Chapter 2
Serena’s heart disease had led to a clotting disorder. She needed an emergency blood transfusion.
Unable to find a suitable donor, my parents thought of me, the daughter they had abandoned in the countryside.
Clarence came in person. He dragged me all the way to the hospital, tied down to a stretcher.
He pinned me to the operating table, eyes cold as ice.
“If you hadn’t tormented Serena the way you did, her condition wouldn’t have worsened from the fear.”
“You owe her. And you’re going to pay.”
He ordered the doctor to draw 800 milliliters of my blood.
And the moment it was done, he ran straight to Serena’s side, fussing over her like she was made of glass.
My mother brought warm, sweet cream of wheat.
My father anxiously questioned the doctor about post–op care.
And Clarence… he held Serena’s hand and whispered his promises over and over.
“Serena, I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“No matter the cost, I’ll make sure you recover.”
And me?
I was discarded like a used rag. Pale, dizzy, my stomach growling from hunger, watching them play happy family just a few feet away.
When the observation period ended that evening, I dragged myself out alone.
But I didn’t make it far before a group of thugs surrounded me in a dark alley.
They shoved me to the ground and took turns beating me, mocking me, humiliating me.
Every time I tried to resist, I was kicked and punched even harder.
Already weakened from the blood loss, I didn’t stand a chance. Soon, I collapsed, coughing up blood, too battered to move.
The leader finally stepped back, pulled out his phone, and filmed my bloodied body for proof.
Then he kicked my limp legs and sneered, “Hey, you dead yet? Don’t blame us if you are. You should’ve known better than to cross the
wrong people.
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I didn’t know if it was Clarence or Serena who orchestrated it.
All I knew was that night I hurt more than I ever thought possible.
Multiple fractures, a face so swollen I couldn’t even see properly, both legs twisted in unnatural directions.
The only thing that kept me conscious was Mabel.
My little Mabel…
Her soft little face flashed before my eyes. Then came the image of my cruel foster parents,
I gritted my teeth and forced myself up. One step at a time, I crawled my way back toward that miserable place I once called home.
One shoe lost. My bare foot sliced open and soaked in blood.
I didn’t even feel it.
When I couldn’t walk, I crawled. When crawling left me breathless, I forced myself to stand again.
Chapter 2
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I knew you were trouble when you walked in
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From sunset to sunrise, I kept going. Until I finally reached the front door of that farmhouse.
But I had nothing left.
As the morning light hit my bloodstained face, my body collapsed with a heavy thud. And I blacked out.
My foster parents found me soon after.
Realizing Serena was behind everything, they feared getting involved.
So they buried me. Just like that, no name, no gravestone. Covered me in dirt behind the overgrown hill, pretending it never happened.
For six years, they half–heartedly raised Mabel. Feeding her scraps, beating her when they felt like it, planning to turn her into another
cash cow.
When people asked about me, they rolled their eyes and spat, “That ungrateful girl ran off with some man and left behind her bastard kid. What a disgrace.‘
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Their slander ruined my name in that town.
Everyone hated me. No one asked where I’d really gone.
Not until Serena relapsed again.
That’s when they thought of me again. Not as a daughter, but as a matching organ.
They planned to use my heart for a transplant.
My foster parents caught wind of it and fled in the night, leaving nine–year–old Mabel behind like trash.
She had no one. No food. No warmth.
So she dug through garbage to survive. Drank leftover slop just to keep breathing.
And I, already long gone from this world, could only watch.
Helpless.
Day after day, I watched her grow thinner. Watched her cry out “Mommy,” lost and scared.
Every second of every day, my soul burned with regret.
Regret for bringing her into this world. Regret for failing to protect her.
Suddenly, Clarence’s voice cut through my thoughts.
He frowned as he looked down at Mabel and asked, “Who’s your mother?”
I rushed to his side in a swirl of ghostly wind. A fragile flicker of hope lit up inside me.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d recognize her. See that she was his daughter. Take her away from this hell.
I didn’t care if he hated me. Didn’t care if my name was dragged through the mud.
Didn’t care if my soul vanished into nothing.
All I wanted… was for Mabel to live. To live a good life.
Mabel flinched at his sharp tone, but still answered without hesitation.
She said my name.
That hope inside me ignited brighter, fiercer.
I thought, maybe, finally, she would have a chance at happiness.
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But then Clarence spoke again.
And with just one sentence… he shattered what little was left of my heart.
Chapter 2
