Donor Against My Will: I Died After Saving My Sister

Lindsey was finally brought home after a month in the hospital.

The moment Mom stepped inside, her eyes swept over the thick dust coating the floor and cabinets. Even the food in the fridge had turned to mold.

Her fury erupted instantly. "Where's Aurora? Did she die outside? She’s still throwing a fit like this? She’s really asking for it!"

The irony was cruel. For an entire month, they had stayed faithfully at Lindsey's side, never once sparing a thought for how I might survive alone, penniless. Only when the house lay neglected did they remember me—and even then, their first words weren't of concern, but condemnation.

I had long since grown numb to their slander. Their misunderstandings no longer pierced me. But Lindsey, as always, was eager to stoke the flames.

"I'm the one who owes Aurora an apology," she said pitifully. "I'll call her now and apologize. If she refuses, I'll go find her and kneel until she agrees to come home."

It had always been like this. Whenever Lindsey played the victim, Mom's heart would go out to her.

In fact, a few words from Lindsey were enough to shift the blame, and I would be left carrying it, as always. The injustices I'd suffered because of Lindsey since we were kids had piled up until they were impossible to track.

As expected, Mom's jaw set into a hard line. The audible grind of her teeth echoed her mounting fury, her features twisting into a mask of pure disgust.

"Does she even deserve your apology?" she spat. "It's just a platelet donation—it's not like she's dying. God, she's such a drama queen. If she refuses to come back, then fine—let her stay out there and rot!"

Still, Lindsey pressed on. She pulled out her phone and dialed my number.

Though Mom's words dripped with venom, she leaned in, listening intently, ready to unleash her wrath the moment I answered.

But my phone was powered off. Lindsey settled for sending a voice message on WhatsApp instead.

"Aurora, it's all my fault. Please don't blame Mom and Dad. Whatever it is, let's talk at home. You can hit me or scold me all you want, and I promise I won't fight back."

Her tone was sincere, almost moving.

If I hadn't known her true nature, I might have been moved.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity and still receiving no reply from me, Mom's patience snapped.

"Lindsey has already apologized, and that ungrateful wretch still refuses to respond. She doesn't deserve to be my daughter!"

With that, Mom removed me from the WhatsApp family group chat.

Once, that would have shattered me. Even though every message in that chat revolved around Lindsey, I clung to it, unable to bring myself to leave.

I deceived myself into believing that as long as I remained, I was still part of the family. I was like a thief peering into their warmth, knowing full well there was no place for me inside.

"Mom, don't be angry. Aurora isn't your only daughter. You still have me."

Having achieved her goal, Lindsey's lips curled into a smug smile as she nestled into Mom's embrace.

Mom stroked her hair tenderly. "Oh, you're the sweetest, Lindsey. I wish I'd never given birth to that ungrateful wretch at all."

I laughed bitterly. Since childhood, Mom had repeated the same refrain—I regret having you.

I wanted to scream that I never chose to be born. If I had known this was the life awaiting me, I would rather have been born a stray dog than into this family.

Even though she gave me life, I had already repaid that debt by giving it back to save her precious Lindsey. We were even now.

Dad emerged from the kitchen, beaming. Having prepared a lavish spread of dinner, he called out for Mom and Lindsey to come eat.

Mom, ever the formidable career woman, never stepped foot in the kitchen. But I'd never tasted a meal prepared by Dad, either.

Whenever it was just the two of us, he'd dismissively tell me to go fix some instant noodles myself. Yet, for Lindsey, he would rush into the kitchen, eager to cook for her.

I used to tell myself he was simply awkward, unsure how to show affection to his children. It wasn't until later that I realized it was simply because he didn't love me.

"Lindsey has just recovered, so let's not bring up that unpleasant wretch. If only she were half as sensible as Lindsey."

His words dripped with contempt, but his gaze toward Lindsey was soft, adoring. I knew Dad hated me because I was the living reminder of him causing Mom's premature labor.

The sight of the three of them happily gathered around the dinner table felt unexpectedly piercing. For the first time, I felt an urgent, desperate need to leave.