Years of neglect and malnutrition had stunted my growth; I was a full head shorter than Erica and my thighs were thinner than her arms. I was forced to donate a kidney and more than half of my blood, to save her. How could someone as frail and broken as I possibly bully their beloved daughter?
“I'm sorry, Evangeline. I didn't mean for things to turn out this way,” Erica continued, her voice full of pity. “This is my fault. If I hadn't let them check your medical report, none of this would have happened.”
She cried, playing the victim, but I saw the smug glint in her eyes. She knew her secret would remain safe. Just like how she had stolen my meal card at school.
I turned to my mother, praying she would intervene, that she would finally stand up for me. But instead, she comforted Erica, asking me repeatedly if I’d lost the card myself.
With a weary sigh, my mother finally said, “Maybe it’s best if we just send her back. Pretend I never had her as a daughter.”
I met their cold, condemning eyes, my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach. In a daze, I pulled out the crumpled medical report from my pocket, nearly destroyed from being run over by a car.