After donating my bone marrow to Chloe, I developed a 104-degree fever. I had to take an Uber home from the hospital all by myself. When I pushed the door open, my parents were throwing a recovery party for Chloe. There were banners, fresh flowers, and a three-tier cake. I told them I was dizzy and could barely stand. But Robert didn't even look up from his phone. "Young people bounce back fast. Don't be so dramatic." That night, I accidentally found Eleanor's diary in the study. On the very first page, a sentence read: "The doctor suggested having another child as a 'savior sibling'. A family donor has the highest HLA matching rate." The next fifteen years of journal entries were entirely about Chloe's illness. My name only appeared under columns labeled "Donor," "Matching Match," "Bone Marrow Harvest," and "Follow-up." It turned out I was never the daughter they wanted. I was just a "spare parts kit" they raised with their own hands. "Iris, what do you think you're snooping through?" Eleanor snatched the diary from my hands. She did it so hard that the sharp edge of the paper sliced across my index finger, leaving a bright red cut. She snapped, "Do you have any concept of personal privacy?" I watched a bead of blood well up on my fingertip. The sharp sting traveled straight to my brain. "Privacy?" I looked up, staring right into her eyes. "You mean the privacy of using me as Chloe's walking blood bag?" Thud. She slammed the diary onto the table. Robert finally looked up, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "Iris, watch your tone when speaking to Eleanor." "We've raised you for fifteen years. How have we ever wronged you?" I let out a bitter laugh and took a step back. "You gave birth to me just to see if I was a match for Chloe." "You fed me well just to keep my lab results perfect, so you could pump out my marrow for Chloe whenever she needed it." I pointed at the yellowed diary on the desk. "You're a renowned cardiac surgeon, Robert. Have you ever once looked at me as an actual human being?" Robert's face darkened. "In medicine, a sibling donor is the absolute best option. If Chloe hadn't been sick, we wouldn't even have had a second child." He didn't even bother to offer a fake apology. Eleanor sighed and wrapped her arm around Robert's. "Robert, let it go. Iris just finished the transplant. It's normal for her to be emotionally unstable." She turned to me, her voice returning to that suffocatingly gentle, reasonable tone. "Iris, I've always taught you to look at the bigger picture." "How can you reduce such a beautiful family sacrifice to something as ugly as being a 'blood bag'?" This was my parents. They always used the most noble words to cover up their extreme favoritism. I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was filled with broken glass. "Then why does Chloe get a grand welcome-home party with the whole family?" "While I was running a 104-degree fever, and not a single person showed up to drive me home from the hospital?" The room fell dead silent for a second. Chloe appeared at the doorway, wearing a silk nightgown, her face pale. "Iris, I'm so sorry..." "It's all my fault. My illness ruined this family." "If it weren't for saving me, you wouldn't hate Eleanor and Robert so much." "If it makes you feel better... you can hit me. I won't blame you." Eleanor rushed over and pulled Chloe tightly into her arms. "Chloe, what are you doing out of bed? You just got discharged! Your immune system is so weak. You can't catch a draft!" Robert frowned, quickly walking over to shut the hallway window. When he looked back at me, his eyes were filled with pure disgust. "Look at Chloe. She's so weak, yet she's still thinking of you. And here you are, throwing a tantrum over nothing!" "Iris, where is your empathy? Did you leave it at the hospital?" I looked at the three of them holding each other tightly. A wave of nausea hit my stomach. "You're right," I muttered, corner of my mouth twitching. "My empathy was sucked right out of my bones and pumped into your golden girl." Eleanor's face turned incredibly ugly. "You are absolutely hopeless!" She covered Chloe's ears as if I were some kind of toxic waste. "Go to your room and think about what you've done! Don't come out for dinner tonight until you write a two-thousand-word apology letter!" The door was slammed shut in my face. I leaned against the cold wood, listening to their fading footsteps outside. I could hear Eleanor's muffled, comforting voice: "Don't be scared, Chloe. Iris is just being childish. Come on, I made some organic chicken soup for you." I walked over to my desk. I pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside lay a thick stack of blood donation certificates, bone marrow aspiration notices, and hospital bills. Fifteen years. Every ounce of my flesh and blood had been reduced to data tracking Chloe's recovery.
In the middle of the night, a sharp, stabbing pain in my bones woke me up. It was a lingering side effect of the transplant. Even though I curled up tight under the blanket, I couldn't stop shivering from the cold. I dragged myself out of bed in the dark. My bare feet hit the cold floor. I wanted to go to the medicine cabinet in the living room for some ibuprofen. But as I cracked my door open, I saw the living room lights were bright. Eleanor and Robert were in the kitchen, making seafood chowder. "Chloe just regained her hematopoiesis. Her digestive system needs careful regulation. I'll buy more organic veggies tomorrow." I stood in the shadows, watching them work together seamlessly. It felt like watching a heartwarming family documentary that I hadn't been cast in. The pain in my bones worsened. I pushed the door open. Eleanor's hands paused. She turned around, her brow instantly furrowing. "Iris? Why are you out? Weren't you supposed to stay in your room and reflect?" I walked to the medicine cabinet and rummaged through it for the ibuprofen. "My bones hurt. I came to get some painkillers." Robert turned around. "Iris, I've told you many times. Relying on painkillers for minor aches is highly unscientific." "Using your willpower to push through is much better for your liver and kidneys." I let out a cold laugh. "But Chloe drinking seafood chowder at midnight is healthy?" Robert raised his voice. "Iris! Don't use cheap arguments to play your sibling rivalry games." Eleanor's voice softened a fraction. "Alright, Iris. Now that you have your pills, go back to bed." "Chloe's immune system is very low right now. Don't disturb her." In this house. Even my breathing was treated as a threat to Chloe. "Fine. I promise I won't get in her way ever again." The next morning. Eleanor knocked on my door. "Iris, pack up your things today." I sat at my desk, pausing my work on my SAT prep materials. "Pack up for what?" Eleanor scanned my bedroom. "Chloe is recovering now. Her doctor says she needs more sunlight to help with calcium absorption. You're giving this room to her." I looked at her calm face. "Why should I?" Eleanor's expression instantly soured. "Iris, are you being selfish again?" "Chloe suffered so much just to survive. As her sister, you can't even give up a brighter bedroom for her?" She turned and walked out of the room. She immediately called in the maid who had been waiting in the hallway. "Maria, move all these books and clothes to the other room. Anything useless, just throw it away." She didn't give me any chance to argue. She used the most brutal way to enforce her version of "fairness." I stepped aside, watching my life being packed away piece by piece. "Don't worry about the trouble," I said to the confused maid. "I'll throw them away myself."
After moving to the basement, I ran a fever for three whole days. The basement got zero sunlight. The damp, freezing air crept straight into my bones. I spent my days wrapped in a thick blanket, listening to the laughter coming from Chloe's room upstairs. Some of Chloe's friends had come over to visit. Eleanor had hired a private chef to cater afternoon tea, and Robert had even taken a day off just to be home. "Chloe, you look amazing now!" "I know, right? Your parents are so sweet. They even moved that limited-edition grand piano into your room!" Chloe's soft, sweet voice drifted down through the poorly insulated floorboards. "It's nothing, really. Actually, this was Iris's room." "I felt so bad about taking it, but Eleanor and Robert insisted." Her friends instantly raised their voices. "Oh my god, did Iris give you attitude about it?" "You literally just survived a life-or-death crisis! What's wrong with Iris giving up a room? If it were me, I'd gladly give my sister half my life!" I chuckled coldly. They had no idea. I had already given Chloe my life. On the fourth day, I had to go to school to submit my final confirmation form for the Ivy League Fast-track Summer Program. This was a spot I had earned after staying up countless nights, keeping my GPA at the absolute top of the district for three years. Once I got into this program, I would get a direct, low-threshold admission to my dream university, allowing me to escape this suffocating house forever. Pushing past my weakness, I put on my school uniform, grabbed the parental consent form, and walked out. When I reached the second-floor living room. I saw a completely absurd scene. Mr. Davis. The admissions director of the prestigious university in our state. He was sitting on our couch, chatting warmly with Robert. "Dr. Vance, since Chloe has fully recovered, giving this fast-track spot to her is our most optimal choice after careful evaluation." The admissions director took a sip of the tea Eleanor had brewed, smiling. "After all, a profile that includes overcoming a major illness is highly favored in college admissions interviews." I felt like I had been struck by lightning. My feet were glued to the floor. "What do you mean?" My voice was raspy, laced with raw anger. "That spot is mine. I earned it with my grades." The laughter in the living room died instantly. The smile on Robert's face vanished, replaced by an icy glare. He stood up and walked over to me, blocking the admissions director's view of me. "Iris, where are your manners?" "This is Mr. Davis from the admissions board. Apologize right now." I clutched the consent form in my hand so hard my knuckles turned white. "I asked you, what do you mean? Why is my spot being given to Chloe?" Eleanor quickly set down the teapot and rushed over, trying to grab my arm. "Iris, stop being so difficult!" She lowered her voice, speaking in a rapid, freezing tone that only the three of us could hear. "Chloe had to take a two-year medical leave. Her academic profile needs a strong highlight to fill the gap." "Your grades are outstanding anyway. You can get into any good college easily." "You don't need this one summer program!" I shook off Eleanor's hand violently. "I don't agree!" Slap! A stinging slap landed squarely on my left cheek. Robert's hand hung in the air, his eyes behind his glasses incredibly dark and menacing. "Iris, is this how I raised you? Where are your values? Do you have any idea how much psychological damage Chloe will suffer if she doesn't get this spot?" "I am your father. I have the right to allocate our family's educational resources. This spot belongs to Chloe." My ears rang. The throbbing pain on my face was nothing compared to the absolute, icy numbness in my chest. Chloe sat in her wheelchair nearby, gasping in shock and covering her mouth. "Robert, please don't hit Iris." "I don't want the spot anymore. Give it back to her. She worked so hard for it..." She teared up right on cue—a perfect victim performance. Mr. Davis looked incredibly uncomfortable. He quickly stood up to ease the tension. "Dr. Vance, family harmony comes first. Since we've made the decision, I'll take my leave. We'll proceed with the spot as discussed." The front door closed. Eleanor ran over to hug Chloe, looking heartbroken. "Chloe, sweetheart, don't cry. Iris is just an ungrateful brat. She doesn't understand how much you've suffered." I didn't argue anymore. I didn't try to fight for that piece of paper that was now as useless as trash. I slowly bent down, picking up my scattered papers from the floor one by one. "Fine." I looked up at Robert, who was staring down at me. I was incredibly calm. "Consider this spot the final blood transfusion."
After my college spot was stolen, I contacted a university located two thousand miles away in the north. After passing several rounds of intense online exams. I finally reached the final interview stage. This was my last ticket out of here. Early in the morning, I stood in the dining room, looking at Robert and Eleanor drinking their coffee. "This afternoon at three. I need both of you to come with me to sign some paperwork." In reality, I wanted them to sign the Emancipation Declaration and Waiver of Parental Rights. Robert said coldly, "Got it." I stared at the clock on the wall, waiting like I was waiting for a final verdict. By two in the afternoon. I arrived at the office early. Outside, the sky was pitch black. A heavy thunderstorm was brewing. Two-thirty. No response. I dialed Robert's number. Busy. I dialed Eleanor's number. Straight to voicemail. Two-forty-five. The clerk called my name. "Miss Vance, are your parents not here yet? Your turn is almost up." I stared at the paperwork in my sweaty hands. Just as I was about to give up and explain the situation to the officer. Eleanor sent me a video on Snapchat. In the video, Chloe was standing in the gallery of the city's most famous private art exhibition. Her face was slightly pale, and she was leaning against Robert's chest, gasping for air. Eleanor was speaking anxiously off-camera. A text message popped up right after: [Iris, tell the staff to postpone the signing by one day.] [Chloe just had a sudden panic attack at the art gallery. Her heart rate is dangerously high. Robert and I have to take her for a full psych evaluation and an EKG right now. We can't make it.] [Be mature about this. Chloe's condition can't handle any stress.] They never intended to come sign the papers. They had planned all along to take Chloe to the art exhibition she had been begging to see for weeks. "Kid, are we doing this or not?" The officer tapped on the glass partition, looking impatient. I took a deep breath, slid my parents' copied IDs and a special file I had been secretly preparing for two weeks through the slot. "Yes, we are." I pointed at the document titled *Declaration of Emancipation and Waiver of Inheritance and Parental Responsibility*. "I'll sign it myself." Five minutes later, I walked out into the pouring rain with the approved declaration. The freezing rain drenched my face. But I had never felt more awake in my entire life.
The thunderstorm washed over the entire city. I returned to that freezing basement, pulling open the drawer that was already half empty. Aside from my ID and a change of clothes. I threw everything else connecting me to this house into the trash can. The only thing left was that thick folder containing fifteen years of blood donation records and bone marrow biopsy reports. I placed it neatly right in the center of the desk. Beside it, I laid the photocopy of my newly stamped *Declaration of Emancipation and Waiver of Parental Responsibility*. By the time I finished packing, the sky was pitch black. The house was terrifyingly quiet. They hadn't come back yet. Perhaps Chloe's "panic attack" required a night in a luxury suite at the private hospital. I threw my backpack over my shoulder. Without looking back once, I took an Uber straight to the train station. Four hours later. I was standing in a northern city two thousand miles away, where the snow had not yet melted. The biting wind whipped against my neck. Lily, the teaching assistant sent by my new university advisor, handed me a hot cup of coffee. "Iris, the professor already knows about your situation." Lily looked at my single, thin suitcase, her eyes softening with sympathy. "Your dorm is all set up. If you want, this place can be your home from now on." I took the cup, the warmth radiating into my palms. It was so warm. "Thank you." I took out my phone, pulled out my old SIM card. I snapped it in half and threw it into the snow by the street. Meanwhile, two thousand miles away. At three in the morning. The front door of the Vance mansion finally opened. Robert took off his heavy coat, looking exhausted. "Is Chloe asleep?" Eleanor slipped into her slippers, whispering, "She's sound asleep. The doctor said the gallery was just too crowded, which triggered her claustrophobia." "Robert, we really let Iris down today. I wonder if her interview got ruined." Robert snorted, walking over to the bar to pour some water. "How ruined could it be?" "An interview for some random local college. What difference does one day make?" "If she tries to throw a fit, I'll just cut off her allowance for the month. Let's see if she still wants to act up." Eleanor sighed and walked toward the couch. "I'll go check on her. We did ignore her all day..." She pushed open my door, intending to give me a quick lecture as usual, followed by some empty promises. "Iris..." Eleanor's voice caught in her throat, as if someone had suddenly choked her. In the dark room, lit only by the hallway light. The empty bed was as neat and cold as a tombstone. The desk was completely bare, except for a stack of old manila folders and a white sheet of paper. "Robert!" Eleanor's scream shattered the quiet night. Robert rushed over, holding his glass of water. "Why are you screaming? You're going to wake Chloe!" Eleanor's trembling hand pointed at the paper on the desk. "Iris... Iris is gone." Robert walked over impatiently, but the moment his eyes landed on the paper, his brows knitted tightly together. Beside it, from the opened manila folders. Hundreds of medical records bearing the name "Donor: Iris Vance" spilled out like a waterfall. Like a silent, brutal accusation, slamming right into their faces.
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