My Son Her Medicine

I was eight months pregnant when my parents, who had always favored my sister, invited me over for dinner. It was the first time in years I had felt a glimmer of their warmth.

That was the night of the fire.

When the smoke detectors shrieked and the flames began to lick at the doorframes, their instincts were instantaneous. They shoved me aside, my swollen belly a clumsy obstacle, and grabbed my sister, Chloe—the one with leukemia, the one who had always been the sun in their universe. They carried her out into the night, leaving me behind in the suffocating heat.

I was sure I was going to die. But then my husband, Ethan, burst through the wall of smoke. He swept me into his arms without a moment's hesitation, his body shielding mine as he carried me to safety. The burns blistering his own skin didn't seem to register. His eyes, full of a desperate tenderness I’d craved my whole life, were only for me.

“Ava, you’re pregnant,” he’d whispered, his voice hoarse from the smoke as paramedics worked on us. “If anything happened to the baby… to you… I don’t know what I’d do.”

In that moment, I believed I had finally found the one person who would choose me. Who truly loved me.

That belief shattered when I saw the text exchange between him and Chloe on his unlocked phone.

Chloe: I can’t wait much longer, E.

Ethan: Just hold on, my love. A little more time. Once she has the baby and we get the cord blood, I can finally save you.

My world tilted on its axis. The air left my lungs. Without a second thought, I pulled out my own phone, my fingers numb as I dialed the number for the women’s clinic.

“Hello,” I said, my voice a dead, hollow thing. “I need to schedule an abortion.”

1

I had just tucked the clinic’s appointment confirmation slip into my purse when I saw them. Ethan was walking down the hospital corridor toward me, his arm wrapped protectively around my sister, Chloe, guiding her toward the oncology wing for a check-up.

He stopped short when he saw me. “Ava? Honey, what are you doing here? I thought your next prenatal wasn’t until next week.”

Ethan’s gaze dropped instantly to my stomach, his face a mask of anxiety. I used to mistake that frantic energy for love, for a fierce, protective instinct. Now I saw it for what it was: a man checking on his investment.

“I just felt a little off,” I lied smoothly. “Decided to come get it checked out.”

His panic sharpened. “Off how? What’s wrong? What did the doctor say? Is the baby okay? Did you get the results yet?”

He rushed to my side, his hand hovering over my belly, his eyes wide with a carefully crafted concern.

Chloe, however, couldn’t be bothered with the performance. She shot me a glare filled with pure contempt. “Can’t you do one thing right? Honestly, what’s the point of you if you can’t even carry a baby properly? If anything happens to what’s in there, I swear to God, Ava, I’ll make you pay.”

I ignored her, pulling the ultrasound printout from my bag and handing it to Ethan. “Everything’s fine. The baby is perfectly healthy.”

The relief that washed over his face was profound. He finally exhaled. “Oh, thank God. Okay, good. You should go home and rest, then. Chloe still has a few more tests, so I’ll stay with her and be back later.”

His other hand, the one not reaching for me, had never once left Chloe’s arm.

I used to explain away his constant, hovering attention on my sister as a kind of misguided brotherly affection, an extension of his love for me. Love the house, love the mouse. How naive I’d been. I never imagined their plan was this monstrous.

As they walked away, a cold impulse took over. I followed them.

I watched them disappear into the office of the Head of Hematology—an office that belonged to my father.

“We can’t wait any longer,” Ethan’s voice was tight with urgency, even muffled through the door. “Chloe’s getting worse.”

“Just a little more time,” my father’s voice rumbled. “Two months at most. Once Ava gives birth, we’ll have the cord blood, and Chloe will be saved.”

“She might not have a month! We have to do the surgery now.”

“Then we induce her now,” a new voice said, sharp and decisive. A figure stepped out from a corner of the office, and my blood ran cold.

It was my mother, an OB/GYN at this very hospital.

A thousand tiny blades seemed to plunge into my chest, stealing my breath. They were all in on it. All of them. And I had foolishly, desperately believed that my pregnancy had finally earned me a place in my parents’ hearts.

“But the baby’s only at eight months,” Ethan said, a flicker of something—hesitation? concern?—in his voice. “If we take it out now, will it be… okay?”

My mother’s face, visible through the crack in the door, was a granite slab of impatience. “Chloe’s life is the only thing that matters right now. Everything else is secondary.”

I stared at the woman who had carried me for nine months, and my heart felt like it was being torn in two.

Chloe leaned into Ethan’s embrace, her voice a sickly sweet murmur. “Ethan, honey, you seem so worried about her baby. You’re not getting attached to her, are you?”

He immediately pulled her tighter, his voice dropping to a fierce whisper I could still just barely hear. “Never. Don’t ever think that. I only married her to get you this cure. To use her body to grow the medicine you need. The second that baby is out of her, she’s worthless to me.”

Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. My hand was clenched so tightly around the small packet of pills the clinic had given me that my knuckles were white.

I lifted my head, my resolve hardening into something cold and sharp. Without another thought, I tossed the pill into my mouth and swallowed it dry.

Back home, I took out the divorce papers Ethan had signed as a "show of faith" before our wedding—a document I'd never intended to use. I signed my name, dated it, and locked it in the safe.

I had just started to pack a bag when the front door flew open with such force it slammed against the wall. I flinched, my heart seizing in my chest.

Ethan strode in, his face grim. He grabbed my arm, his grip like a vise. “Ava. The doctor just called me. They reviewed your chart again. The baby’s in distress. We have to go back to the hospital. Now.”

I tried to pull my arm away, but his fingers dug in, bruising the bone. My wrist was already turning red. “No. The doctor told me, to my face, that the baby was fine. And why would they call you instead of me?”

His eyes were bloodshot, a wild desperation lurking in their depths. “It was a last-minute consult! Your mother called me herself. You don’t trust me, fine. But you trust your own mother, don’t you?”

On cue, my parents walked through the open door. My mother’s face was a cold mask of disapproval. “This is your own fault for not being careful enough. You’ve upset the baby’s balance. We’re going to the hospital.”

My father chimed in, his voice oozing false reason. “Your mother is a respected obstetrician, Ava. Are you really going to question her medical opinion?”

My free hand shot out, gripping the bedroom doorknob like a lifeline. “I’m not going. It’s late. We can go tomorrow. I feel fine. Nothing is wrong.”

My mother’s face twisted in fury. She marched over and began prying my fingers from the knob, one by one. “You’ll do as you’re told! Why must you be so difficult? I’m your mother! Do you think I would ever hurt you?”

Yes, I screamed in my head. You have my whole life. They had shipped me off to live with my grandparents in the countryside as a baby, only deigning to bring me into their home after my grandparents passed away and the village council forced their hand. I’d spent my entire life wondering what was so wrong with me that my own parents couldn't love me.

I held on with every ounce of strength I had. My mother couldn’t break my grip.

CRACK.

The sound of her palm connecting with my cheek echoed in the room. “You are going to the hospital right now,” she hissed, her face inches from mine. “If you delay this and Chloe doesn’t make it, I will never, ever forgive you.”

Half of my face was numb, the other half blazing with pain. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “There it is. The truth finally comes out.”

She didn’t even flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only know that your body is no longer a viable environment for this pregnancy. It’s a happy coincidence that your sister needs the cord blood right now.”

My father, seeing I still wouldn’t budge, joined the effort. “Ava, you were always the sensible one. Your sister needs you. Please, just do this for us. For your mother and me.”

He was trying to play the family card. I turned my head and spat on the floor by his feet. “Stop pretending. Her life is a life, but mine isn’t? Forcing a C-section at eight months is dangerous. I could die.”

Seeing his emotional appeal fail, my father’s face contorted with rage. He slapped my other cheek, just as hard. “You ungrateful brat! That’s your sister! Sacrificing one baby to save her is a noble thing to do. It’s not like you can’t have another one.”

Ethan dropped all pretense. He lunged forward, his hand clamping around my throat. “Enough of this. Chloe collapsed this afternoon. She’s waiting for this cord blood to save her life. You’re going to that hospital, one way or another.”

“Ethan, it’s your baby!” I choked out, clawing at his hand.

His eyes were chips of ice. “If my offspring can save Chloe, then that is its honor. Its sole purpose for existing. Otherwise, a woman like you would never have been worthy of carrying my child in the first place.”

Staring into his cold, dead eyes was like falling into an abyss.

“Dad, Mom, let’s stop wasting time,” Ethan said, his voice flat. “Chloe can’t wait. Let’s just tie her up and take her.”

He found a length of rope in a utility closet. With my parents holding me down, he bound my hands tightly behind my back.

“Move,” my mother snarled, shoving me toward the door. I dug my heels in, hooking my foot around the doorframe.

Ethan let out a roar of frustration and kicked my leg, hard. “If we’re too late because of you, Ava, I will personally see to it that you pay with your life.”

The force of the kick sent me sprawling to my knees. A searing pain shot up my leg, and a vicious cramp seized my abdomen. I cried out, tears of pain blurring my vision.

“Be careful!” my mother snapped at Ethan. “Watch the belly! Hit her face, I don’t care, but you can’t damage the merchandise.”

Ethan nodded grimly. He and my father hauled me to my feet like a sack of grain and began dragging me toward the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open. A tall, well-built man was stepping out. I knew him. Officer Miller, from next door. He’d helped me once when my car was broken into.

Hope, bright and blinding, flared in my chest.

“Help—”

Before I could get the word out, my mother’s hand clamped over my mouth. “Oh, sweetie, feeling nauseous again? Don’t worry, Mommy’s taking you to the hospital right now.”

Officer Miller looked at the scene, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Is everything alright here?”

“My wife,” Ethan said, his voice impossibly calm. “She’s not feeling well. We think she might be going into labor, so we’re rushing her to the hospital.”

My hands were bound behind me, Ethan’s grip a crushing pressure on my wrist to keep me still. I could do nothing but stare at Officer Miller, pouring every ounce of my desperation into my eyes.

“I’m an OB/GYN,” my mother added, pulling her hospital ID from her purse with a practiced motion. “It’s my daughter. She’s about to give birth. We can’t waste a single second.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping back immediately. “Don’t let me keep you. Go, go.”

He held the door for them. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.

They bundled me into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, I watched Officer Miller’s back recede down the hallway, and the fragile hope in my heart turned to ash.

The moment the doors closed, my mother dug her nails into my arm. “You little bitch. You almost blew it with that cop. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re trying to murder your own sister. How can you be so evil?”

The pain was excruciating, and fresh tears streamed down my face.

Just then, my father’s phone rang. “Dr. Sterling? It’s the hospital. Your daughter Chloe has a sudden high fever and isn’t responding to treatment. You need to come back immediately.”

He hung up, his face grim as he stared at my stomach. “We’re out of time. The second we get to the hospital, we’re taking her straight to the OR.”

The elevator doors opened. Ethan and my father started to drag me out.

“Hold it.”

A voice. Footsteps, quick and urgent. I twisted my head and saw Officer Miller standing right behind us, his expression serious.

That extinguished ember of hope sparked back to life.

“You dropped this,” he said, jogging up to us. He handed my mother my ID card, which must have fallen from her purse.

“Oh, thank you so much, Officer,” she gushed.

I strained against my bonds, trying to make a sound, anything.

“Offi—”

As Miller turned to leave again, I gasped out the word, but Ethan’s hand immediately clamped over my mouth, muffling the sound.

“Just breathe, honey, we’re almost there,” he said loudly, for the officer’s benefit.

Then he was dragging me toward the car.

The second I was thrown into the back seat, my mother’s hand was on me again, pinching and twisting the flesh of my arm. “You try one more thing, I swear to God, you will regret it.”

Ethan drove like a madman, blowing through three red lights to get to the hospital.

They didn’t even bother with admitting. I was dragged through back corridors directly into an operating room. The sterile chill of the room, the gleam of cold steel, sent a fresh wave of terror through me. I tried to scramble away, to run, but my mother was already there, plunging a syringe into my arm. A sedative.

“We’re just taking a baby out, Ava,” she said, her voice laced with a chillingly casual cruelty. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a scene. We’re family. And you’re saving your sister.”

The drug began to work, a strange lightness spreading through my limbs, but she must have used a low dose, afraid of harming the baby. My mind remained terrifyingly clear.

“Strap her to the table,” she commanded. “I’ll perform the surgery myself.”

Ethan and my father hoisted me onto the operating table.

“This is illegal!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the cold, tiled room. “You can’t do this!”

My mother just scoffed. “You’re my daughter. What’s illegal about me operating on you? I gave you your life, I can do with it as I please.”

My father glared at me. “You’re a monster. We raised you, and now, when we ask you to do one small thing to save your sister, you talk to us about the law?”

Ethan tightened the strap on my wrist, cinching it so hard I felt the buckle dig into my flesh. “Hurry up and sign the consent form, Ethan,” my mother said, thrusting a clipboard at him. “I need to begin.”

He scribbled his name without even glancing at the page.

I looked at the faces of the people I had once called my family, and my heart felt like it had been frozen solid.

“Ethan, you might want to step outside,” my mother said, picking up a scalpel. “This could get messy.”

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on my stomach. “No. I need to be here. I need to see the medicine for Chloe come out with my own eyes.”

His words were needles, piercing my heart one by one. To him, my child and I were not human. We were a pharmaceutical.

There was no anesthesiologist. It was a rogue, illegal surgery.

My mother pressed the blade against my skin and cut.

It was a pain beyond anything I could have imagined, a white-hot agony that felt like my bones were being shattered from the inside out. I could feel every layer of my body being sliced open, peeled back.

My screams tore through the room, raw and unending, but no one wiped the sweat from my brow. No one flinched.

No one even looked at my face.

“You will all pay for this,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

Ethan started to retort, but was cut off by a triumphant shout from my mother.

“I’ve got it! The baby is out!”

But her joy lasted only a second, replaced by a sound of pure horror.

“The baby… why isn’t it breathing? It’s not breathing.”

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