Chapter 4

I curled up on the floor, writhing in agony, the pain so unbearable I could barely think.

Blood poured through my fingers in a hot rush, staining the floor a deep, vivid red.

"Iris!"

"Oh my God—what did she do?!"

My father and the doctors were frozen in shock for a moment, then swarmed around me.

"Her eye! Someone look at her eye!"

A nurse screamed.

The pain was so intense I was on the verge of passing out, but I bit down hard on my lip and forced myself not to scream again.

Through the blurry haze of my left eye, I saw my mother's face—pale, stunned, frozen.

I trembled, mustering every last shred of strength to push out the words, "Mom… now… you won't have to see my eyes anymore…"

A pool of blood spread across the floor beneath me.

For just a split second, something flickered in my mother's eyes—something almost like shock.

But the very next moment, her gaze landed on Alice lying in the hospital bed, and her expression went cold again.

"Doctor! Take Iris's blood first! She's type A—you can use her blood to save Alice!"

My heart plummeted in that instant.

The ache in my chest seemed to drown out even the searing pain in my eye socket.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat felt tight, locked shut.

Mom… in your eyes, is my life really worth that little?

The doctor who'd been examining my wound hesitated.

He spoke carefully, his voice uneasy, "Mrs. Ballmer, Iris just donated blood not long ago. Drawing more from her right now could put her life in serious danger…"

My mother cut him off, nearly hysterical, "I don't care! Even if it takes her life to save Alice's, she deserves it! She owes this to Alice! She owes it to this family! Just draw it already!"

The doctor looked at my mother's frenzied state, then down at me—barely clinging to consciousness.

In the end, he let out a helpless sigh and reluctantly began preparing the blood draw equipment.

It had only been a few hours since my last donation. And now, that cold needle was piercing my arm all over again.

But strangely, this time, I couldn't feel the pain anymore.

Everything in front of me was a blur of red. I struggled to keep my one good eye open, watching as my blood flowed through the tube and into the collection bag.

And in my chest, for the first time ever, I felt something like peace.

If I could trade my life for my sister's, would Mom finally stop hurting?

Would this family finally go back to normal?

That would be fine. That would be for the best.

The world around me slowly faded to black. The sounds grew distant, muffled.

Just as my consciousness began to slip away, I heard the doctor's voice, tinged with panic.

"Mrs. Ballmer… are you sure you want to continue? Iris doesn't seem like she can hold on much longer."

Even though I was exhausted beyond words, even though I could barely keep my eyes open, I found myself holding my breath—waiting for my mother's answer.

Then, her voice cut through the fog, cold and hard, "Keep going."

Those two words hit me like a sledgehammer, shattering the last fragile shred of hope I'd been clinging to.

All the strength drained out of me. I was tired—so, so tired.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I felt myself slipping away.

Suddenly, a nurse burst into the blood draw room in a panic.

"Dr. Henwick! Wait! Alice's blood isn't type A!"

The doctor froze mid-motion. "What?"

The nurse held up the lab report, her voice trembling with disbelief. "She's type O! Alice is type O!"

My mother lunged forward and snatched the paper from her hands. All the color drained from her face in an instant.

"No… that's impossible! How can that be?!"

She whipped around to look at me—still strapped to the blood draw chair, my face ashen and lifeless.