ManyWriters

My neighbor's child is critically ill, and my mother insists that I donate a kidney.
I have been weak, sickly, and malnourished since I was young - even a simple blood test can take a toll on my health.
My mother's answer was chilling: 'Why should I care about your life or death? Savannah is my true daughter!'
Later on, I discovered the truth of the matter. When I was born, my mother exchanged me with our wealthy neighbor's baby girl.
I watched helplessly as my mother signed the surgical consent form.
But that's not enough.
My father tied me to the operating table with a rope, while my brother picked up the surgical knife himself.
I couldn't resist and desperately made one final request: to do a DNA test with my mother.
She agreed, perhaps thinking that this was the only way to keep me quiet.
However, after the surgery, I became infected and lost all my memories.
But my dear mother has gone crazy.

The Kidney Swap Conspiracy

"Mom, you've snatched away so much from me already. You're in my debt—this time, you must rescue me!"


The quivering, teary voice demolished what remained of my delusions.


I spun around, shocked, to find Savannah attempting to rise from her wheelchair. She teetered precariously before slumping into my mother's embrace.


It was only then that I truly saw her condition.


Despite her mother's unwavering attention, Savannah's illness had decimated her physique. She appeared weak and shattered.


I recalled her frequent wishes for a typical, healthy existence. Now, with a chance right before her that required no personal cost, it was no wonder she'd grasp it without hesitation.


My sibling, James, approached and tenderly enveloped Savannah, comforting her as if she were the world's most valuable treasure.


"Forgive me, Savannah," he murmured. "All this time, I've been devoting my affection to the wrong person."


"From this moment on, I'll make amends."


My mom was already weeping as she clung to Savannah.


"I'm deeply sorry, my child... I'll ensure your safety, no matter the cost."


I observed as the meager stream of affection I'd battled for over two decades—those fleeting glimpses of hope—now poured uncontrollably towards her.


Abruptly, I sensed a metallic flavor rising in my throat, but I pushed it down.


For most individuals, donating a kidney mightn't be lethal. But for me? A girl my mother never cherished, who grew up undernourished, fragile, and disregarded? My body was already compromised. Losing even a little more blood could endanger me.


I glanced at the trio, embracing like the ideal family. Then, peripherally, I noticed Savannah's mother—Mrs. Whitmore.


She stood apart, detached, observing this bizarre scene as if it were unrelated to her. She shed no tears over her daughter's betrayal. She seemed indifferent to the possibility that I might be her biological child.


I turned to her, shaking, and inquired, "Do you truly not care at all?"


"I could be your actual daughter. Why won't you come to my aid?"


She shrugged. "What if you are my biological child? What does it matter?"


"I've nurtured Savannah for twenty years. She is my daughter. If saving her means sacrificing you, I'm willing to do so."


So that's what maternal love is supposed to resemble.


It appears that love only flows towards those who already possess it. For someone like me—cast aside by the world—I was nothing but disposable.


Yet even the discarded cling to existence.


Summoning every bit of strength I had, I yelled at them, "You can't do this! It's against the law!"


My mom didn't waver. "It's irrelevant. Legally, I'm still your mother. I'll authorize your kidney donation."


Chapter 2