"No!" my father exclaimed, his voice sharp and angry. "Don't even think about it."
"But she's a perfect match," my mother insisted. "The doctor said so. It's the only way, the only chance Lily has."
"I won't do it," my father said firmly. "I won't sacrifice one daughter to save another."
"Sacrifice?" my mother cried. "Don't you see? It's not a sacrifice. It's a gift. A chance to save our baby girl."
I couldn't breathe. My head was spinning, my heart pounding in my chest. They were talking about me. About using my heart to save Lily.
I stumbled away from the door, my legs feeling like lead. I didn't wait to hear anymore. I ran. I ran as fast as I could, away from the house, away from the voices, away from the horrifying reality that had just crashed down upon me.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
Everything I thought I knew, everything I believed in, shattered into a million pieces. My parents, the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally, were willing to… to what? To kill me?
I wandered aimlessly, the streets blurring around me. I didn't know where I was going, or what I was going to do. All I knew was that I couldn't go back. Not yet.
Hours later, I found myself sitting on a park bench, staring blankly at the setting sun. The sky was ablaze with color, but I felt nothing. Just a numb, aching emptiness.
The sound of my stomach growling reminded me that I hadn't eaten all day. I had no money, no phone, no anything. I was alone. Utterly, completely alone.
As darkness descended, I reluctantly made my way back home. I had nowhere else to go.
The house was quiet when I arrived. Too quiet. I crept inside, my heart pounding in my chest.
"We were worried sick!" My mother exclaimed, pulling me into a hug.
I flinched, pulling away from her embrace. I can't believe this.
"We were about to call the police," my father added, his voice strained.
I stared at them, my eyes burning with anger and betrayal. "I heard you," I said, my voice trembling. "I heard everything."
They exchanged a guilty look. My mother stepped forward, her eyes pleading.
"Please, darling, let us explain."
"Explain what?" I cried. "Explain how you're planning to kill me to save Lily? Explain how you value her life more than mine?"
"That's not true!" my father protested. "We love you both equally."
"Then how can you even consider this?" I demanded. "How can you even think about taking my life?"
"It's not like that," my mother said, her voice softening. "Lily is only five years old. She hasn't even had a chance to live. You're twenty. You've had a good life."
"A good life?" I repeated, my voice laced with bitterness. "Is that what you think? That I've had a good life? A life where I'm constantly trying to earn your attention, your affection? A life where I'm always second best?"
Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't stop them. All the pain, all the resentment, all the years of feeling invisible, poured out in a torrent of grief and anger.
"Please," my mother begged, her voice breaking. "Please, understand. We're desperate. We'll do anything to save her."
I looked at my father, hoping for some sign of support, some indication that he was on my side. But he just stood there, his face etched with pain, avoiding my gaze.
"It's not even possible," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "You can't transplant my heart into her. It's too big. It won't fit."
"The doctor said it's a match," my mother insisted. "That's all that matters."
I stared at her, my mind reeling. How could she be so blind? How could she be so willing to sacrifice me for Lily?
"I won't do it," I said, my voice trembling but firm. "I won't give up my life for her."
My mother's face hardened. "You don't have a choice," she said coldly.
"Lily is your sister. You have a responsibility to her."
I looked from my mother to my father, my heart shattering into a million pieces. They were serious.
They really were going to do this.
The next few days were a blur of tests and consultations. The doctors confirmed that I was a perfect match for Lily. My mother was overjoyed. My father remained silent, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and resignation.
I visited Lily in the hospital. She looked so small and fragile, lying in her bed, surrounded by machines.
Her skin was pale, her eyes sunken. I saw a mechanical circulatory support beside her monitoring her heart, and a nurse injecting her with her medication.
"Hi," I said softly, forcing a smile.
She looked at me, her eyes wide and innocent. "Are you going to make me better?" she asked.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. "I'm going to try my best," I said.
I spent hours talking to her, reading her stories, trying to distract her from her pain. I told her about the garden, about the butterflies, about the fairy tales my father used to tell me.
As I sat there, watching her, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of… something.
Not love, not exactly. More like pity. And a strange sense of responsibility. She was just a child. She didn't deserve this.
That night, I sat down with my parents. We talked for hours, arguing, pleading, crying. I tried to explain how I felt, how much this hurt, how unfair it was.
"I understand that you love Lily," I said, my voice raw with emotion. "But what about me? Don't I deserve to live? Don't I deserve to have a future?"
"Of course, you do," my mother said, her voice laced with desperation. "But Lily's life is in danger. We have to do everything we can to save her."
"Even if it means sacrificing me?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
I looked at my father, begging him to say something, to do something. But he just sat there, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"Please," I said, my voice breaking.
"Please, don't do this to me."
My mother reached out and took my hand, her grip surprisingly strong.
"You're doing the right thing," she said, her voice firm. "You're saving your sister's life. You're a hero."
I stared at her, my eyes filled with disbelief. A hero? Is that what she thought? That I was a hero? I didn't feel like a hero. I felt like a victim. A pawn in their desperate game.
I looked at my parents one last time, searching for some sign of love, some flicker of remorse. But all I saw was desperation. And a chilling determination.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and made my decision.
"Okay," I said softly. "I'll do it."
The relief on my mother's face was immediate and overwhelming. She threw her arms around me, showering me with kisses and thank you. My father finally looked up, his eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for saving our daughter."
I didn't say anything. I just stood there, numb and empty, as they celebrated their victory.
I don't know what happens next. I don't know if Lily will survive the transplant. I don't know if my parents will ever forgive themselves. And I don't know if I'll ever forgive them.
But I do know one thing. I'm not a hero. I'm just a girl who was forced to make an impossible choice. A girl who was sacrificed for the sake of her sister.
And as I write these words, on the eve of my twentieth birthday, I can't help but wonder if it was worth it. If saving Lily's life was worth giving up my own.
I guess I'll never know.
Goodbye,
Me.