"This child hasn't even been born yet and she's been categorized as a poor choice. How pitiful."
Hearing these words, I worked even harder.
When I was waiting in line in the underworld, I'd seen children like me, born for medical treatment. He had a miserable life. Not only did he have to have blood drawn, but he also restricted in what he ate every day. He was literally living for the child before him. Because bone marrow extractions were done too frequently, he had to wait in line again at the age of seven. But he was happy.
"That's great! If I die, I won't have to go through surgery. I must be reborn into a good family this time. I want fried chicken and Coke."
I shuddered. These days were horrible. I didn’t want to be born into a family like this.
"Mom!" A little girl, her hair completely bald, appeared at the ward door, accompanied by her father.
She was thin and tiny and looked frail. This was the first time I saw my sister.
When Mom saw my sister, it was as if she were recharged with strength. She forced a smile.
"Why is Bianca here? Did you eat well today?"