ONE

The swing doors of the James Norton Hospital’s emergency ward burst open to a world of chaos. Jane McKay clutched her ballooning belly as she was hurried into the ER on a stretcher, whimpering in agony as tears flowed freely down her pain-stricken face. Flashing red and blue lights accompanied by an alarming siren rang overhead. There were doctors, nurses and medical staff tending to patients of all forms.

“Please, doctor…help me,” she moaned as another spasm of nauseating cramp claimed her, sending a tremor throughout her body. It felt like her body was splitting into two!

“Ahhhh!” Jane cried; she could not take it anymore.

At that moment, a short plump hand clamped onto her shoulder with the ferocity of the grim reaper itself.

“Shut up will you?” Mrs McKay, Jane’s stepmother hissed at a weakened Jane, ignoring the fact that her stepdaughter’s knee-length skirt was thoroughly soaked with blood. The older woman’s botox filled face contorted into one of disgust and rage as she continued to berate Jane, “You’ve shamed us enough as it is. Do you need to announce your bastard’s birth to the world?!”

A nurse in light blue scrubs came up to them and held up a hand to stop Mrs McKay, “Ma’am, please wait outside, we’ll take it from here.”

“Make way!” a doctor shouted, pushing past a disgruntled Mrs McKay and with that, Jane disappeared through the doors of the operating theatre.

No sooner had Jane disappeared from view than a tall lean man with salt peppered hair came, pushing his way through the throng of patients and medical staff and limped to Mrs McKay’s side. Deep ravines etched across his forehead as he panted breathlessly, “Where is she? Where’s Jane?”

Mrs McKay had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, “She’s fine dear. She’s in the operating theatre.”

The man was extremely dissatisfied with her answer. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly “Why didn’t you look after her? You know she’s already in her third trimester!”

And just as how a coin has two faces, Mrs KcKay’s demeanour suddenly turned a hundred and eighty degrees and a single tear formed at the corner of her heavily painted eyes.

“Oh darling, how can you say that?” she whispered as she wiped away the only tear she managed to squeeze out. “You know I love her just as much as you do … how could you accuse me of  –“

The stepmother’s acting chops were put to an end when the door of the operation theatre suddenly opened. Out ran the same nurse in light blue scrubs with a worried look on her face. John McKay, Jane’s father pounced on her the moment he spotted the harried nurse, “Where’s Jane? How is she?”

The nurse’s gaze shifted from Jane’s icy cold stepmother to her overly worried father. There were bags under the nurse’s eyes and she was obviously overworked but was still compassionate enough to give Jane’s father a reassuring smile,” The baby’s out and he’s a healthy boy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to - ”

John Mckay shook his head furiously, cutting the nurse mid-sentence, “No, no, I don’t care about the baby! What about my daughter? Is she alright?”

At this, the nurse inhaled sharply, “Sir, your daughter lost a lot of blood. She’ll be in critical condition if we don’t do a blood transfusion now. I need to go to the blood bank asap.” With that, she ran past the elderly couple, made a mad dash down the hall and disappeared around the corner, leaving John McKay standing there in shock. His face was drained of colour and his lips paled as he slumped against the hospital corridor.

“Oh God…please let Jane be okay…” he choked back a sob, cupping his face in his calloused hands.

She can bite the dust for all I care, Mrs McKay thought and a tiny smile crept onto her lips. But for the sake of acting the bereaved stepmother, she quickly covered her mouth with a bright pink tissue and pretended to blow her nose.

“Oh John, Jane will be alright. She’s in good hands,” she patted her husband’s shoulder even as excitement raced through her veins. To her, Jane was the scourge of the family and a thorn that needed to be pruned.

“Yes, she’ll be fine,” John muttered to himself, “She has to be, she’s a fighter. My daughter’s a fighter!”  It was true, Jane was a tough girl who had stared at death in the face before and pulled through. John McKay could only hope and pray that his daughter would be able to cheat death one more time. He couldn’t lose her, it just wasn’t right for the old to bury the young.

“Sir! Mr McKay! Sir!” the nurse came running back, panting.

John Mckay’s weary head shot up and fear pulled at his heartstrings, “What is it? Have you gotten the blood bag?”

The nurse was exasperated, “No sir, we’ve run out of her blood type. She’s got a very rare blood type. I came to ask if you have any relatives or friends who might be - ”

John Mckay’s face lit up, “It’s not that rare, I’m A positive, both my late wife and I are A positive. I can donate my blood to –“

“No sir, you can’t. She’s AB negative,” the nurse shook her head sadly when suddenly, another nurse in blue scrubs came running towards them shouting, “We’ve got it! We found a doner! Let’s go!”

The first nurse’s face lit up like a lightbulb and she whirled around to face the elderly man, “Oh thank the heavens! You’re daughter’s going to be alright!”

But John McKay was not listening. If he had been in shock before, he was close to having a heart attack now. The nurse gave him an odd look before racing with her colleague down the hall to retrieve the blood bag.

AB negative.

The words danced around John’s mind like gipsies around a bonfire. Only the bonfire was too hot and bright that it burned him.

“How can this be?” he whispered to himself in disbelief. He closed his eyes and took slow deep breaths as he tried to process the information. He was sure his late wife had the same blood type as he did. After all, he had donated blood to her countless times during her fight with leukaemia two decades ago. He remembered his wife thanking him for his sacrifices and promising him that they would bring Jane up together. Sadly for them, it was a broken promise. She died before Jane got to blow her first birthday candle.

Back in the present, his current wife almost went on her knees with a hallelujah.

“Yes, how can that be?” she echoed her husband’s words in mocked surprise. She could not believe her luck; after all these years, she would finally be able to get rid of that pesky young woman from the house.

“Oh John,” she called upon her most heart-wrenching voice. “If she’s of a different blood type, that can only mean one thing.” Her tattooed eyebrow arched as high as it could as she peered at her grief-stricken husband’s face.

“She’s not your daughter John,” she whispered, letting the words hang in the air.

“Stop…just stop. I can’t be here. I … I need to sign the baby’s paperwork. I need to think. “

***

There was pain. At first, it was everywhere, heavy and unbearable and Jane struggled to return to consciousness. But when she finally managed to open her eyes, she was greeted by the sight of her arrogant stepmother. Arrogant would be too kind a word. The woman was standing over her, gloating.

“So the bastard awakes,” she said.

Jane, still groggy from the epidural that the doctor had injected into her frowned as she scanned for her father. “Where’s Pa?” she asked weakly only to have her stepmother suddenly land a stinging blow across her face. A deep red mark started to appear on her milky white cheek.

“Pa?” the woman sneered. She leaned over and grabbed a fistful of Jane’s dark chestnut hair before Jane could react and whispered menacingly into her ear,” You’re a harlot, just like your mother.”

Jane’s eyes widened at the accusation. She fought to push away the numbing mist that wrapped around her brain. Was she having a nightmare? She tried to wrestle her hair from the woman’s grasp only to find that her wrist was restrained by the IV drip. Her stepmother jerked her head up and tsked, “You don’t know it yet, do you? Your mother was a whore, just like you.”

“What on earth are you talking about? Where’s Pa?” Jane cradled her cheek. She’d tolerated her stepmother’s bullying all these years for the sake of her father, but this had gone too far. Jane would not have this woman rain blasphemy on her mother! Surely Pa would put a stop to all this insanity.

“Pa? He’s not your father! And he's had enough of you! First, your mother slept around and then you. You are truly from the same mould. You and your child are nothing but trash!” her stepmother claimed, spit flying onto Jane’s face.

Jane sat up with great difficulty, scanning the room for her father. Her stepmother laughed bitterly, “He won’t come. You’re not his daughter. We found that you’re of a totally different blood type.”

“You,” her stepmother continued, her voice dripping with venom, “You’re not part of the McKay family anymore. Consider the past twenty years a charity from John. So don’t you dare set your filthy foot in our house ever again! I swear, if you do, I’ll make you pay for it with your life!”

With that, the woman turned and walked out of the hospital room, her heels clicking away at the tiled floors until she disappeared out of sight.

Jane sat on her bed, blinking as the news set in. Quickly, she picked up the patient chart that hung at her bed’s railing and scanned her report. She was type AB negative.

“But Ma and Pa were A positive…” her words trailed off as memories of yesteryear came back. As a child, she had learnt that the letter A stood for Pa and Ma’s blood type.

I’m not my father’s child, she thought as an invisible heavy hand pressed against her chest, squeezing it tight all the way up until she could not breathe. Then who am I?

Her thoughts went to her father and Jane could only imagine how upset he must be. They’d loved each other dearly and her father had stood by her side even when her world crumbled, but now…what was she to do?

Jane was not given the time to properly gather her thoughts for at that moment, a nurse came carrying her wailing baby in a light blue cloth and dumped it in her hands. She swiftly proceeded to remove the IV drip from Jane’s wrist as Jane stared at her baby. It was a healthy seven-pound baby boy with an extremely healthy set of lungs.

“Ms McKay, you can start packing now. You’re leaving right now.”

Jane blinked, unsure if she had heard the nurse correctly, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the nurse said as she took the chart from Jane’s lap and started to write something in it.

“But…but I just gave birth,” Jane replied, slightly exasperated.

The nurse's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she continued to fill in the file, “Yes, under normal circumstances, mothers get to stay and recuperate for a day or two, but in your case,” the nurse clicked at her pen and finally met Jane’s bewildered gaze, “you have to leave right now. You don’t have health insurance to cover your stay and your family has refused to pay for you.”

No words came out of Jane’s mouth as grief, uncertainty, fear and disappointment filled her heart and pooled in her almond-shaped eyes. Outside, clouds started to gather and swallowed up the moon, mirroring the despair Jane felt inside.

The nurse patted Jane’s slender shoulder, “Sweetheart, crying’s not gonna solve anything. You’re a mother now, so you gotta start acting like one. So chop-chop, time to make way for another patient.”