Chapter 3: The Unspoken Sacrifice
The days in the hospital blurred into an endless loop of pain, IV drips, and the hazy fog of painkillers. I drifted in and out of consciousness, my body a battlefield, my mind struggling to piece together fragments of reality.
Noah was in another wing of the hospital, and I wasn’t allowed to see him.
My parents visited, but their faces were wrong—tight, distracted, etched with a secret too heavy to hold. I thought it was worry for Noah, their golden boy.
I was only half right.
It was worry mixed with something far more calculated.
On the fifth night, the drugs began to fade just enough for my mind to sharpen. My body still throbbed, every breath a reminder that a piece of me was gone. My remaining kidney strained to keep up.
The hallway outside my room was quiet… until it wasn’t.
I heard voices—low, urgent.
My parents.
And the doctor.
At first it was muffled.
Then clearer.
Then unmistakable.
“No other options,” my mother, Linda, was saying, her voice trembling but insistent.
“Noah needs it. He’s our son.”
The doctor sounded uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Harper, I understand, but Sarah is still recovering. Taking her other kidney would—”
My father, Mark, cut him off.
“She’s just a girl,” he said, cold and flat.
“Noah has a future. He’s going to be a doctor. She’ll… she’ll manage.”
My blood froze.
I thought I misheard.
I prayed I misheard.
But then Linda whispered, barely audible:
“It’s for the family, Doctor. Please.”
Everything inside me shattered.
My parents—my own parents—were trying to convince a doctor to take my only remaining kidney.
To let me die.
So Noah could live.
I was seventeen.
Unconscious half the time.
Barely alive.
And they were ready to sacrifice me… without hesitation.
I didn’t cry. There was no room for tears—only shock, terror, and the kind of betrayal that rewrites your soul.
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