Soul for a Parent's Love

When I was six, I found a pawnshop hidden behind my wardrobe.

The shopkeeper promised to grant any wish if I gave him something in return.

I traded my perfect report card for a hug from Mom.

My favorite new dress bought me a bedtime story read by Dad.

Soon, good grades and dresses were not enough.

The shopkeeper began demanding parts of my body instead.

My left eye bought a family dinner.

A pint of blood bought an afternoon of Mom picking me up from school.

A kidney bought one rare night of Dad tucking me in with a whispered, Goodnight, my sweet girl.

On my twelfth birthday, the pawnshop closed forever.

Disappointed, I stepped out and overheard my parents in the hallway.

Yumis body accepted the transplant, Mom sighed. We can finally breathe easy.

Six years of acting just to get her kidney was not easy, Dad admitted.

Do not mention it again. The shop is shut down. We have the cornea and kidney we needed.

Wren is growing up. If we continue, she will figure it out.

My hand drifted to the jagged scar on my side. I froze.

The pawnshop had never been real. It was a cruel game to harvest my body for my sister.

I slipped back inside, closed the door, and whispered one final wish into the dark wardrobe.

Take my soul. In exchange, give me my parents genuine, absolute love.

The moment the words left my lips, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind.

[System activated successfully. The transaction is complete.]

"Wren, why are you just standing there? Come and sit down."

Mom called from the dining room.

I snapped out of my daze, walked over, and pulled out a chair.

In the center of the table sat a massive strawberry cream cake. Bright, glossy strawberries covered the top, filling the room with a rich, sugary scent.

A chocolate plaque read in elegant script: "Happy Rebirth, Yumi!"

Today was my twelfth birthday, but my name was nowhere on that cake.

I stared at it for a moment, then quietly took my seat.

Yumi looked up, her eyes curling into happy crescents. "Wren! Mom said today is a super special day. Do you know what it is?"

I knew. It was the day your body finally accepted my kidney, marking your recovery.

I kept my voice flat. "No. What day is it?"

Yumi tilted her head. "Mom calls it my rebirth day."

"That's right," Mom said, walking over to press a tender kiss onto Yumi's cheek. "It's my sweet girl's rebirth day. My little princess is finally healed."

I said nothing, quietly picking up my bowl of white rice.

Dad brought out the last dish, a perfectly steamed sea bass, and sat down next to Yumi with a wide grin. "Come on, everyone! Our little princess is back. Eat as much as you want today!"

Yumi sat in her wheelchair. Though she was still pale, her eyes shone with life. "Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Mommy."

Mom beamed with affection. She pulled on a plastic glove and began peeling shrimp. She did it meticulously, deveining each one before placing them gently into Yumi's bowl. "You need all the protein you can get, sweetheart. It'll help your incisions heal faster."

I stared at my empty plate, picked up my fork, and reached for the sweet glazed ribs. They were my favorite. This was the dish I had begged for when I traded my left eye for a family dinner at eight years old.

Mom's fork sharply blocked mine.

"Yumi just recovered, and her stomach is still weak," Mom said, her brow furrowing with a cold, non-negotiable authority. "These ribs are soft and easy to digest. Let her have them."

My hand froze in midair.

After a long, suffocating silence, I pulled my hand back and took a bite of plain rice.

Yumi, trying to be sweet, nudged one of her peeled shrimp onto my plate. "You can have this one, Wren."

Mom frowned. Without a word, her fork swiftly swept the shrimp back into Yumi's bowl. "Be good, Yumi. You need to finish your own food."

Yumi pouted but didn't argue.

I picked up a piece of boiled cabbage. It tasted like cardboard. My left eye socket, fitted with a cold glass prosthetic, felt incredibly dry. I blinked hard, but no tears came.

Dad tried to smooth things over, tossing a piece of broccoli onto my plate. "Wren is a big girl. You have to look out for your little sister. Tell you what, next weekend when I'm free, I'll take you out for burgers, just the two of us. How does that sound?"

I chewed the tasteless green and nodded mechanically. I knew he would never be free.

After dinner, the living room felt warm and cozy. Mom cradled Yumi on the plush sofa, opening a beautifully bound book of fairy tales.

"Mom, read me The Little Mermaid," Yumi snuggled closer.

"Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want." Mom's voice was dripping with a gentle warmth I had never felt.

I sat on a small wooden stool in the far corner, watching them in silence.

Suddenly, the lifeless voice chimed in my head.

[Soul extraction progress updated.]

[Remaining soul: 85%.]

[Emotional threshold lowered. Pain perception reduced.]

As the system spoke, the dull ache in my side and the dryness in my fake eye seemed to fade. Even the hollow ache in my chest grew pleasantly numb.

Mom turned a page, her voice soft and melodic. "The Little Mermaid watched the prince marry another, and her heart broke. When the sun rose, she dissolved into sea foam."

Yumi looked up, big tears welling in her eyes. "Mom, she's so sad. Why did she have to die? She traded her voice to the witch, but she got nothing in return."

Mom set the book aside, running her fingers through Yumi's soft hair. "That's why you must remember, Yumi. Never trade what is most precious to you for something as fleeting and worthless as someone else's love."

The next morning, I left for school without breakfast. It wasn't that I wasn't hungry, I just barely had the energy to drag myself out of bed. My head throbbed, and my limbs felt like they were filled with lead.

First period was gym class, starting with a half-mile run. I barely finished the first lap before my vision began to vignette. The world spun violently, and the last thing I heard was the panicked voice of my desk partner, Grace.

"Wren! Wren, what's wrong?"

Then, the darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, the harsh, clinical smell of antiseptic burned my nose. I was lying in a hospital bed, an IV needle taped to the back of my left hand.

Grace was hovering by the bed, on the verge of tears. Beside her stood a doctor in a white lab coat, his nametag reading Dr. Bennett.

"Thank god you're awake, you terrified me!" Grace cried, her eyes red-rimmed.

Dr. Bennett studied my chart, his brow deeply furrowed. "Wren, right?" he asked gently, pulling up a chair.

I gave a weak nod.

"Are you aware of your medical history?" His voice was incredibly grave. "You have severe anemia and malnutrition. But that's not the worst of it."

He pointed to the ultrasound results. "Your right kidney is functioning, but your left kidney is completely gone. And..." He stared at me, his gaze lingering on my face. "When the nurse performed the pupillary light test, she noticed your left eye is an implant."

Grace gasped beside me. "Wren, you're missing a kidney? And your eye?"

I stayed quiet, pulling the thin hospital blanket tighter around myself.

Dr. Bennett lowered his voice, his tone a mix of confusion and quiet fury. "You're only twelve years old. How did you lose your left eye?"

I looked at him, and memories of Christmas Eve when I was eight flooded back. Yumi had been rushed to the emergency room, and my parents didn't come home for three whole days. Terrified and alone, I went behind my wardrobe and traded my left eye to the masked shopkeeper. All I wanted was for them to come home and have Christmas dinner with me.

"I traded it for a family dinner," I replied calmly.

Dr. Bennett froze, entirely lost. "What do you mean by that? And your kidney? Which hospital performed the extraction? Why isn't there any record of your surgery in the state database?"

I thought about the searing pain in my lower back on my twelfth birthday. "Behind my wardrobe."

Dr. Bennett's expression completely shifted, a look of horror washing over his face. He bolted upright, opening his mouth to press further.

The door was slammed open. Mom rushed in, completely out of breath, still holding a fancy boba tea she had bought for Yumi.

"Wren! What on earth is wrong with you? Why did you pass out at school?" The moment she entered, her eyes darted to me with immediate irritation and blame.

Dr. Bennett turned around, his expression dark. "Are you her mother? Do you have any idea what kind of state your daughter's body is in?"

The annoyance on Mom's face vanished instantly, replaced by a smooth, perfectly practiced smile. "Hello, Doctor. Yes, I'm Wren's mother. I'm well aware," she said smoothly, reciting lines she had clearly rehearsed a thousand times. "The poor thing was born with a single kidney. As for her left eye, she had a terrible fall a few years ago. A branch pierced her eye, and we had no choice but to get her a prosthetic."

Dr. Bennett narrowed his eyes, catching the slip-up immediately. "Born with one kidney? If that were true, it would be documented in her pediatric records and the birth registry. Why did my search yield absolutely nothing?"

Mom's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered instantly, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Oh, that was over a decade ago. The paperwork probably got lost in some old clinic database. I'll look for the old records when we get home and send them over to you."

Dr. Bennett clearly didn't buy it, but before he could speak, Mom stepped past him and grabbed my wrist. Her grip was vice-like, bruising my skin and pressing hard against the bone.

She leaned down close to my ear, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper. "Keep your mouth shut. We'll talk when we get home."

She pulled back, instantly donning her sweet, doting mother persona again. "Thank you, Dr. Bennett. And thank you, Grace, for looking after our Wren. She's always causing such a fuss."

Once the IV finished, Mom went to the reception desk to settle the bill. Taking advantage of her brief absence, Dr. Bennett stepped back to my bedside.

He slipped a folded piece of paper beneath my pillow. "My personal number is on there," he murmured, his words rushed and low. "If you ever need help, or if you feel like you are in danger, call me immediately."

I stared at him blankly. Before I could even nod, Mom walked back into the room.

[System Update: Remaining soul at 72%.]

The moment we stepped through the front door, we heard Dad speaking in low, hushed tones out on the balcony. He was trying to keep his voice down, but the words carried clearly to my ears.

"What do you mean Yumi's bone marrow isn't producing blood cells? A bone marrow transplant? And she'll be fully cured after that? Yes, of course. I'll arrange for our oldest to be brought in as soon as possible."

He hung up and spun around, his eyes locking directly onto my hollow, lifeless right eye.

As evening fell, the setting sun painted the living room in a deep, bloody crimson. Mom sat at the dining table, flipping through a worn, brown leather notebook. That notebook was usually locked away in the bottom drawer of the master bedroom. Dad called it "Yumi's Lifeline."

The second she saw me exit my room, she slammed it shut. For once, she actually got up, walking into the kitchen and returning with a steaming bowl of soup.

"Wren, come here and drink this while it's hot," she said with a rare, sweet smile. "I spent the whole afternoon brewing this herbal bone broth. It's packed with nutrients to build up your blood."

I stared at the oily broth. A sudden wave of nausea hit my stomach. "Mom, I don't want it."

Her smile vanished instantly. "What do you mean you don't want it? You literally passed out at school today. The doctor said you're severely anemic! Drink it. Every single drop! If you don't build up your strength..." She bit her tongue, realizing she had almost said too much. "If you're weak, how are you supposed to help look after your sister?"

I understood completely. The soup wasn't meant to heal me. It was meant to prime the marrow donor for Yumi.

I walked over, picked up the bowl, and forced the burning liquid down my throat. It scalded my throat and pooled in my stomach, hot enough to burn.

"It's gone," I said, setting the empty bowl down and retreating to my room.

Behind me, Mom let out a satisfied hum. "That's a good girl."

By ten that night, my parents went into Yumi's room to tuck her in. I slipped out of my room and crept into the master bedroom. In her rush, Mom had left the bottom drawer unlocked.

The brown leather notebook lay inside, waiting.

I opened the first page, and the blood drained from my face. It was a detailed record of Yumi's failing health, juxtaposed with my market value.

Age 8: Yumi's corneal ulcer. Plan: Use the pawnshop to secure Wren's left cornea.

Age 10: Yumi's surgical hemorrhaging. Plan: Prompt Wren to make a wish; extract 500cc of blood.

Age 11: Yumi's end-stage kidney failure. Plan: Use a bedtime kiss on her birthday to extract Wren's left kidney.

Every entry was written in Mom's elegant, sloping handwriting. At the very bottom, there was a fresh entry, the ink barely dry.

Age 12: Yumi's bone marrow failure. Plan: Bone marrow transplant.

A thick red circle surrounded the words: The Final Step.

[System Update: Remaining soul at 58%. Emotional detachment in progress.]

I closed the journal and placed it exactly where I found it. I didn't cry. The crushing pain in my chest was gone, replaced by a dull, hollow silence. The system was right. I was feeling less and less.

Back in my bedroom, I pulled open the wardrobe doors. Sure enough, tucked into the dusty corner was a single wrapped caramel chew. It was the signal that the pawnshop was open.

I picked it up and unwrapped it. I knew it was laced with sedatives and hallucinogens, designed to blur my reality and keep me compliant. That was how they kept their six-year lie alive.

I popped the candy into my mouth without hesitation, chewing and swallowing it.

Ten minutes later, the drugs kicked in. My vision blurred, and the wooden backing of the closet seemed to dissolve into a dark, swirling gateway. The back of the wardrobe opened, and a figure draped in a heavy black cloak stepped forward.

I knew it was Dad.

"Little girl, have you come to make another trade?" The shopkeeper's voice was deep and metallic, disguised by a cheap voice changer.

I slumped to the floor, tilting my head up to look at him. "I want to make a wish, sir. I want my sister to be fully healed. I want her to never be sick again."

The masked figure stiffened. He hadn't expected me to ask for Yumi's health after everything they had already taken. But he recovered quickly, sticking to his script.

"That is a massive request. You have already given your eye and your kidney. What do you have left to offer?" He paused, his voice turning dark and theatrical. "To buy your sister's life, you must trade your marrow. Extracting bone marrow is excruciating. Are you willing?"

The heavy fog in my mind deepened, making my eyelids droop.

[System Update: Confirming consent. Soul at 58%.]

"I'm willing," I whispered. I closed my eyes, letting out one final breath before the darkness claimed me. "I'm willing... Dad."

That single word, Dad, sent a visible shockwave through the cloaked figure. I couldn't see his face under the mask, but I felt him stumble back a half step in pure panic.

He was terrified. Terrified that his six-year charade had been shattered.

But I didn't say another word. The drugs pulled me under, burying me in pitch black.

When I woke up, the afternoon sun was high. I was back in my bed, a glass of lukewarm water resting on the nightstand.

Over the next few days, a bizarre, fragile peace settled over our home. Dad stopped glaring at me. He even bought me a beautiful new dress. Mom became incredibly attentive, cooking different meals for me every night. Even Yumi was on her best behavior, offering to share her favorite toys.

They were walking on eggshells, constantly watching my face to see if I knew the truth. As long as I didn't bring up that whispered "Dad," they could convince themselves it was just the drug-induced rambling of a delirious child. For the sake of that final transplant, they maintained this fragile, suffocating illusion of love.

On the seventh morning, Mom walked into my room carrying a fresh coat. "Put this on, Wren. I'm taking you to the clinic to get your anemia checked."

She smiled warmly, but her eyes refused to meet mine.

I slipped the coat on and silently followed her out to Dad's car.

We didn't drive toward the state hospital downtown. Instead, the car drifted into the industrial district on the edge of the city. The streets here were desolate, lined with rusty factories and overgrown weeds.

We pulled up outside a dingy, grey three-story building. A rusted sign hung crookedly from the roof: Apex Clinic. A few stray cats scavenged around a dumpster near the entrance.

Inside, the overpowering stench of cheap, harsh bleach hit my throat. At the end of the narrow corridor stood a balding, middle-aged man in a wrinkled white coat.

Dr. Gable.

I recognized him. He was the one who had taken my kidney.

"Thomas, you're here," Dr. Gable said, crushing a lit cigarette in an ashtray. His eyes rolled over to me, assessing me like livestock. "She's grown. Looks like you've fed her well."

Mom clutched her handbag tightly. "Are you sure about this, Doctor? Yumi is already prepped and waiting at the general hospital."

Dr. Gable let out a dry, dismissive laugh. "Relax. It's just a marrow extraction. It's not going to kill her. Get her inside and prepped. We need to deliver the sample before the window closes."

Two nurses flanked me, taking firm hold of my arms. I didn't resist. I let them lead me into a cold, makeshift operating room. There were no clean, modern beds like Dr. Bennett's hospital. Only rusted metal stands, flickering monitors, and a cold steel table.

"Lay flat and don't move, sweetheart. A quick shot and you'll go to sleep," Dr. Gable said, approaching with a massive syringe.

The thick needle pierced my vein. In my mind, the system's final countdown began.

[Soul extraction accelerating.]

[Remaining soul: 5%...]

The icy sedative rushed through my bloodstream, pulling my limbs into a heavy paralysis.

[3%...]

The blinding surgical light above fractured into a hazy, white fog.

[1%...]

I remembered Mom snatching the sweet glazed ribs from my plate. I remembered the night Dad stole my kidney. With the absolute last ounce of my strength, I whispered to the system:

Execute trade.

[Ding... 0%.]

[Soul successfully extracted. Transaction complete. Forced emotional infusion initiated.]

On the monitor, the rhythmic pulsing line suddenly flattened into a solid, unyielding green streak. A high, piercing screech shattered the quiet of the operating room.

Dr. Gable, holding the marrow extraction needle, froze. His hand shook, and the heavy metal needle clattered onto the linoleum floor.

"What the hell?" he swore loudly, frantic. He slammed his palm against the side of the monitor. "No pulse! Her blood pressure is flatlining! Get the crash cart! Now!"

Outside, Dad was on his phone, confirming the delivery window with the general hospital. At the sound of the sudden panic inside, his coffee mug slipped from his grip, shattering against the concrete floor.

Mom bolted upright, all color leaving her face.

The heavy doors burst open, and a nurse ran out, her gloved hands stained with blood. "Dr. Gable says she's gone! We have no signs of life!"

Thomas and his wife stood completely frozen, turned to stone.