Nothing Left to Owe My Family

The second that massive, terrifying needle slid out of my spine, I collapsed like a popped balloon.

Two bodyguards quickly grabbed my limp arms and roughly dumped me onto the cold floor. I curled into a ball, shaking uncontrollably.

My brother, Wallace Hayden, loomed over me, blocking out the fluorescent lights.

"Cut the act, Mary!" he snapped. "Seriously? We paid for you to sit around eating and drinking in a psych ward for three years, and now you're acting like a little marrow extraction is killing you?

"You're spineless! Your foster parents were right. You're just a lazy, manipulative brat."

The insults hit me with the familiar sting they had for the last three years, squeezing the air from my lungs. I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn't faking.

Pancreatic cancer was the king of cancer. By the time it was discovered, it was already terminal, and it progressed incredibly fast.

Lately, the pain was so bad I couldn't even sit or lie down normally. And I hadn't eaten in two days just so I could save enough pocket change for those two ice cream cones.

I only got a few bites in before my mother, Beryl Hayden, smashed them out of my hand with her purse, leaving them to melt into a puddle on the pavement.

I regretted buying them. I shouldn't have been so greedy.

Before a word could form, a blinding spasm of pain ripped through my stomach. It was starting again. Trembling, I fumbled through my shirt pocket and managed to pull out a painkiller.

But before it could reach my lips, Wallace snatched it from my fingers.

"What's this? What games are you playing now?" He stared at the pill, his expression flickering between suspicion and confusion.

Right then, the foster daughter, Chantal Hayden, came skipping down the hall, lifting the hem of her princess dress.

"Oh, Wallace! I just heard the nurses talking. They said Mary found out I was sick and decided to fake being sick too, just to get everyone's attention. I can't believe she even brought props to make it look real. That's pathetic."

The veins on Wallace's forehead bulged. He slammed the pill onto the floor and ground it into powder under his shoe. "Mary, you really are a lost cause. Disgusting!"

A broken sob slipped out of my throat. "No..."

That was my last pill, saved for the very end. Every time the pain got bad enough to make me scream, I would just hold it tightly in my hand, forcing myself to endure it.

But Wallace turned his back on me, completely freezing me out. He placed a gentle arm around Chantal, his voice instantly turning indulgent.

"Let's go, Chantal," he said softly. "I booked the rooftop at the Citadel tonight. Just us. Order whatever you want. Waste it all if you feel like it."

Chantal's face lit up immediately. "Wow! Booking that place costs $50,000 a night! Wallace, you're the best!"

"That's just pocket change," Wallace chuckled. "Dad already had his personal shopper send the newest jewelry collection to our private room."

Their voices faded as they walked away. I collapsed against the icy floor, the tears finally pouring out.

Why did Chantal get to waste a lavish dinner without a second thought? But when I spent less than a dollar on two ice cream cones I'd never even tasted, it made me greedy and spoiled?

I was the one who shared their blood. I was the real daughter.

...

Once the worst of the pain passed, I dragged myself back to my "home" under the highway bridge. Licking the faint trace of leftover sweetness from my lips, I slowly fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up feeling strangely energized. I grabbed my burlap sack as usual, getting ready to go collect plastic bottles.

It might be a final burst of energy, but my head was clear. I wanted to make a little more cash and had my eye on a biscuit tin at a thrift shop.

Someone told me the cheapest urn at the crematorium cost 200 dollars. There was no way I'd ever have that kind of money.

I had just hoisted the bag over my shoulder when Wallace materialized out of nowhere, looking annoyed. "The marrow match was a 100% success. You can come home now.

"Faking sick, sleeping under a bridge, digging through trash... You went through all this drama just to get our attention, didn't you? Well, congratulations. Aren't you thrilled?"