“I wrote about how amazing my mom was! How she raised me, even though she wasn’t well, and how she still donated blood, especially since she had Rh-negative blood...”
As my stepmother’s face darkened, I quickly reached out to grab her hand.
“Mom! Don’t be upset! I just combined a classmate’s story with your experiences for some creative flair...”
Suddenly, I screamed.
“Ah!”
The fruit knife in her hand had accidentally slashed my arm.
A long cut immediately started bleeding, badly.
And I had taken aspirin earlier.
The blood wouldn’t stop.
I collapsed weakly into my dad’s arms.
“Don’t blame Mom! It’s my fault. I made her upset again!”
“Are you crazy? Why are you taking it out on the kid?” My dad glared at my stepmother and rushed me to the hospital.
As expected, the hospital struggled to find Rh-negative blood quickly.
Panicked, my dad blurted out, “Tanya, you need to do it!”
My stepmother stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes.
“No!” I cried, tears streaming down my face.
“Dad, am I going to die? But I can’t drag Mom down with me!”
“You love Mom the most. I don’t want you to be sad! It’s okay if I die. Mom can have another, healthier child to love you both for me!”