2.
The second the words left my mouth, my mother blew up on the other end of the line.
"You won't give it? How can you not give it! Your father's right, you're a heartless, ungrateful wretch we could never raise into a decent person!"
"That's your own little sister. You're just going to sit there and watch her die?"
Her words got uglier and uglier. I lowered my eyes to the phone in my hand.
Two lifetimes of grievance and confusion pressed up in my chest, and I couldn't hold it back anymore.
I asked the question I had always wanted to ask. "Am I even your real daughter?"
I didn't need her to answer. I already knew. I was.
All four of us in that family looked like we'd been carved from the same mold.
But then why me? Why lie to me, why refuse to let me go to school?
And why fool me like an idiot for all these years?
My mother's voice sounded furious, then cornered, choking down the sob rising in her throat.
"I'm begging you, this is your own little sister, she's still so young."
"If you won't take care of her, who will!"
Her voice was worn and thin, pleading with me, her daughter, through tears. It wasn't as if I'd never refused her in my last life.
But every time, my parents would block me with one excuse after another, until I had no choice but to hand over the money like a good girl.
And after handing it over enough times, I got used to it. I stopped feeling like anything was wrong.
But now I bowed my head and gave it the smallest shake. "I'm not giving you money anymore. And don't call me again."
After I hung up, I tipped my head back and looked at the sky for a while, then locked my phone in my locker, pulled on my dust suit, and went into the production floor.
I'd barely sat down at my station when the person beside me leaned in close.
"Your parents called you again? See, I told you, doing so well out here, of course your parents are thrilled to hear about it."
I whipped around and looked at the woman I would have gone on treating as a best friend for decades.
"You're the one who told my parents I got a raise?"
Gloria Glass nodded. "Yeah. Things are so hard at home for your family, shouldn't you be giving them more?"
"Besides, if you're doing well, your parents can hold their heads up back home."
I stared straight at her and didn't miss the little flicker of glee in her eyes.
"Didn't I tell you not to spread it around that I got a raise? You know how hard I've had it."
Gloria's eyes shifted. "What's it got to do with me? I just kindly mentioned you when I was on the phone with my family."
"How was I supposed to know it'd turn out like this?"
I looked at the face in front of me, and slowly it lined up with a face from my last life. The one in bed with my first love, tangled up together.
The one I'd caught in the act, the one that cried and begged me to forgive her.
After a moment, I got up, found the line leader, and asked to transfer stations.
From that day on, Gloria never said another word to me.
And I never sent another cent home. The savings in my hand grew slowly, bit by bit.
I counted my money one bill at a time. Soon. Soon I'd be able to quit and leave the factory.
I could move to another city and live a normal life, keep going with school, and stop being their blood bag the way I had been in my last life.
I would never live that life over again.
At noon, when I got off and was heading out to eat, someone gripped my arm hard.
"Gillian Gray, you heartless thing, your sister's about to die sick in her bed!"
"And you've still got the nerve to be out here living the good life? You're set on driving us all to our deaths, aren't you!"
