My mom, who works as a lawyer, decides to take me to court just because I refuse to donate my platelets to my younger sister, Lindsey Finch.

I explained to her that I have a blood clotting disorder, and having an extremely low platelet count would put my life at risk.

But she screamed at me through tears: “Can’t you just stop pretending? Do you really have to let your sister die? How could I have raised such an ungrateful wretch?”

I lost the case, and my platelets were forcibly taken.

I suffered a massive hemorrhage and died a miserable death alone in a deserted corner.

I had died. Yet, trapped by my obsession, my soul remained tethered to my mother, Maxine Avery—unable to leave even for an instant.

In the hospital, my parents stood vigil at my younger sister Lindsey Finch's bedside.

Mom, usually a pillar of composure and iron resolve, was trembling on the verge of tears. The formidable woman who had once faced me in court with ruthless precision now wore an expression so fragile it was almost unrecognizable.

When Lindsey's eyes fluttered open, relief washed over them. The crushing weight on their hearts seemed to lift at once.

Mom clasped Lindsey's hand, tears welling in her eyes. "Sweetheart, you're finally awake. Are you hurting anywhere? I’ll go get the doctor right now."

Lindsey shook her head, her gaze searching the room. "Where's Aurora? Why isn't she here? Does she still blame me for using her platelets?"

At the mention of my name, Mom's face hardened. Disgust clouded her eyes. "What right does she have to blame you? She's selfish and heartless. To think she dragged me into court while you were suffering! She has brought me shame enough to last a lifetime."

A searing ache tore through me. It was Mom who had taken me to court; she had given her all, wielding every ounce of her legal brilliance against me.

I was her daughter, not some unforgivable criminal.

My father, Austin Finch, slammed his fist against the wall in fury. "Call Aurora right now! Make her kneel before Lindsey and beg forgiveness. She can't stand to see Lindsey well—she wants everything to herself. How did I end up with such a cold-blooded, ungrateful daughter?"

My soul lingered among them, unseen. We were supposed to be family, yet not a single person spoke up for me. Even in death, they wouldn't let me rest. They smeared my name just as they always had.

Mom picked up her phone and tried calling me several times, but of course, there was no answer.

"That ungrateful wretch has grown a backbone," she spat. "How dare she throw a tantrum now? If I don't teach her a proper lesson when we return, she'll think she can walk all over us when we're old."

In that moment, my heart withered into gray despair—I wasn't refusing her calls; I was already gone.

I was three years older than Lindsey. When I was little, Dad spilled water on the floor. I slipped and accidentally knocked into Mom, who was eight months pregnant.

The shock sent her into premature labor. Lindsey was born frail, and from that day forward, Mom laid the blame squarely on me.

"If it weren't for a jinx like you, Lindsey would've grown up healthy and strong. You owe her everything!"

Filled with injustice, I looked toward Dad pleadingly, hoping he would speak the truth. Instead, he lashed out. "Why are you looking at me like that? You brought this upon yourself, so don't try to drag me down with you!"

That was the moment I understood—he would never defend me. He would only deepen my guilt.

Sure enough, Mom's hand cracked across my face, the blow ringing in my ears. I nearly suffered a perforated eardrum.

"Today, you will kneel before Lindsey and stay there until you understand your sins."

I knelt the entire day, clinging to the hope that my innocence might sway her.

She was a famous lawyer, after all. Surely, she wouldn't condemn the blameless. But reality gave me a harsh wake-up call. Her fairness was reserved for strangers, never for me.

When Mom kicked me squarely in the chest, I finally realized how naive I had been. Her eyes were cold, her voice venomous. "Aurora, you're the reason Lindsey was born like this, and you feel no remorse. How did I end up with a daughter as rotten as you?"

That incident ended with Mom starving me for three days until I broke. I could still remember her smug words to Dad.

"This is how you discipline a child. Otherwise, they grow up without knowing their place."

And this came from a woman who had graduated top of her class in law school.

I should have seen it then—the truth that my parents never loved me. Yet I clung to hope, desperate to awaken some spark of affection in them. The hope followed me to the grave, where I still couldn't bring myself to resent them.

Now,

My thoughts snapped back to the present.

Mom and Dad were still cursing me, their words sharp and merciless, as though I weren't their daughter but their sworn enemy.

Any last ember of hope died within me. For the first time, I realized that death might have been my best ending after all.

Lindsey was finally brought home after a month in the hospital.

The moment Mom stepped inside, her eyes swept over the thick dust coating the floor and cabinets. Even the food in the fridge had turned to mold.

Her fury erupted instantly. "Where's Aurora? Did she die outside? She’s still throwing a fit like this? She’s really asking for it!"

The irony was cruel. For an entire month, they had stayed faithfully at Lindsey's side, never once sparing a thought for how I might survive alone, penniless. Only when the house lay neglected did they remember me—and even then, their first words weren't of concern, but condemnation.

I had long since grown numb to their slander. Their misunderstandings no longer pierced me. But Lindsey, as always, was eager to stoke the flames.

"I'm the one who owes Aurora an apology," she said pitifully. "I'll call her now and apologize. If she refuses, I'll go find her and kneel until she agrees to come home."

It had always been like this. Whenever Lindsey played the victim, Mom's heart would go out to her.

In fact, a few words from Lindsey were enough to shift the blame, and I would be left carrying it, as always. The injustices I'd suffered because of Lindsey since we were kids had piled up until they were impossible to track.

As expected, Mom's jaw set into a hard line. The audible grind of her teeth echoed her mounting fury, her features twisting into a mask of pure disgust.

"Does she even deserve your apology?" she spat. "It's just a platelet donation—it's not like she's dying. God, she's such a drama queen. If she refuses to come back, then fine—let her stay out there and rot!"

Still, Lindsey pressed on. She pulled out her phone and dialed my number.

Though Mom's words dripped with venom, she leaned in, listening intently, ready to unleash her wrath the moment I answered.

But my phone was powered off. Lindsey settled for sending a voice message on WhatsApp instead.

"Aurora, it's all my fault. Please don't blame Mom and Dad. Whatever it is, let's talk at home. You can hit me or scold me all you want, and I promise I won't fight back."

Her tone was sincere, almost moving.

If I hadn't known her true nature, I might have been moved.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity and still receiving no reply from me, Mom's patience snapped.

"Lindsey has already apologized, and that ungrateful wretch still refuses to respond. She doesn't deserve to be my daughter!"

With that, Mom removed me from the WhatsApp family group chat.

Once, that would have shattered me. Even though every message in that chat revolved around Lindsey, I clung to it, unable to bring myself to leave.

I deceived myself into believing that as long as I remained, I was still part of the family. I was like a thief peering into their warmth, knowing full well there was no place for me inside.

"Mom, don't be angry. Aurora isn't your only daughter. You still have me."

Having achieved her goal, Lindsey's lips curled into a smug smile as she nestled into Mom's embrace.

Mom stroked her hair tenderly. "Oh, you're the sweetest, Lindsey. I wish I'd never given birth to that ungrateful wretch at all."

I laughed bitterly. Since childhood, Mom had repeated the same refrain—I regret having you.

I wanted to scream that I never chose to be born. If I had known this was the life awaiting me, I would rather have been born a stray dog than into this family.

Even though she gave me life, I had already repaid that debt by giving it back to save her precious Lindsey. We were even now.

Dad emerged from the kitchen, beaming. Having prepared a lavish spread of dinner, he called out for Mom and Lindsey to come eat.

Mom, ever the formidable career woman, never stepped foot in the kitchen. But I'd never tasted a meal prepared by Dad, either.

Whenever it was just the two of us, he'd dismissively tell me to go fix some instant noodles myself. Yet, for Lindsey, he would rush into the kitchen, eager to cook for her.

I used to tell myself he was simply awkward, unsure how to show affection to his children. It wasn't until later that I realized it was simply because he didn't love me.

"Lindsey has just recovered, so let's not bring up that unpleasant wretch. If only she were half as sensible as Lindsey."

His words dripped with contempt, but his gaze toward Lindsey was soft, adoring. I knew Dad hated me because I was the living reminder of him causing Mom's premature labor.

The sight of the three of them happily gathered around the dinner table felt unexpectedly piercing. For the first time, I felt an urgent, desperate need to leave.

Lindsey had been home for a fortnight now. At first, our parents would still speak of me, but those mentions grew thinner and rarer until they ceased altogether. It was as if they'd collectively decided to forget I ever existed.

Early one morning, they took Lindsey to the hospital for a follow-up.

Once Lindsey's attending physician cleared her results, the three of them turned to leave when they spotted a group of nurses crowded around a video playing on a smartphone.

"How can this woman be so heartless? She actually sued her own daughter in court."

"And she's a lawyer too! With all her education, she still plays favorites. She practically drove her own daughter to her death."

Mom stopped in her tracks. The voice coming from the video was unmistakably hers.

In the video, she was passionately listing my "crimes" and even showing the courtroom clips, using the law to prove that I was legally bound to surrender my platelets.

I had remained silent throughout the trial. In the end, I asked only one question.

"Mom, would you still stand by your decision if donating platelets puts my life at risk?"

Compared to Mom's heightened emotions, my calmness was almost chilling.

Her retort rose like a tide, quickly drowning out my voice.

"How did I ever give birth to such a cold-hearted wretch? At such a critical time, you still lie through your teeth? Are you trying to send me to my grave?"

Ultimately, I didn't argue further. I knew she wouldn't believe me. She was desperate to save Lindsey.

That plea had been my last grasp of hope. Just as I felt myself breaking down, I bit down hard on my thumb. Only then did I manage to compose myself.

"Fine, I'll donate my platelets."

I knew refusal was pointless. Mom would win with her silver tongue, even if it meant discarding dignity for Lindsey's sake. If she was willing to sacrifice everything, then perhaps I should surrender my own life too.

Mom suddenly snapped at the nurses. "What nonsense are you all spouting? What's this talk about driving her own daughter to death?"

She then lunged forward, snatching the phone away. On the screen, her face was twisted into a mask of vitriol, her eyes burning with a look of pure unadulterated hatred directed at me.

The nurse was startled by her. But after glancing at Mom and then back at the phone, she chuckled coldly.

"So you’re the lawyer mom who sued her eldest daughter for her younger one. You’re so biased—your daughter was so unlucky to have you as her mother!"

Mom's face contorted as she flung the phone away as if it were diseased.

"Did I say anything wrong? She wouldn't even donate platelets to her own sister! Where does she get the nerve to keep living? When Lindsey is suffering, shouldn't Aurora make the sacrifice as the elder sister?"

Letting out an icy laugh, she raked a cold gaze over everyone present.

"Did that wretched little brat pay you to stir trouble?" she asked with a scoff. "Well, tell her not to think for a second that her 'generosity' with those platelets changes anything. If she doesn't apologize to Lindsey, I'd rather she die out there."

"Stop it!" The nurse's near-hysterical scream froze Mom where she stood.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Mom's eyes began to rim with red. "What's wrong with you people? Did I say anything wrong? It's her fault—selfishly surviving while refusing to help her sister!"

"Stop! As you wish, your eldest daughter is already dead."

Mom was stunned for a moment. Then disdain flickered across her face. "What are you talking about? Did she ask you to—"

The nurse's fists clenched, her gaze sharp as flint. "We're not heartless enough to joke about life! Your eldest daughter bled to death in the hospital! Are you happy now?"

The smirk froze on Mom's face.

Dad, who had just caught up, stood rooted to the spot behind Mom. Then, his fingers went slack, and the phone slipped from his hand and shattered into pieces.