​​Parasite

Grounded for two days? Before I could struggle to break free, I had blacked out.

Dad dragged me to the basement by my arm. The door clicked shut, and all light vanished from the space. A suffocating silence filled the darkness, like a black hole.

I covered my ears when I heard some rustling, hoping that the rats wouldn't nibble on my ears this time.

…

My name was Alessa Lieblich, and I had an older brother named August. My name signified my destiny—born to protect.

August was born with a congenital blood disorder that required constant transfusions to keep him alive. Unfortunately, like our mother, he had an exceptionally rare blood type. The blood bank rarely had a sufficient supply to meet his needs.

The Lieblich family had spent a fortune to purchase the blood supply. Finally, they came up with an idea—to give birth to another child, who would be a guaranteed blood supply.

For that reason, Mom got pregnant and gave birth to a girl. As luck would have it, the poor girl did not inherit Mom and August's rare blood type. Disappointed, my parents gave her up for adoption.

Following that, I was born—a baby girl with RH-negative blood, just as my parents had wished for. Before I had even tasted my first mouthful of breast milk, my blood was being drawn to save August.

For the longest time, I thought this was normal. Didn't every child have regular blood drawings?

I was around six when I noticed the smooth, unblemished arm of a neighbor's daughter. I gasped in admiration. "Why don't you have bruises from the needle?"

The little girl tilted her head quizzically. "What bruises?"

I rolled up my sleeve and showed her the bruises all across my arm. "See? Don't your Mom and Dad take your blood for your brother?"

Shocked, the parents around me shot me looks of bewilderment and sympathy. They immediately made a police report.

When the police arrived at our door, my parents greeted them with warm smiles and calm composure despite feeling fearful.

My parents explained to the police, "Our poor kid is sick. We always bring her for IV transfusions. She had probably picked up the wild ideas from TV and was speaking nonsense."

The police nodded. Before they left, they commented about how difficult it was to raise a child.

One second ago, my parents acted just like any other parents concerned about their children's mischief. However, once the police were gone, they turned to me with an evil scowl on their faces that made me tremble.

They hissed at me, "Alessa, you're a bad girl."

They grounded me for the first time in my life. Being grounded was a terrifying experience. I was cooped up in a pitch-black environment. I couldn't even see my own fingers, nor was I aware of the flow of time. I had no idea when I would be let out.

All I could hear was the rustling sounds from the rats, cockroaches, and other bugs that scurried around.

It was so horrible that I cried hysterically until I fell asleep from exhaustion. The next time I woke up, I sensed the rats nibbling at my ears.

I learned not to fall asleep, or the rats would chew my ears off.

Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, I heard it—the grating sound of metal against metal.

Suddenly, light flooded into my eyes. My eyelids glowed red, every vein illuminated. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. Light wasn't supposed to exist here.

The teenage boy screamed, "What the hell? What's going on?"

He fell onto the floor and pushed me on the shoulders, asking, "Hey, are you alive?"

My eyes fluttered open. I recognized the good-looking boy who mocked me over the fried chicken, holding a flashlight in his hand.

Relief washed over him when he confirmed I was alive. His brow furrowed. "Wow, I can't believe it's you! Tsk! Are you gonna call the cops on me?"