I Was A Donor, I’m A Wolf Princess

Chapter 4

I had gone a full day and night without food.

My stomach felt like someone was twisting a knife inside it.

My mother noticed the tiny movements I couldn't hide—me swallowing, me clutching my stomach.

The smile stayed on her face.

But her eyes had frozen over.

She dragged over a bucket of slop from the corner, something I didn't even know who it had been meant to feed, and dumped it in front of me.

"Eat," she said, looking down at me.

"This is the kind of life you were born for."

"Don't actually starve to death, though. My precious girl still needs you."

The sour stench hit me so hard my vision went black around the edges.

My stomach rolled violently.

At the door, the Chairman spoke in a low voice.

"That isn't food for a person."

My mother didn't even lift her head.

"Mind your own business."

Don't.

I looked at the Chairman.

Don't stand up to them for me.

He still didn't know who I was.

If he showed even the slightest hint of protecting me, those two lunatics were capable of anything.

The air had gone rigid when a delicate figure drifted in through the door.

Clara.

My precious, pampered sister.

Her sickly face was pale as paper, but her eyes were bright.

She walked up to me and crouched down.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, each one perfectly timed.

"Does it hurt, little sister?"

"If you just behave, you won't have to suffer like this."

"Mom and Dad do care about you, you know."

"When I get better, we can go to school together, go shopping together, be real sisters..."

I spat a mouthful of bloody foam in her face and bared my teeth at her.

Like a wolf cornered against a wall, still ready to tear out your throat.

Dream on.

They had gone through all this trouble to bring me here for one reason.

They wanted me to "volunteer" to become her walking organ bank.

News of her illness had spread long ago.

Every so often, she needed something replaced.

And it had to come from a direct blood relative.

Clara slowly wiped the blood from her face.

For the first time, poison showed through that angelic mask.

"My doctor said as long as it's from a direct blood relative, they can take a little at a time."

"Enough to keep me going for many, many years."

Her gaze landed on the crescent-shaped birthmark on my arm.

"But first, this has to go."

She took a lighter from her delicate little purse.

"It would be so annoying if those country trash who raised you ever came looking."

My mother pressed down on my shoulder and held me in place.

The flame touched my forearm.

The smell of burning flesh rose into the air.

My whole body arched tight like a drawn bow.

Only a string of broken, breathless sounds escaped my throat.

The crescent turned into a grotesque patch of blisters.

The final proof of who I was was gone.

But I didn't cry.

I stared at Clara's smug face and swallowed the pain, piece by piece.

You think burning off a birthmark means I can never go home?

You really don't know the people who raised me.

They never recognized me by that crescent.

They recognized me by the stubborn way I got up after crashing my bike and knocking out my front tooth.

By the mouth that got caught stealing liquor at midnight and still argued the bottle had poured itself into me.

By the fists I used to fight for every bullied kid in town.

Maggie always made my birthday cake and secretly added one extra candle so I could make one more wish.

Old Blade taught me how to write and filled an entire wall with the word "home."

Fire couldn't burn any of that away.

Clara blew lightly on her fingertips.

Then she looked down at me and smiled like an angel.

"Now you're just a nameless little part no one will ever come looking for."

She turned to the Chairman, her voice sweet and careless.

"Sir, please take care of any other marks on her body too."

"And keep a close eye on her for us. She needs to stay alive for me."

"For a long, long time."

The Chairman lowered his eyes and didn't look at anyone.

Then he answered in a low voice.

"Okay."

I closed my eyes.

It's fine.

Really. It's fine.

Everyone in this town had loved me.

And the two of you—

not once.

Not from the day I was born.