. Then, with a strength I didn’t even know I had, I slapped her back–twice–leaving her face swollen and red.
She stared at me in shock, completely stunned. I’d been the obedient one my entire life, taking every insult, every slap, every blow without fighting back. She couldn’t believe I’d finally stood up for myself.
She lunged at me, trying to kick me, but I sidestepped her easily and tripped her.
She fell hard, and just like Savannah, she hit the ground with a sickening crack, losing two teeth in the process.
Her whole body trembled with rage as she screamed, “You! I will make sure you pay for this! You’ll regret it!”
I met her glare with one of my own. “No, you will.”
Then, without wasting another second, I took the evidence–proof that she had illegally taken my kidney, along with the video of my mom switching babies–and walked straight to the police station.
Everyone who had wronged me, whether they were family or not, was going to pay. Not one of them was getting away with it.
Mrs. Whitmore didn’t last long after that.
With Savannah gone, she was already a broken woman, and the legal charges were the final nail in her coffin. She didn’t even make it to sentencing; she completely lost her mind and had to be transferred to a psychiatric hospital instead.
Before she was taken away, I visited her one last time.
6:11 PM d
<
She was strapped to a bed, screaming incoherently as the doctors tried to calm her down. Her eyes were wild, unrecognizable.
And my mom? Her punishment wasn’t as severe. Legally, her crimes didn’t amount to much. But the stress and guilt made her health worse. Her stroke left her bedridden, stuck in a hospital for the rest of her days.
Today marks three years since I moved to this city.
Walking down the street toward my apartment, I stopped at a bakery and bought myself a strawberry cake.
Not a small slice. Not a single–serving cupcake. A whole, perfect cake.
It was something I’d dreamed of for twenty years.
There was a time I thought a cake like this would only taste good if my mom was the one who bought it for me. But as I took my first bite, I realized how wrong I’d been.
This cake–one I bought for myself–tasted so much better than the ones I used to eat with tears streaming down my face.
And this wasn’t a birthday cake. It wasn’t for any special occasion.
I bought it simply because I wanted to.
After finishing the cake, I walked home, savoring the quiet joy of the moment.
But when I reached my apartment building, I found an unexpected visitor waiting for me.
The light above the stairs flickered on, revealing my dad sitting there, hunched over.
“Jessica…” he began softly.
I gave him a faint smile and corrected him. “That’s not my name anymore.”
He glanced down at the ground, avoiding my eyes. “So, you live here?”
I crossed my arms. “Is that why you came? To ask me that?”
He hesitated, then said, “Your mom… she misses you. Please, come back with me.”
For the first time, I noticed the streaks of white in his hair.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ve already changed my legal name and moved my records. We’re not connected anymore.”
“I’m asking you–please–stop interfering with my life.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, exhaustion washing over me. “Let me go. Just let me live in peace.”
He sat there in silence, the weight of my words sinking in.
After what felt like forever, he finally stood up. From inside his worn leather jacket, he pulled out a small savings book and set it on the steps
in front of me.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Take care of yourself. Eat well. Live somewhere nice.”
Then he turned and walked away.
I watched his figure grow smaller and smaller in the distance, his shoulders slumped, his steps heavy.
The next day, I went to the post office and sent the savings book back to him without hesitation.
I didn’t owe anyone anything, and I didn’t want anything from them either.
From now on, my life would be mine and mine alone.
