Chapter 3

The pain grew worse in the middle of the night. I felt the ache deep in my bone marrow. I writhed on the bed in agony, my fingernails digging into the bedsheet until they left long tears in the fabric.

I couldn't take it any longer. Forcing myself to stay on my feet, I slowly made my way to the living room, one step at a time.

The living room was brightly lit. A noisy reality TV show was playing on the television, and bursts of laughter filled the air.

Mom sat on the couch peeling an orange. Dad was peeling an apple for Zara. She was telling funny stories about school, which made both of them laugh out loud.

In that brief moment, they looked like a happy family of three.

I, on the other hand, was completely out of place. I was an eyesore that didn't belong here.

The moment I realized that, my heart ached even more.

Upon hearing the shuffling of my footsteps, all three of them turned toward me at the same time. The smiles disappeared from their faces instantly, replaced by indifference.

"Why aren't you asleep yet when it's already so late? Are you trying to scare us by wandering around like a ghost?" Dad questioned impatiently with a scowl.

I clutched the hem of my shirt tightly, my voice trembling with pain as I spoke. "Dad… I'm in pain… It hurts so much that I can't stand it. I need some medicine…"

"Medicine? What medicine?" Dad slammed the fruit knife onto the coffee table. "Do you think we've got medicine lying around? Painkillers cost money, you know! Today you're in pain; tomorrow you're hurting. Why don't you just die already?"

Annoyed, Mom interrupted, "Enough. Stop scolding him. He's already in this state. Go buy him some painkillers."

Dad responded defensively, "Why should I go? Why don't you go? Besides, who's paying for the medicine?"

"You pay for it first. I'll transfer you my half later," Mom said.

"I'm not going! If anyone's going, it's you! Who knows? Maybe you'll refuse to pay again later," Dad replied hatefully.

An argument broke out between them once again. Their shrill voices were mixed with the sound of Zara clicking her tongue in annoyance.

I lowered my head and quietly returned to my room. Just when I thought I would have to endure the night on my own, my bedroom door suddenly flew open.

Mom walked in carrying a large plastic bag. She dropped it onto my nightstand.

"Get up and take your medicine," she said in a stiff voice.

I opened my eyes with difficulty. And when they finally focused, I saw what was inside the bag.

It was full of medicine. There were painkillers, anti-inflammatory medication, and several other prescriptions the doctor had ordered.

My eyes reddened instantly.

"Mom…" I called out in a choked voice as a wave of emotion welled up inside me.

Seeing my expression, Mom rolled her eyes. "What are you crying for? Hurry up and take it. I spent so much time and effort raising you. If you died now, wouldn't all of that go to waste? I don't get into deals that won't pay off."

Even though her words were still cruel, I was happy.

At least I could keep myself alive.

With trembling hands, I unscrewed the pill bottle. I poured out the tablets and swallowed them without even taking a sip of water. The bitter taste spread through my throat, but at the same time, it filled me with an overwhelming sense of relief.

Mom turned and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

From the living room, I vaguely heard her say to Dad, "I bought the medicine. Here's the receipt. Hurry up and transfer me your half."

The next day, I was admitted to the hospital.

The surgery was far too expensive. Neither of my parents was willing to pay such an enormous sum. After discussing it, they decided on conservative treatment instead.

Even without surgery, the daily hospital bills, caregiver fees, and medication costs still piled up. Every time a new bill arrived, another round of fierce arguments erupted in my hospital room.

"Why is the caregiver charging another 200 dollars this week? Can't he move around by himself? Is he crippled already?"

"Why is this imported medicine so expensive? Can't they switch him to a domestic one? It's not like he's going to recover anyway. Just keep him alive."

Meanwhile, Zara grew to hate me more with each passing day.

Pointing at me angrily, she yelled, "You're nothing but a parasite! If it hadn't been for your treatment, Dad would never have touched my education fund! You ruined my future!"

I felt even more guilty.

Not knowing what else to say, I could only apologize over and over. "I'm sorry, Zara... I'm sorry..."

To lessen their burden and not let them feel that the money had been wasted on me, I did my best to cooperate while undergoing treatment. The side effects of chemotherapy left me vomiting constantly. My hair fell out in handfuls, and the pain deep in my bones became almost unbearable.

Still, I never cried out in pain or shed a single tear in front of them.

I forced a smile onto my face and said, "It doesn't hurt. The doctor said I'm recovering well. I'll be discharged soon."