Refusing to Donate Corneas to Stepsister

I was freezing, curled into a ball, my head throbbing without reason.

In a blurry vision, I saw my deceased father smiling and reaching out to me, beckoning me to join him.

Instinctively, I reached out, but just as I was about to touch him, I realized he had been gone for years.

I started sobbing loudly, "I don't want to die! I want to live! I still have school to attend!"

The next morning, as my mom was taking my stepsister to school, she discovered me lying in the hallway, convulsing, unconscious.

She knelt down and slapped me twice across the face.

"Lexi, you really play the part well, don't you? Get up, stop playing dead!"

When I remained unresponsive and started foaming at the mouth, she finally panicked.

A neighbor on his way to work saw my condition and hurriedly carried me to the hospital.

The doctor diagnosed me with a high fever from an infected wound and urged immediate hospitalization to avoid death.

Yet, hearing the upfront cost, my mom hesitated.

She tried to pull me off the hospital bed, muttering, "This much for treatment? Why don't you just rob us? Lexi, get up, if you're going to die, do it at home!"

If not for the compassionate doctor who covered my medical expenses and cared for me, I might have died.

On the day of my discharge, she gently touched my head and said softly, "Lexi, take care of yourself. Remember, if you ever face any trouble, come find me."

I nodded, still too naive to understand that she would be my lifeline.

On the way home, I reassured myself quietly, "Just obey, Lexi. If you listen, things will start to look up."

But they didn't.

I never even got the chance to obey.