Stolen Nine Years, Courtesy of My Mother

My sister, Anna Hawkins, and I are twins, but I'm slightly heavier than her when we were born.

Anna has always been weak and sickly since young, whereas I'm always active and healthy.

When Anna was four years old, she was diagnosed with leukemia.

Mom blamed me for stealing Anna's nutrients when I got born, so I needed to return the nutrients to her.

When I got my blood extracted for the first time, a thick syringe was used on me. I was so scared when I saw it.

Mom told me not to be scared. She gave me a magical pen, stating that whatever wish I wrote down with the pen would come true.

I wrote, "It won't hurt."

When the syringe was plunged into my arm again, Mom bought me a sweet lollipop. The pain never struck me again afterward.

When I was five years old, I drew a strawberry cake on the paper while getting 1000cc blood withdrawn from me.

That week, Anna could sit up in bed and play on her own.

When I turned seven years old, I wrote down my wish that I'd like to go on a vacation. The next day, I was sent into the operating theater for the doctors to collect my hematopoietic cells.

For the first time ever, Anna's cheeks became rosy.

When I was eight years old, I wrote that I wanted to become the top student of my grade. But a day before my exams, my bone marrow was drawn from me.

Anna finally got discharged by the hospital. She got to wear new dresses that I never got to wear.

In the year I turn nine years old, my body is heavily depleted. With a trembling hand, I can only write down a line in messy handwriting.

"I hope… that I won't become Mom's daughter in my next life."

Mom appeared behind me before I even noticed. She frowned, staring intently at the words.

My heart raced. I wanted to explain, but Mom just smiled and pushed a bowl of stew toward me. The smell hit me, and my stomach churned.

Her smile froze. She grabbed me and led me to the full-length mirror. The reflection staring back at me was just a thin shadow of myself.

"You weigh less than 50 pounds now. Anyone looking at you would think I'm abusing you," she said with concern. "I make this stew for you every day to help you get stronger."

I stared at the mirror, at her familiar face, and at the worry in her eyes. The tight knot of fear in my chest finally broke.

"Mom, don't you understand why this is happening to me?"

It was the endless blood draws, the surgeries, the procedures…

Her eyes flickered for an instant. "You're imagining things again. Rest well. In a few days, there's something more important waiting for you," she said.

My breath faltered at her words, and tears pricked my eyes. I wanted to ask what she had planned for Anna Hawkins next. She had already taken my blood and bone marrow, and I feared there was more she would take from me.

Mom left, and I turned to the bowl of golden stew. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to clench my teeth and head downstairs.

Voices drifted from the living room.

Mom said, "If Anna gets a kidney transplant this time, she should be okay."

Dad took a drag from his cigarette. "I hope so, but can Jenna's body handle it?"

Mom's icy words came through the door. "What's there to fear? She's always been stubborn and competitive, even before she was born. She's strong. She won't die. If she hadn't taken what was meant for Anna, my daughter wouldn't have had to suffer like this.'"

Anna's small voice came next, carrying a note of pleading. "Mom, what if I'm still not better after the kidney?"

The room fell silent for a few seconds. My heart sank, then rose in that same moment of pause.

Then I heard Mom's matter-of-fact reply. "Then swap another one. She has two kidneys anyway."

The words hit me like needles.

Dad lowered his head and took a drag from his cigarette, saying nothing.

Anna let out a tiny, relieved sigh. "Thanks, Mom. The stew smells amazing."

Mom said, "That stew's too greasy. It's not healthy for you. Eat more fish instead. Fish makes you smart."

Anna's eyes brightened. "If I eat fish, can I be first in my class?"

Mom chuckled and replied, "You're my daughter. Of course you can!"

Something inside me shattered with a snap, yet in the fragments, a small ember of defiance and a faint plea still burned.

What if Mom still cared about me, even just a little?

I forced my weak body upright and walked toward them. The warm yellow light of the dining room fell over the steaming dishes on the table. Mom was carefully placing boneless pieces of fish onto Anna's plate.

My throat was dry as I said, "Mom."

Both of them turned. Mom's gentle expression hadn't fully faded, but when she saw me, she froze, then frowned deeply. "Why are you out here?"

I stared at the fish on Anna's plate, licking my cracked lips. "Mom, I want to eat with you."

Mom's face stiffened for a heartbeat.

Dad stubbed out his cigarette and beckoned me over. "Come on. Sit down with us."

I stepped forward, but Mom cut me off.

"No."