The Locked Door: A Ghost's Final Goodbye

My ears buzzed violently. Suddenly, a story Grandma used to harp on came flooding back into my mind. Back when prenatal care was less accessible, Dad didn't take Mom to the city clinic for an ultrasound until she was already five months along. It contradicted the old wives' tales and superstitious signs Grandma had banked on. Mom was carrying a second girl. The entire family was crushed. Especially Mom. She threw herself down stairs, lifted heavy furniture, drank boiling concoctions—she did every dangerous thing a pregnant woman wasn't supposed to do, desperately trying to trigger a miscarriage. Yet my heartbeat remained stubbornly strong. She had no choice but to beg a clinic for an abortion, but at five months, the procedure was too dangerous and doctors flat-out refused. She was forced to carry me to term. So the story Grandma constantly threw in my face was real. Mom had never wanted me in this world. Desperate, I thought of Emily. I looked at Dad and whispered softly, "What about Emily? She’s older than me. Shouldn’t she get tested too?" Dad glared at me with pure disgust. "Your sister is studying for her college entrance exams." Mom snapped coldly, "Emily already got tested. She wasn't a match. That’s the only reason we even called you." I froze. Before I could open my mouth, a hard, stinging slap cracked across my face. "You useless little burden! Why wasn't it you who got sick instead of my precious boy? Why is my life so cursed? Are you actually trying to refuse to donate? If you dare back out, I swear I’ll beat you to death!" The doctor couldn't bear to watch any longer. He stepped in and pulled me behind him. "Keep your voice down, this is a hospital!" "And she's just a child. It's completely normal for her to be scared. Bone marrow extraction is painful." I couldn't stand being the center of pity and ridicule in the hallway anymore. Tears blurred my vision as I choked back a sob. "Grandma, I'll do it. If I'm a match, I swear I'll donate to save Leo. Just please... stop making a scene in front of everyone." Grandma reached out and brutally pinched my bare arm. The sharp pain sent fresh tears streaming down my cheeks. She yanked me forward. Like a broken puppet, I followed the nurses for a battery of tests, then missed several days of school to prepare for the procedure. To everyone's delight, the match was a perfect ten out of ten. Mom, Dad, and Grandma were overjoyed. Mom even gave me a rare, fleeting smile. Ironically, the doctor told them that for the graft to be optimal, the donor needed to be in peak physical condition. Only then was I finally allowed to eat good food. All my life, I had never tasted prime cuts of beef or lamb. Even basic pork was something I only got a tiny taste of during holiday dinners. So the first time a plate of roast beef was placed in front of me, I devoured it like a starving animal, wiping the plate completely clean. I held onto the empty dish, wishing I could lick every stray drop of gravy. Mom watched me with sheer repulsion and rolled her eyes. "I have no idea how I gave birth to such a shameless glutton." "Eating like a feral pig. Disgusting." Growing up, I had heard insults like that thousands of times. So I didn't react. I just kept my head down, shoveling whatever scraps remained into my mouth, grease smeared across my lips. When I was finally full, I let out a soft burp. Then I curled into bed and fell into a deep, heavy sleep. Around midnight, an upset stomach woke me up. As I crept past my parents' bedroom, hushed voices made my feet freeze in place.

"It breaks my heart just thinking about it. Do you have any idea how much money it costs to feed that girl meat every single day?" "Sigh, just endure it for a bit. It’s what the doctor ordered." "If I had known, I would’ve just let Emily try." "Forget it, I could never do that to Emily. They say bone marrow donation doesn't hurt your health long-term, but who actually knows? Emily is my golden girl. She’s taking her SATs soon; I won't let anything jeopardize her future." "True. Anyway, once the procedure is done, we can cut off that extra spending." It felt like lightning struck right through my chest. I stood there, utterly paralyzed. Emily had never been tested. They just couldn't bear the thought of hurting their precious older daughter. So they used me—the worthless, unloved ghost of the house—to save their precious son. Everyone got what they wanted. Except... did anyone ever give a damn about me? Tears rolled down my cheeks, turning freezing cold against my skin in the night air. The day before the surgery, a flicker of rebellion sparked inside me for the first time in my life. I thought to myself: *My body should belong to me.* So I snuck out of the hospital ward. Yet, standing at the crosswalk just outside the hospital gates, I had no idea where to go. I didn't have a single penny in my pockets. I had no friends, nowhere to run. In the end, I just collapsed onto the dirty sidewalk, hugging my knees, sobbing helplessly. That was when Grandma spotted me as she walked back with takeout bags. Livid, she dragged me by my collar all the way back to the ward. She shoved me into the room and screamed at my parents, who were hovering around Leo’s bed. "This little viper tried to run away! She didn't want to save my boy! If I hadn't caught her at the corner, she would’ve vanished into thin air!" "You wanted your own brother to die, didn't you? You wicked, rotten little monster!" With that, Grandma began kicking and hitting me. "You still wanna run? Huh? Answer me, or I'll beat you into the ground!" I curled into a ball on the cold linoleum, shielding my head. I wept, begging for mercy. "Grandma, I won't do it again! Please stop hitting me, it hurts so bad!" The commotion grew so loud that the medical staff came running. Seeing the abuse, the nurses rushed over to pull Grandma off me. If the nurses hadn't stepped in, I had zero doubt she would have beaten me to death right there. And my biological parents? They just watched, cold and detached. "A beating will do you good," Mom sneered. "We feed you prime meat, we treat you well, just so you can save your brother. And now you try to run? You don't even care about your own flesh and blood. Are you even human?" Listening to them, an overwhelming wave of agony swallowed me whole. The words gathered at the tip of my tongue, but in the end, I swallowed them back down. What was there to say? When you aren't loved, your very existence is a crime. Being born was my only mistake. I completely abandoned the thought of running. And of course, from that moment on, my parents and Grandma watched me like a hawk watching a thief. To them, I wasn't a daughter. I was just an organ container meant to save their son. Right before I was wheeled into the OR, Mom, Dad, and Grandma clustered around Leo’s gurney, clutching his hands tight. Mom was bawling, tears and snot running down her face. Grandma was practically on her knees, wailing to the heavens, praying to every saint and deity to keep Leo safe. Not a single person looked my way. Not one person asked if I was scared of the pain. The truth was, I was terrified. In the end, the young nurse wheeling my gurney looked down at me with pure tenderness and pity. She gently squeezed my trembling hand and offered a warm, reassuring smile. "Don't be scared, honey. We're going to put you right to sleep. It’ll just feel like a nice, deep nap." Her soft words broke the dam behind my eyes. Tears spilled over my temples. I was scared of the pain. But I was far more terrified of having nobody in this world who cared if I hurt. And in that brief moment, because an absolute stranger showed me an ounce of warmth, I foolishly thought my life wasn't entirely hopeless after all.