The Other Son

My brother, Dylan Skinner, was diagnosed with kidney failure and needed a transplant.

My mother shoved a voluntary donation form in front of me and tried to force me to sign it, but I refused. I told her that my immune system was weak, and I wouldn't survive with only one kidney.

She answered with two hard slaps across my face and started yelling.

"Dylan is dying, and you're still thinking about yourself? How could you be so selfish?"

To force me into it, she stormed into my advisor's office, grabbed my research samples, and said she wouldn't give them back unless I agreed.

As I met her hate-filled gaze, something inside me went completely numb.

The office was packed with faculty.

My advisor stared at the sample clenched in my mother's hand, panic written all over his face.

"Mrs. Skinner, I understand you love your son, but the submission deadline is this afternoon. This is four years of work from our entire team. You can't just let all these students lose their future."

My lab mates crowded the doorway, staring at her, anxious and helpless.

A few of the more timid girls had already started crying.

We had poured four straight years into this project, day and night without rest.

Now, it was in her hands. One mistake, one bit of contamination, and everything would be ruined.

No matter how my advisor tried to reason with her, she didn't budge. She held my brother, Dylan Skinner, who leaned weakly against the wall, her eyes red.

"You've all worked hard, sure, but hasn't Curtis's brother suffered, too? He's only 17! This should be the best time of his life, but because of kidney failure, he's stuck in a hospital bed every day!"

As she spoke, she lifted Dylan's arm, the IV line still in place. The bruised skin around it was dark and swollen.

The same woman who always barked orders at home suddenly broke down in front of everyone.

"These past few months, his condition has gotten worse. He needs dialysis almost every other day. The doctor said it's critical. If he doesn't get a transplant right away, he only has a month left."

Dylan pulled out a tissue and wiped her tears, his voice shaking. "Mom, forget it. Curtis just wants to live a normal life. That's not wrong."

One of the professors looked at him with sympathy.

The moment he said that, my mother's face darkened. She lifted her head and looked straight at me, her eyes full of disgust.

"As his brother, Curtis should be helping him. That's his responsibility, but he's selfish. He knows Dylan is about to die, and he still refuses to sign the donation form! That makes him no different from a killer. And your school praises someone like that? If he doesn't sign today, I don't mind dragging all of you down with my son!"

My chest tightened sharply.

I never imagined that for Dylan's sake, she would throw away even the last trace of family between us.

I was her son, too.

Tears slid down my face.

I pulled out my medical report, my hands shaking as I tried to defend myself.

"I've had an immune disorder since I was a kid. I can't handle a surgery like this. If I get infected, I will die. This is the doctor's diagnosis. Mom, please just look at it again."

Instead, my words only made her angrier.

She snatched the report and tore it to pieces.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing! You just want Dylan dead so you can have everything for yourself. How did I end up with a cold-blooded, ungrateful son like you? Let me make this clear. If you don't agree to donate today, then don't ever call me 'Mom' again!"

My heart dropped.

This was the 99th time she had said that.

Every time, it was to force me to give in.

When I still didn't respond, her patience snapped.

Right then, Dylan started coughing violently. Streaks of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He slumped, unable to stay upright.

"Mom, I feel dizzy. If this keeps going… I'm going to die…"

Her anger exploded.

She suddenly raised the sample and rushed at me, smashing it against my head.

"You ungrateful brat! Are you trying to stall until your brother dies? If anything happens to him, I'll kill you first!"

The edge of the container cut my forehead. Blood ran down the side of my face as I clutched my head, begging her to stop.

And yet, the same woman who would panic if Dylan so much as choked on water didn't even glance at my injury. She stared at the blood-stained sample and let out a twisted smile.

"I'll count to five. If you still refuse, I'll open it and mix your blood with everything inside. Let's see how you explain that!"

She knew exactly how much this research meant to me, and she chose the one thing I couldn't let go of to force my hand.

At that moment, something inside me went completely still.

The countdown began.

As she reached the final numbers and made it clear she meant it, the students around us broke. A few of them glared at me.

"Curtis, this is everything we've worked for. Are you really going to let it all be destroyed?"

Others started crying.

"My parents said if I don't get into grad school, I have to go back home and work in the fields. I just want a different life…"

Voices piled up from every direction, each one pressing down on me.

When she reached one, I shut my eyes, completely drained, and spoke.

"Wait. I'll sign."