Chapter 1 I have a secret. Every birthday, I get dragged to the blood donation center to give 400cc of my blood. All because Mom told me I carry a rapist's blood in my veins. This is the only way to wash away my original sin. Because of those words, here I am at eighteen-barely weighing 80 pounds-lying on that damn donation chair again. But the second I walked out of that room, papers slammed into my face. I looked up, stunned, meeting Mom's ice-cold stare. "Sign it. Then get the hell out of this house." Disownment papers. I stood there frozen, chills running through every inch of my body. Mom, didn't you promise that after eighteen donations, I'd finally be your clean child? I stared up at Mom, meeting that cold, empty expression. All I could see was eighteen years of pure disgust burning in her eyes. I gripped my shirt hem, my voice barely a whisper. 'Mom, you said after eighteen times... I'd be clean, didn't you? Why don't you want me anymore?" That question set her off like a match to gasoline. 'Clean? What gives you the right to be clean!" She lunged forward, her nails digging into my forehead. Those eyes! You have his goddamn eyes! Every time you look at me, it's like you're throwing that night back in my face- how dirty, how disgusting it was! Why won't you just die! Why?!" Before I could dodge, she shoved me hard. I stumbled backward. My back slammed against the wall with a sickening thud. The pain was so intense I couldn't even scream. Right on cue, my sister Lily rushed forward, tears streaming as she wrapped her arms around Mom's shaking form. She whipped around to face me, her voice sharp with accusation: "Emma! You're so damn selfish! You know you're nothing but a walking reminder of trauma, and you still push her buttons like this. Are you trying to kill her?" 14:30 400cc of Blood, 18 Years of Hate... All for the WRONG Daughter! 0.0% Chapter 1 A walking reminder? I stood there, stunned. Fragments of family history started piecing themselves together bits and pieces the adults had let slip over the years. Before I was born, Mom and Dad were the perfect couple, about to walk down the aisle. But the night before their wedding, Mom's world shattered. Some drunk stranger dragged her into an alley. When they found her, she was barely breathing, covered in bruises and worse. That night sent Mom spiraling into the deepest, darkest hole. Dad tried everything to pull her out therapy, travel, you name it. Slowly, painfully, he helped her piece herself back together enough to have their wedding. Then Mom got pregnant. Should've been the happiest news ever, except the ultrasound showed twins. The doctor delivered the devastating blow: based on timing, one baby wasn't Dad's. Most likely belonged to her attacker. But with twins, terminating the pregnancy would've put Mom's life at risk. She had to carry us both. From that moment, I became this family's permanent shame. My very existence was a constant, living reminder that the worst night of their lives actually happened. Every night since I could remember, I'd hear Mom next door, humming gentle lullabies to Lily. Meanwhile, I'd curl up alone on my cold metal cot, hugging myself tight. Trying to copy Mom's soothing touches, patting my own back, whispering myself to sleep. always knew Mom hated me, but only now did I understand the real reason why. So it all comes down to these eyes, huh? Watching Mom's agonized screams and struggles, something cracked open in my chest. Cold and empty. Sign it! Sign it right now!" 14:31 400cc of Blood 10 Years of Mato All for the WRONG Daughter!