My sister, Anna Hawkins, and I are twins, but I'm slightly heavier than her when we were born.

Anna has always been weak and sickly since young, whereas I'm always active and healthy.

When Anna was four years old, she was diagnosed with leukemia.

Mom blamed me for stealing Anna's nutrients when I got born, so I needed to return the nutrients to her.

When I got my blood extracted for the first time, a thick syringe was used on me. I was so scared when I saw it.

Mom told me not to be scared. She gave me a magical pen, stating that whatever wish I wrote down with the pen would come true.

I wrote, "It won't hurt."

When the syringe was plunged into my arm again, Mom bought me a sweet lollipop. The pain never struck me again afterward.

When I was five years old, I drew a strawberry cake on the paper while getting 1000cc blood withdrawn from me.

That week, Anna could sit up in bed and play on her own.

When I turned seven years old, I wrote down my wish that I'd like to go on a vacation. The next day, I was sent into the operating theater for the doctors to collect my hematopoietic cells.

For the first time ever, Anna's cheeks became rosy.

When I was eight years old, I wrote that I wanted to become the top student of my grade. But a day before my exams, my bone marrow was drawn from me.

Anna finally got discharged by the hospital. She got to wear new dresses that I never got to wear.

In the year I turn nine years old, my body is heavily depleted. With a trembling hand, I can only write down a line in messy handwriting.

"I hope… that I won't become Mom's daughter in my next life."

Mom appeared behind me before I even noticed. She frowned, staring intently at the words.

My heart raced. I wanted to explain, but Mom just smiled and pushed a bowl of stew toward me. The smell hit me, and my stomach churned.

Her smile froze. She grabbed me and led me to the full-length mirror. The reflection staring back at me was just a thin shadow of myself.

"You weigh less than 50 pounds now. Anyone looking at you would think I'm abusing you," she said with concern. "I make this stew for you every day to help you get stronger."

I stared at the mirror, at her familiar face, and at the worry in her eyes. The tight knot of fear in my chest finally broke.

"Mom, don't you understand why this is happening to me?"

It was the endless blood draws, the surgeries, the procedures…

Her eyes flickered for an instant. "You're imagining things again. Rest well. In a few days, there's something more important waiting for you," she said.

My breath faltered at her words, and tears pricked my eyes. I wanted to ask what she had planned for Anna Hawkins next. She had already taken my blood and bone marrow, and I feared there was more she would take from me.

Mom left, and I turned to the bowl of golden stew. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to clench my teeth and head downstairs.

Voices drifted from the living room.

Mom said, "If Anna gets a kidney transplant this time, she should be okay."

Dad took a drag from his cigarette. "I hope so, but can Jenna's body handle it?"

Mom's icy words came through the door. "What's there to fear? She's always been stubborn and competitive, even before she was born. She's strong. She won't die. If she hadn't taken what was meant for Anna, my daughter wouldn't have had to suffer like this.'"

Anna's small voice came next, carrying a note of pleading. "Mom, what if I'm still not better after the kidney?"

The room fell silent for a few seconds. My heart sank, then rose in that same moment of pause.

Then I heard Mom's matter-of-fact reply. "Then swap another one. She has two kidneys anyway."

The words hit me like needles.

Dad lowered his head and took a drag from his cigarette, saying nothing.

Anna let out a tiny, relieved sigh. "Thanks, Mom. The stew smells amazing."

Mom said, "That stew's too greasy. It's not healthy for you. Eat more fish instead. Fish makes you smart."

Anna's eyes brightened. "If I eat fish, can I be first in my class?"

Mom chuckled and replied, "You're my daughter. Of course you can!"

Something inside me shattered with a snap, yet in the fragments, a small ember of defiance and a faint plea still burned.

What if Mom still cared about me, even just a little?

I forced my weak body upright and walked toward them. The warm yellow light of the dining room fell over the steaming dishes on the table. Mom was carefully placing boneless pieces of fish onto Anna's plate.

My throat was dry as I said, "Mom."

Both of them turned. Mom's gentle expression hadn't fully faded, but when she saw me, she froze, then frowned deeply. "Why are you out here?"

I stared at the fish on Anna's plate, licking my cracked lips. "Mom, I want to eat with you."

Mom's face stiffened for a heartbeat.

Dad stubbed out his cigarette and beckoned me over. "Come on. Sit down with us."

I stepped forward, but Mom cut me off.

"No."

Mom turned back to look at me with a frown. "Ever since Anna got sick, when have you ever come to the table without trying to grab her food? It's better if you eat in your room. That way it's good for you and for Anna."

However, I had never tried to take her food. I only wanted to sit there.

I wanted to sit under normal lights, like I did a long, long time ago. I wanted to watch Dad eat and listen to him talk about whether work had been tiring that day, instead of sitting alone with a bowl of stew that kept getting greasier the longer it sat.

Tears ran down my face without stopping.

Mom's expression changed a little. For a moment, something like helplessness, maybe even fatigue, appeared in her eyes.

She walked over and said gently, "Stop crying. Pick what you want to eat, then take it back to your room."

The kitchen lights were painfully bright, spilling across the counter. The blueberry cake looked soft and fluffy, with bright berries scattered across the peaks of cream. Beside it sat a platter of honey-glazed wings and a bowl of buttery shrimp piled high in a glass dish.

I reached toward the cheesecake.

"No," Mom cut in sharply.

My hand paused in midair. I withdrew it slowly and pointed to the shrimp instead.

"That's not allowed either."

She stepped forward and blocked the food. Her expression hardened with irritation. "Everything you picked is Anna's favorite. You're obviously doing this just to upset me."

Before I could say anything, she turned to the fridge, pulled out a plain bowl of oatmeal, and shoved it into my hands along with a small bag of pickled cucumbers. "There's already enough grease in that stew. You need something light."

I stared at the thin, bland oatmeal in the bowl, then glanced back at the counter, where all those colorful, fragrant dishes sat.

The resentment in my chest suddenly burst through its dam.

I lifted my head, my voice trembling with a stubbornness I hadn't even realized I had. "Mom. You always say our family is rich and that you can afford to raise me. Then why…"

My eyes swept across the counter. "Why is there only one portion of every good thing? Am I not your daughter too?"

Mom's pupils shrank sharply. "What did you just say?"

All the resentment buried inside me exploded. I didn't know where the strength came from, but I suddenly rushed forward and swung my arm hard across the counter.

The cake, honey-glazed wings, and buttery shrimp tumbled from the counter, scattering across the walls and floor and leaving a complete mess behind.

Anna ran over. When she saw the ruined food scattered everywhere, she broke down crying. "My cake! Mom! Jenna is being mean!"

Mom's face twisted with fury, and without warning, she grabbed my hair and began hitting me. Her fists and kicks fell mercilessly, leaving me unable to escape.

My nose burned, and a strong metallic taste filled my mouth.

A hard blow landed across my face. Something inside my mouth loosened and flew out. One of my baby teeth, stained with blood, rolled across the tile floor.

The world hummed painfully in my ears. Mom dragged me into the kitchen and yelled, "Clean all of this up! Don't even think about coming out until it's done!"

The door slammed shut and locked behind me.

I collapsed to the floor. My cheek burned with pain, and my entire body quivered as if it could not hold me up. To get through it, I began picking up the broken pieces mechanically.

A small white pill bottle rolled out from a corner.

It was Mom's sleeping pills. She always said she needed them to sleep. After a good night's rest, she wouldn't have to think about anything.

The thought hit me clearly. It was frighteningly tempting.

I twisted off the cap and poured the pills into my hand, swallowing them dry, along with the lingering metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

My throat burned as I forced them down, but an odd, unsettling calm spread through my chest.

I slid down to the floor and pressed my back against the cold cabinet.

I didn't know how long I had been sitting there when the door finally opened.

Dad stood in the doorway with an empty glass in his hand. He had probably come for water, but the moment he saw me, he forgot all about it.

His fingers trembled as they touched my cheek. "Jenna! Wake up!"

He tried to lift me, but I was exhausted and unbearably sleepy.

Later, I heard him shouting for an ambulance and Mom rushing over.

"Can't you control yourself for once? Would it make you happy if she died?" he snapped.

He lowered his head, carefully wiping the half-dried blood from my mouth.

Mom's voice, heavy with anguish, cut through the buzzing in my ears. "I've held myself back every single day for nine years, and I can't do it anymore! Why should I be forced to raise a rapist's child?"

I felt my heart stop for a moment, then pound wildly in my chest, shaking me so violently that my vision went black.

Dad sounded utterly exhausted. "No one expected it to turn out this way. Just stop talking about it."

Mom's voice broke with grief. "No! I'm going to say it!"

From the fragments of their conversation, I pieced together the truth. Mom and Dad had gotten pregnant not long after their wedding. To support the family, Dad worked nights.

One evening, Mom was assaulted by a man. She had considered ending her life and even tried to induce a miscarriage. The doctor warned that if she lost the pregnancy, she might never be able to have children again.

Over time, Mom noticed her belly growing larger, and the ultrasound revealed she was carrying twins.

"One of them has to be that rapist's!" Mom cried out. "That bastard survived, and he stole our Anna's health! He ruined Anna! He should give everything back!"

Every word burned like a red-hot iron against my heart. My hands shook violently as I covered my mouth.

At last, everything I couldn't understand fell into place. I was her daughter, and at the same time, I wasn't. I existed as living proof of that nightmare, a constant reminder of the past, a thief who had taken the health of the daughter she truly loved.

The ambulance arrived and took me away. Mom feared that anesthesia would affect Anna's upcoming surgery, so she insisted on a non-anesthetic stomach wash. Pain tore through me like fire racing along every nerve, while my body swung between the heat of a furnace and the chill of an ice bath.

My awareness floated in and out.

The door opened softly. Dad stepped inside, placing a small blueberry cake wrapped in a napkin beside my pillow. "Here, have this quietly. Don't let your mom catch you."

He pressed a hand to my forehead. "Why are you so hot?"

His voice caught Mom's attention. She rushed into the room with a grim expression. "First, you swallowed sleeping pills, and now you have a fever! Are you doing this just to make me worry?"

I lifted my heavy eyelids. Her face was hazy through the fog in my head. My throat was dry, yet I managed to whisper, "I'm sorry, Mom."

That apology had been buried in my heart for so long—for my birth, my existence, for everything.

Mom froze, staring at my flushed, trembling face. Her mouth twitched, and she finally turned away. "Forget it."

They stepped back into the corridor, but the arguing didn't stop.

"You need to give her medicine!" Dad said.

"What medicine?" Mom snapped. "She has tests tomorrow. Medicine could mess up her results—she just has to get through it!"

"Look at her! She's burning up! Jenna is your own daughter!" Dad snapped.

There was a brief pause, then Mom's voice cut through the silence. "Yes, I gave birth to her, but did I really want this? What matters more—your daughter or the rapist's? You decide for yourself."

The corridor was deathly silent. I turned to the small blueberry cake on my pillow. The berries on the cream had lost their freshness.

I took a tiny bite, and it was sharp and sour, completely unlike what I had imagined.

By the third day, my fever had broken, but my body still felt weak and fragile.

Mom touched my forehead, letting out a sigh of relief. "See? I told you—you're going to be okay."

I looked up at her and asked, "Mom, what if I don't wake up?"

She frowned deeply. "Don't be ridiculous! Every time you've had tests, every time you donated bone marrow, you made it through. You swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and survived. Your lab results are fine. Kidney surgery isn't going to kill you."

I raised my face, searching her eyes for even the tiniest crack.

"What if?" I whispered.

I wanted to see if she would care, even a little.

"There is no 'what if,'" she said calmly. "The surgery will succeed. Let's go. Don't make Anna wait."

I watched her open the door into the corridor light, then forced a bitter smile and followed.