I Am My Sister's Medicine

The rain lashes against the windowpane.
I cower in the darkness, listening to the coughs emanating from the adjacent room.
That is Elder Sister; her illness has returned.
Mother passes my room with hushed steps, pausing only at Elder Sister's door.
I held my breath, yearning to hear if Mother would say anything.
"Be good, you'll have another check-up tomorrow and get better." Mother's voice was so gentle.
I gripped the quilt, my fingernails digging into my palm.
Why is it that Mother's tenderness is never for me?
The following morning, sunlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains.
I rose early, intending to help Mother prepare breakfast.
I had barely entered the kitchen when I overheard Mother and Father speaking.
"The doctor said that only umbilical cord blood can save Nina." Mother's voice was thick with suppressed sobs.
Father sighed: "Then... we have no choice but to use another child."
My heart plummeted, and the bowl in my hand nearly slipped from my grasp.
Thus, the sole purpose of my existence in this world was to save Elder Sister.
From that day forward, Mother began taking me to the Hospital with increasing frequency.
Blood Draws, tests... the frigid needle pierced my arm, and I gritted my teeth to stifle my cries.
Mother stood beside me, her gaze fixed solely on the test results, never once looking at me.
"Fortunately, the tissue matching was successful." Mother exhaled with relief, her voice laced with gratitude.
I lowered my gaze to the pinpricks marring my arm, and a profound chill settled over me.
The bus swayed and shuddered on the journey home.
Leaning against the window, I watched the blurred silhouettes of trees flicker past.
Mother sat beside me, yet her attention was consumed by messages to Father, detailing every morsel Nina had consumed that day.
I drew my arm further into my sleeve, a dull ache persisting at the injection site.
No one inquired as to whether I suffered.
Night came, and I lay sleepless in bed.
Elder Sister's room is still illuminated; Mother is regaling her with a story.
I crept silently to the door and peered through the narrow opening.
Elder Sister reclined in Mother's embrace, her laughter ringing with joy.
Mother gently stroked Elder Sister's hair, her gaze overflowing with an affection I could never hope to receive.
A sharp ache rose in my chest; I fled to my room, burying myself beneath the covers, tears streaming down my face.
Amidst my weeping, my hand encountered the diary beneath my pillow.
Father had secretly purchased it for me, saying, "Nancy, should sorrows burden your heart, commit them to paper."
I opened my notebook, the pencil point hovering hesitantly, and could only bring myself to write a single line: "Mother's love is Elder Sister's exclusive privilege."
With each passing day, my body grew ever weaker.
Each time blood was drawn, I felt dizzy and faint, lacking even the strength to walk.
But Mother never inquired if I was in pain, merely urged me to eat more and restore my strength.
"You must recover quickly, Nina is waiting for you." Mother invariably said this.
I nodded, suppressing the 'I hurt' that had risen to my lips.
Once, I arrived home from school, only to be pulled to the Hospital by Mother before I could even set down my backpack.
"The doctor said today they need to draw more blood; Nina's condition has worsened lately." Mother's voice was fraught with urgency.
I followed her, each step heavier than the last.

At the Hospital, as the nurse tightened the tourniquet and the needle pierced my skin, my vision swam, and I nearly collapsed.
The nurse quickly supported me: "The child looks pale; let her rest before drawing blood."
Mother dismissed it from the side: "It's nothing. Draw it; Nina is waiting."
Gazing upon Mother's profile, I was struck by a sudden, profound sense of estrangement.
On one occasion, the school organized a spring field trip.
I related to Mother, with nascent excitement, my desire to accompany my classmates.
Mother frowned, dismissing the notion without a moment's consideration: "Impossible. If you have a cold, you won’t be able to donate blood for Nina."
I gripped the hem of my garment, tears gathering in my eyes.
"But Mother," I pleaded, my voice barely audible, "I want to participate in the field trip..."
Mother waved a dismissive hand, her impatience palpable: "Do not be absurd; Nina's health is of prior importance."
I turned and fled to my room, crushing the spring outing invitation into a ball and discarding it in the wastebasket.
That night, I lay prone on my desk, fixated on the spring outing photographs my classmates had shared.
Within those images, everyone was aloft with kites on the verdant lawn, consuming refreshments, their laughter ringing with joy.
I traced the screen with my fingertip, tears blurring the icy glass.
At that moment, the door was gently eased open.
It was Nina, bearing a glass of Milk.
"Sister, I am sorry." Nina's voice was a mere whisper, heavy with remorse.
I hastily wiped away my tears and turned around: "It is none of your concern."
Nina placed the Milk on my desk: "I know Mother is not kind to you, but I... I did not want to be sick either."
Gazing at her pallid face, the resentment in my heart suddenly abated, if only slightly.
"I know." I picked up the Milk and took a sip; it was warm to the touch.
That night, I succumbed to a high fever.
Lost in a haze, I felt a hand upon my brow.
I presumed it was Mother, and with effort, opened my eyes, only to find Father.
"Father..." I whispered weakly.
Father sighed and tucked the covers around me: "Do not worry, daughter, I shall remain by your side."
I closed my eyes, and tears traced a path down my temples.
Why could Mother not extend to me such solicitude, even once?
In the dead of night, parched with thirst, I yearned to call for Father, yet sounds emanated from the drawing-room.
Silently, I slipped from the bed and crept to the threshold.
Mother wept, confessing to Father: "Had I but offered Nancy more consideration, she would not have fallen ill."
Father patted her back: "It isn't too late to realize it now; be kinder to Nancy in the future."
I stood there, dumbfounded, a flicker of warmth warring with disbelief in my heart.
The following day, my fever subsided.
Mother entered my room, her first words being: "It's fortunate your fever has ended; you have to donate blood at the Hospital tomorrow."
I gazed at Mother, my heart aching as though pierced by needles.
"Mother, when I was feverish yesterday, why did you not come to see me?" I summoned the courage to inquire.
Mother hesitated a moment, then stated: "I must attend to Nina; she is in greater need of care than you."
I lowered my head and said nothing further.

That afternoon, Mother went to the Convenience Store to purchase some items.
The madam at the Convenience Store, who had watched me grow up, asked Mother: "Why has Nancy lost so much weight recently? The last time she visited the store, her complexion was dreadful, and she expressed a desire not to return home."
Mother's body stiffened.
The madam continued, "The child is suffering. Do not focus solely on Nina; extend some consideration to Nancy as well."
Mother remained silent, purchased her items, and departed.
Upon returning home, she carried a bag of Strawberries, a treat I purportedly adore.
"Nancy, I bought this for you." Mother placed the Strawberry before me, her tone strained.
I raised my head, looked at her, and slowly picked up a Strawberry.
Sweetness, a taste long forgotten.
With each passing day, the thought of home became more unbearable.
After school, I would linger outside for an eternity before returning home.
Once, I encountered an old lady in the park.
Seeing my desolate figure, the old lady offered me a piece of candy.
"Child, why are you here all alone?" The old lady inquired with a weary smile.
I peeled back the wrapper and placed the sweet within my mouth; its taste, though saccharine, offered only a fleeting respite to the bitterness in my heart.
"I do not want to return home." I uttered, barely audible.
The old lady patted my head, her voice laced with concern: "Has someone in your household been mistreating you, child?"
I shook my head, yet tears betrayed my silent denial, streaming down my face once more.
Thereafter, I frequented the park, seeking solace in the old lady's presence.
She would recount tales of her youth, confessing that she, too, had once raised two children, perpetually favoring one over the other, until she learned that each child requires an equal measure of affection.
"Your Mother's actions stem not from a lack of love, but from the overwhelming burden of pressing affairs." The old lady said.
I nodded, understanding and yet not understanding.
That evening, I arrived home late.
Mother, upon seeing me, immediately began to berate me: "Where have you been? Did you forget today's follow-up appointment at the Hospital? If Nina's treatment is delayed because of you, can you possibly bear the responsibility?"
I stood at the doorway, trembling.
"I merely wished to be outside for a while..." My voice broke with a sob.
Mother stepped forward and raised her hand to strike me.
Father intervened, stopping her: "Do not do that; she has her own burdens."
Mother shook off Father's hand, stating with rancor, "What hardship does she endure? Were it not for Nina, she would possess nothing of her present life."
I could endure no more, and fled from the house.
The downpour outside saturated my garments.
I drifted listlessly along the street, my heart a cold and throbbing void.
I knew neither my destination, nor a soul who might offer solace.
Abruptly, a Convenience Store presented itself ahead.
I entered, seeking refuge in a secluded corner.
The madam behind the counter, observing my disarray, offered me a cup of hot water.
"Child, what is wrong? Have you quarreled with your family?" The madam inquired softly.
Clutching the mug of hot water, I could not stem the flow of tears.
"Madam, Mother does not love me; her affection is reserved solely for Elder Sister."
The madam sighed, stroking my head. "Every mother loves her child. Perhaps she merely directs her energies towards your ailing Elder Sister, neglecting you in the process."

I shook my head. "No, she has never cared for me. My sole purpose in this world is to save Elder Sister."
The madam paused, then said, "Child, regardless, you must endeavor to love yourself."
I nodded, swallowing the hot water, feeling a modicum of warmth seep in.
Subsequently, Father located me and returned me to that house.
Mother sat upon the sofa, her eyes inflamed with sorrow.
"Nancy, forgive me; I should not have said those bad words to you." Mother's voice possessed a certain rasp.
I remained silent, retreating into my room.
That night, Mother draped a blanket over me.
Her touch was feather-light; I feigned slumber, though my heart roiled with turmoil.
One day, news arrived from the Hospital that Elder Sister's condition had deteriorated, necessitating an immediate bone marrow transplant.
Upon hearing this, Mother was instantly consumed by panic.
She seized my hand, her voice a plea: "Nancy, you must save Nina; she is your Elder Sister."
I regarded Mother's frantic demeanor, yet felt not even the slightest tremor of emotion within me.
"I understand." I stated impassively.
Believing I had acquiesced, Mother embraced me with misplaced joy: "Thank you, Nancy. I will assuredly compensate you in the future."
I gently pushed Mother away, saying nothing.
The day before the Surgery, I lay in the hospital bed.
Father came to see me, bringing my favorite Strawberries.
"Don't be afraid of the Surgery tomorrow; I will be waiting for you outside." Father said.
I picked up a Strawberry and put it in my mouth, but the sweetness did nothing to lift my spirits.
"Father, if the Surgery fails, will you be upset?" I asked.
Father paused, then said, "Don't talk nonsense; the Surgery will certainly be successful."
I nodded, placing the remaining Strawberry into my mouth.
That night, Mother sat beside my bed, recounting tales of my early childhood.
"When you were born, you were so fragile. The doctor warned of your delicate constitution, and I wept daily, cradling you, fearing you wouldn't survive." Mother's voice was a mere whisper.
I was stunned, utterly speechless; such accounts had never reached my ears before.
"Then Nina fell ill, and in my ensuing panic, I neglected you..." Mother confessed, tears streaming down her face.
"Nancy, forgive me. It is not that I do not love you, but that I was profoundly foolish."
Gazing at Mother's tears, the ice within my heart seemed, at long last, to thaw.
"Mother, I never blame you," I uttered.
Mother embraced me, weeping inconsolably.
That night, a disquieting semblance of peace settled upon me.
On the day of the Surgery, I was conveyed into the operating theatre.
The frigid glare of the surgical lamps fell upon my face, and I succumbed to darkness.
I recalled Mother's tears, Father's hollow promises, Nina's look of remorse, the old lady's saccharine offering in the park, and the madam's tepid charity from the Convenience Store.
I know not how much time elapsed, but I overheard the doctor pronounce: "The Surgery was successful."
I released a breath, yet my heart harbored not a trace of joy, only a hollow sense of release.
Upon regaining consciousness, I found myself confined to a hospital room.

Download the SnackShort app, Search 【 998551 】reads the whole book.

My Fiction

App Store

Google Play

SnackShort

App Store

Google Play