"Gemma Abbott... Gemma."
As if that name alone could give her the courage to hold on.
Father let out a panicked cry.
"Blood—you're bleeding!"
Mother was rushed to the emergency room.
I felt so drowsy, so impossibly heavy, as though I might slip out of this world at any second.
Good, I thought. I can go back and get in line for reincarnation.
Mother... a child who isn't loved is better off never being born.
I was still inside her womb.
From the doctors and nurses bustling around, I gathered that Mother had pulled off something nearly superhuman—she'd fought tooth and nail to keep me alive.
The price was strict bed rest from that day until delivery, plus three hormone injections a day.
Mother didn't care. The only thing she cared about was when I could be cut out of her.
Gemma's condition had worsened. She needed my cord blood and bone marrow.
To ensure I could survive a C-section at seven months, Mother began forcing down every supplement she could get her hands on—herbal tonics, bird's nest soup, sea cucumber. If it was nutritious, she swallowed it.
I hated the taste of all of it.
I kicked upward with everything I had and landed a solid blow to her stomach.
"Ugh—"
The supplements she hadn't yet digested came right back up.
But Mother was relentless.
The moment she finished vomiting, she had someone bring another bowl. She drank; I kicked. She threw up. She drank again. I kicked again.
By the end, she was retching nothing but bile, and I'd exhausted myself too—barely able to drift through the amniotic fluid. But she still hadn't given up.
She played a recording of Gemma singing. Listening to her daughter's voice, she choked down one bitter bowl of herbal medicine after another.
In that moment, a fierce hatred surged through me toward this sister I had never even met.
Why did both our parents love her? What had I ever done wrong?
Why should I have to sacrifice everything I had for her sake?
I didn't want this life.
I rallied what little strength I had left. When kicking wasn't enough, I clawed at the walls of the womb with my tiny hands. Mother clutched her belly with one hand and pressed the other over her mouth, writhing on the bed.
Her screams were so wretched that a crowd gathered outside her hospital room door.
"I know her—she's been hospitalized since the pregnancy started. Must've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars just to keep that baby."
"And get this—she's only having this child because her firstborn has a blood disorder. The whole point is the cord blood and bone marrow."
"That baby hasn't even been born yet and already got dealt the short end of the stick. Breaks your heart."
Hearing those words, I fought even harder.
Back when I was waiting in line in the Underworld, I'd met a child like me—born to be someone else's cure.
His life had been miserable. The blood draws were bad enough, but every single thing he ate was controlled, restricted. He existed solely for the sake of the child who came before him.
They'd harvested his bone marrow so often that he only lasted seven years before he was back in line.
But he'd been happy about it.
"Finally! No more operating tables. This time I'm definitely picking a good life. I want fried chicken and soda."
A shudder ran through me.
That kind of existence was terrifying.
I'm sorry, Mother. I don't want to be born into a family like this.
"Mommy!"
A little girl with no hair at all appeared in the doorway, led by Father.
She was small and painfully thin, her whole body radiating fragility.
It was the first time I'd ever seen my sister.
The moment Mother laid eyes on Gemma, it was as though strength flooded back into her body. She managed to pull together the ghost of a smile.
"Gemma, sweetheart—what are you doing here? Did you eat well today?"
Mother and daughter chatted warmly, their voices soft and close. I listened in silence, imagining myself in Gemma's place.
Mother would stroke my face with gentle fingers. She would hold me tight, aching with guilt that she hadn't given me a stronger body.
