My Final Gift Was My Life

My soul floated, light as a dandelion seed, looking down at the girl collapsed on the cold, linoleum floor.

Mom, Im sorry. I really wasn't lying this time. I just couldn't hold on anymore.

Despite knowing I suffered from severe chronic anemia, my mother had insisted I participate in the universitys campus-wide blood drive. She didn't want the "optics" of her own daughter sitting out while she, the Dean of Students, presided over the event. She called it "leading by example."

At the 100-milliliter mark, the world began to tilt. My vision went grainy, like an old television losing its signal. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trying to escape a cage.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as I tried to steady the tube, trying to tell the nurse I needed to stop. But she just clamped her hand over my wrist, pinning me down.

Stacy, the phlebotomist, shot me a look of pure, unadulterated annoyance. She looked at my ghost-white face and scoffed. "Only a hundred mils and youre already trying to tap out? Everyone else is doing the full four hundred. Don't be a drama queen."

She leaned in closer, her voice a sharp whisper. "This is a charity drive, honey. Trying to fake a faint to get out of it is just selfish. Honestly, people like you should be forced to give double just for the attitude."

My mother stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, her eyes like chips of flint. She didn't offer a hand or a kind word. She just looked disappointed.

"Zoey, is this how I raised you?" she asked, her voice echoing in the sterile room. "Everyone else is doing their part. You don't get to be the exception just because youre mine."

Then came the words that felt like a death sentence: "You stay in that chair until you hit four hundred, Zoey. Even if it kills you, you are finishing what you started."

I gasped for air, but my lungs felt like they were filled with cotton. When the third bag began to fill, the light finally went out. My body felt heavy, like lead, and I felt myself slip away as I hit the floor.

A suffocating darkness grabbed me, and thennothing. My physical body slumped over the donation table, the sudden movement jerking the needle. Blood began to backflow into the tube, a dark, rhythmic pulse.

Stacy shoved my shoulder, her patience clearly gone. She ripped the needle out with a sharp, careless tug.

"Im trying to work here! Can you stop moving for five seconds? Now I have to re-stick you."

When I didn't answer, she let out a huff of disgust. She grabbed my arm and drove the needle back in, hard.

"Oops. Missed the vein. You won't mind, right?"

She did it again. And again. She dug the needle in with a sickening deliberate-ness until my inner elbow was a mess of bruised, purple skin. But I couldn't feel the sting anymore.

"Fine, play the silent treatment," Stacy muttered, swapping the bags without looking up. "Zero school spirit. Everyone else is doing their part, and youre here acting like its a Greek tragedy. Its just blood, Zoey. Youre so entitled."

She glanced toward my mother. "I don't know how Dean Mercer ended up with such a spineless, selfish daughter."

The students in line behind me started to whisper.

"I heard shes actually sick, like, really anemic," one girl murmured. "What if shes actually hurt?"

"Please," another boy replied, rolling his eyes. "The nurse said shes faking. And look at Dean Mercer. Shes totally calm. If something was actually wrong, her own mom wouldn't just be standing there, right?"

I hovered above them, desperate, looking at my mother. Her brow was furrowed, her lips thinned into a line of pure resentment.

"Zoey! Get up this instant! Youre making a scene in front of the entire department!"

I didn't move. I couldn't.

Stacy paused, her hand resting on my limp arm. She looked up at my mother and sighed. "Dean, shes really committed to this act. Should I even bother continuing? She only hit the hundred-mark. Everyone else did the full draw, but shes just... being difficult."

Stacy leaned in as if sharing a secret. "Actually, she just threatened me. She told me that because shes the Deans daughter, I should just credit her for a full bag and let her go, or shed have me fired. Maybe we should just let her go before she causes more trouble."

I tried to scream, to tell the truth, but I had no voice.

My mothers face darkened. A flash of pure rage crossed her features. She walked over and kicked mehardright in the small of my back.

Because my body was already a dead weight, the force sent me sliding off the chair and onto the floor.

"You are a disgrace," she hissed. "When did you become so manipulative? I honestly don't know who you are anymore."

I lay there, a discarded doll on the tiles. My mother was shaking, her heels clicking as she stepped closer and pressed the toe of her shoe down on my wrist.

"Is this fun for you, Zoey? Making me look like a fool in front of my colleagues? Do you think being my daughter means you get to hold everyone hostage with your tantrums?"

She leaned down, her voice a cold, jagged blade. "The biggest mistake I ever made was fighting so hard to bring you into this world."

A few students behind us gasped. Stacy covered her mouth, but her eyes were dancing with a cruel sort of glee.

My heartthe ghost of itached. I remembered the stories. My mother had gone through three rounds of IVF to have me. Id seen the faint, faded marks on her skin from the hundreds of injections. I knew she had bled for me, cried for me, suffered for me.

And I remembered being a child. I was born premature, the anemia a lingering shadow from my first breath. My mother used to stay up all night when I was sick, her notebooks filled with meal plans and massage techniques to keep me healthy. She used to be my protector.

But everything changed when she became Dean.

On my first day of college, she sat me down for a "professional" talk. We have to maintain boundaries, she had said. No special treatment. No favoritism.

To "maintain boundaries," she gave my merit scholarship to the runner-up. "If you take it, people will say I rigged it for you," she explained. "You have to understand, Zoey."

To "maintain boundaries," she gave my spot in the prestigious state internship to a student from a "troubled background." "I have eyes on me, Zoey. I have to be seen as fair."

I understood. I swallowed the unfairness every single time. I did it for her.

But this time, to prove her "fairness," she had forced me into this room. "Because you're my daughter, you should be the first one in line. If you don't do it, how can I ask anyone else?"

And now, she was telling me she regretted my existence.

I looked down at my body. My arms were a map of bruises and needle holes. I wasn't faking. I was gone.

Stacy grabbed my arm, pretending to pull me up, but her grip was loose and mocking. "Come on, Zoey. Just two hundred more mils and were done."

She "slipped." She stumbled back, letting out a small shriek as she fell to the floor. The blood bag she was holding flew out of her hand, hitting the floor and bursting.

Deep, crimson blood splattered everywhere.

My body was jerked upward for a second before slamming back down into the puddle of my own blood. My white shirt soaked it up instantly.

Stacy bit her lip, her eyes suddenly brimming with fake tears. "Zoey! Why would you do that? I was just trying to help you up, and you pushed me!"

She looked at my mother, her voice trembling. "She just threw the blood. All that work... wasted. Dean Mercer, Im so sorry. I know how much you care about this drive."

Stacy started to sob, the picture of a victimized worker. "Im so jealous of her, you know? She has a mother like you, she gets to go to this great school, and Im just a nurse working double shifts. And she treats me like garbage."

I stood there, invisible, watching the absurdity. A dead girl can't push anyone, Stacy.

But my mother believed her. She walked over and pulled Stacy into a hug, rubbing her back. "Its okay. Don't cry. I won't let her bully you anymore."

I felt a coldness that had nothing to do with death.

My mother looked at my body on the floor with utter loathing. "Since shes so determined to 'play dead' to get out of this, Im not lifting a finger to help her."

She looked at Stacy. "Take the blood she wasted out of her other arm. Draw it all. I want to see exactly how long she can keep up this little performance."

The students in line started chiming in.

"Shes totally faking. I can't believe Dean Mercer has to deal with this."

"So entitled. She thinks shes royalty just because of her mom."

"Shes literally wasting everyones time. Just pull the blood and move on."

Then, the University President walked into the room, alerted by the commotion. He saw me on the floor, surrounded by red, and his face went pale.

"Dean Mercer, what happened? Do we need an ambulance?"

My mother turned, a weary, practiced sigh escaping her lips. "Mr. President, please excuse my daughter. Shes having a bit of a tantrum because she didn't want to donate. The blood on the floor? She threw it to get back at me."

She looked back at me with a hard, unforgiving glare. "Don't worry about her. The more attention we give her, the worse she gets. She needs to learn that she can't always get her way."

The President hesitated, looking at me with concern. "Dean, blood donation is voluntary. If shes really this resistant, maybe we should just let it go."

He shook his head and walked away to attend to other donors.

My mothers anger only intensified. "Still not moving? Fine. You can stay right there on the floor while they finish."

She looked at Stacy. "Finish the draw while shes down there. When youre done, leave her. If she wants to lay in the dirt, let her. Don't let her hold up the line."

Without another glance, my mother walked out of the room.

Stacy grabbed a fresh needle. She didn't look for a vein this time; she just jammed it in. She drew the full four hundred millilitersand then some.

When she was finished, she kicked my leg. "Okay, the show's over. Your moms gone. You can stop acting now."

When I didn't move, Stacy rolled her eyes. She looked at the guys waiting in line. "Hey, can a couple of you carry this 'princess' outside? Shes taking up space."

I watched from above as two boys hauled my limp body out like a bag of trash and dumped it on the sidewalk under the blistering afternoon sun.

Two hours passed. The drive ended.

A few students walked by, glancing at me. One girl paused, biting her lip. "Is she okay? Shes been out here in the sun for a long time. She looks... blue."

Stacy, who was packing up her gear, walked by and snorted. "Don't bother. Shes just trying to get someone to pity her so they'll go tell her mom. Its a total scam. Trust me, Ive seen girls like her a million times."

Another student joined in. "Yeah, shes the Deans daughter. Shes just a brat. Shes probably waiting for a camera crew."

The girl who had been worried looked embarrassed and quickly walked away.

Stacy smirked, feeling triumphant, and headed toward my mothers office to finish the paperwork.

"Dean Mercer, here are the final logs. Everythings accounted for. If you could just sign off..."

My mother glanced at the log. When she saw my name next to the "400ml" mark, her expression softened slightly. "Where is she? I told her she was supposed to stay and help you volunteer as part of her 'community service' for the attitude she gave me."

Stacy lowered her head, looking hesitant. "Well... I tried to get her up, but she said she wouldn't move unless you personally came out and apologized to her. Shes still lying on the sidewalk."

My mothers face turned a violent shade of red.

"Dean, shes been out there a while," Stacy added, her voice sugary and manipulative. "Maybe you should just go give her a little hug? Just to get her to stop embarrassing the school?"

My mother slammed her hand on the desk. "I have spent my life indulging her! No more. If she wants to be stubborn, she can stay on that pavement until she rots."

The sun climbed higher. The campus emptied as students retreated to air-conditioned dorms.

My body began to change. The heat was unforgiving. A few stray cats, drawn by the metallic scent of the blood on my clothes, began to circle.

It was a special kind of hell, watching them.

My spirit drifted back to my mothers office. She and Stacy were laughing now. Stacy was flipping through the old notebook my mother used to keepthe one with the recipes for my anemia.

"Wow, Dean Mercer, you really did all this for her?" Stacy asked, her voice dripping with fake admiration. "Every meal, every vitamin... you must have spent years on this."

I saw my mothers eyes flicker. For a second, she looked at the yellowed pages with a flash of genuine memory. A shadow of the mother she used to be crossed her face.

She sighed, reaching out to pat Stacys hair. "If only she were half as appreciative and sensible as you are, Stacy."

Just then, the President knocked and hurried in. "Dean, is your daughter still outside? Its ninety-five degrees out there. If she has a health condition, heatstroke is a real risk."

My mothers hand froze for a second before she waved it off. "Shes fine. Shes too vain to let herself get a tan, let alone heatstroke. Shes just waiting for me to break. My daughter is a master of the long game, Mr. President. When she gets bored, shell come crawling back."

The President sighed and left, looking unsettled.

A few minutes later, there was another knock. My mother straightened her posture, a look of "I told you so" blooming on her face. She thought it was me.

But it was a group of students. They were there to pick up their certificates for the Deans List and the state competition awards.

My mother forced a smile and handed them out. "Congratulations. You all worked very hard."

The students looked at each other, then at her. "Actually, Dean... we wanted to say thank you. We know Zoey stepped down so we could have these spots. We heard she did it to help the 'schools image.'"

The smile on my mothers face died.

I watched the realization hit her like a physical blow. She had told everyone I was "disqualified" or "lazy." She hadn't realized the students knew the truththat she had forced me to give up my hard-earned honors to prove she wasn't playing favorites.

She looked like shed swallowed glass. "She didn't 'step down.' She was caught cheating on the preliminary exam. You earned these. She didn't."

The students looked uncomfortable and hurried out of the office.

My mothers heart was racing now. She was humiliated.

The door knocked again. Stacy smirked. "Thats definitely her this time, Dean. Ready to beg."

My mother cleared her throat, assuming her most authoritative tone. "Come in, Zoey! I hope youve enjoyed your little nap on the sidewalk."

She didn't wait for the person to enter. "If youre here to apologize, don't bother unless youre ready to publicly apologize to Nurse Stacy tomorrow morning. And I want a five-thousand-word essay on 'Accountability' posted on the student portal by midnight, or don't bother coming home!"

The knocking became frantic.

My mother stormed over and ripped the door open.

She froze.

Two police officers stood there, their faces grim and heavy.

"Are you the mother of Zoey Mercer?"

My mother blinked, her annoyance still simmering. "Yes. What did she do now? Did someone report her for loitering on the sidewalk? Ive already told her to get up."

The lead officer didn't answer. He looked at her with a profound, terrifying pity.

"Ma'am, I need you to brace yourself. Your daughter, Zoey, has passed away."