My hands had barely braced against the edge of the bed when the door swung open. Nanette sat in a wheelchair, pushed in by Phoebe.
A blanket draped over her lap, her face drained of color, but her gaze landed squarely on Antonia.
“So this is your sister? You two really do look alike.”
I pulled Antonia behind me on instinct, every nerve on edge.
Nanette touched her own face lightly, then murmured,
“Oliver, I've been feeling dizzy lately. Do you think I never recovered the blood I lost from the accident?”
Oliver bent down to her immediately.
“Where does it hurt?”
Nanette lifted her eyes toward Antonia, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.
“Antonia has Rh-negative blood too, doesn't she? Why not have her give me a little transfusion? Maybe then I won't feel so awful anymore.”
My whole body went rigid. I refused instantly.
“No.”
Oliver frowned.
“Shirley, it's just drawing a small amount of Antonia's blood for a test. Nothing will happen.”
I gripped Antonia's hand so tight my knuckles ached.
“She has a congenital heart condition. You can't draw her blood.”
Nanette's eyes reddened at once.
“Forget it. Don't make things hard for her. My life was never worth much anyway.”
Phoebe stood behind her, glaring at me with the same hostility.
“Mommy, Aunt Nanette isn't asking for a lot. Stop being mean to her!”
I looked at my own daughter. She was still holding the plane tickets Antonia had just handed me, completely unaware that those tickets were my last way out.
The doctor was summoned quickly. He reviewed Antonia's chart, and his expression changed.
“Mr. Gilbert, Miss Winfield has a heart condition. She's not a suitable candidate for blood draws.”
Oliver's voice dropped low：
“It's just a little blood. Nanette is the priority. Take her now.”
The bodyguards moved to drag Antonia from behind me. No matter how hard I fought, it was useless. Finally, I dropped to my knees.
They hit the floor so hard my vision went black.
“I'm begging you, Oliver. Take mine. As much as you want. Just don't touch my sister. She won't survive it.”
Nanette looked down at me from her wheelchair, the corner of her lips curling faintly.
“Shirley, how could you use your own health to guilt Oliver? You know he cares about you more than anyone.”
As she spoke, she clutched her chest and leaned into Oliver's arms.
“Oliver, I feel terrible.”
Something shifted behind his eyes. The flicker of hesitation my pleading had caused froze over completely. He waved his hand, and the bodyguards pinned Antonia into the blood-draw chair.
Her fingertips trembled with fear, but she still shook her head at me.
“It's okay, sis. It's just a little bit.”
The first vial filled. I threw myself forward, clawing past the bodyguards, but they held me back. By the second vial, Antonia's lips had turned purple. When the third needle went in, the cardiac monitor began to shriek.
The doctor shouted,
“Stop! She's going to die!”
But Nanette reached out and caught Oliver's sleeve.
“Oliver, I'm still dizzy. Is it not enough blood?”
I broke free of the bodyguards, half-crawling, half-dragging myself to the foot of her wheelchair, slamming my forehead against the freezing tile over and over.
“Nanette, I'm begging you. If you want revenge, take it out on me.”
“My sister's heart can't take this. She will die.”
Nanette leaned down and spoke in a voice only I could hear.
“Begging won't help. I'm going to make everything you care about disappear.”
The words had barely left her mouth when the monitor behind me flatlined into one long, piercing scream. Antonia's hand slipped off the edge of the chair and hung limp.
The two plane tickets drifted to the floor. Someone stepped on them, leaving a dirty smudge across the paper.
My eyes split with anguish.
“No!”
Half an hour later, the light above the emergency room went dark.
The doctor pulled down his mask. He couldn't look at me.
“I'm sorry.”
I stood there. I couldn't hear anything anymore.
Oliver came back after getting Nanette settled. I was still sitting outside the emergency room.
He was quiet for a moment, then said in a low voice,
“Antonia was already in poor health. Nanette didn't expect this to happen either. I'll make it up to you.”
I slowly lifted my head to look at him.
“Oliver, what are we to you? Me and my sister. What are we?”
His brow creased, like he'd finally lost his patience.
“Shirley, don't start spiraling again.”
I looked down at the plane ticket on the floor, dirty from being stepped on. I laughed, though there was nothing left behind it.
“I understand now.
