My Bone Marrow? Not For My Killer

Chapter 4

Eight days had passed since the matching report was released. Mireille's condition took a sudden, brutal nosedive.

That night, I lay sprawled in bed, scrolling through my phone. The class group chat exploded.

A: Mireille has been transferred. To the regional medical center.

B: The doctor said if they cannot find a donor, then...

A flood of crying emojis followed.

Valerie Vance messaged me privately.

Valerie: Sybilla, did you hear?

Sybilla: Yes.

Valerie: She... seems like she is doing really badly.

I did not reply.

Two minutes later, Valerie sent another message.

Valerie: Sybilla, if you do not want to donate, then do not. The things people are saying online are just plain vile.

Sybilla: What are they saying?

Valerie sent a screenshot.

A post from the student forum.

The title read: Someone Matched but Refuses to Donate Marrow. Is That Basically Manslaughter?

The comments underneath:

A: [Anyone know who it is?]

B: [That Sybilla Carrow from Class Twelve.]

C: [The one Mireille and her crew used to mess with? Is this revenge?]

D: [Revenge should not cost an actual life, right?]

E: [She is just waiting for Mireille to die so she can celebrate.]

F: [People like that are honestly disgusting.]

'Disgusting.'

In my past life, Mireille had called me disgusting. She said my body was disgusting. In this life, the script had shifted, but those exact words remained the same.

I closed the image.

Sybilla: Valerie, thank you.

Valerie: For what? I just think you must have your reasons.

Sybilla: Mm.

Valerie: You do not have to explain if you do not want to. Either way, I am on your side.

I stared at that line on the screen for a long, quiet moment.

In my past life, Valerie had also said those words, but only after I died. She wept at my memorial service and told my mother, "Sybilla was the kindest girl."

This time, she said it while I was still breathing.

I sent back a single word.

Sybilla: Okay.

Then I flipped the phone face down on the pillow and shut my eyes.

In the darkness, I listened to the wind rattling against the window pane. Winter had arrived early that year. By mid-November, the gusts already carried a razor edge.

I turned over and wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

My fingers traced the vein on my left inner arm. It was smooth. No thick puncture marks. No deep purple bruising.

The corner of my mouth curved upward.

I slept.

*****

The next morning, a fresh announcement was posted directly at the main school gates.

In stark black lettering against white card stock, it read:

"Mireille Hollis of Class Twelve is in critical condition and urgently requires a compatible hematopoietic stem cell donor. All faculty and students are strongly encouraged to undergo screening to save a fellow student's life."

Signed by the Student Council.

A dense crowd had already gathered beneath the board.

I slipped past them, my backpack slung over one shoulder.

Someone called out, "Sybilla."

I turned.

It was Alden Croft, a senior from the adjacent hall and the student council president. He was clutching a stack of freshly printed notices waiting to be pinned up.

"Sybilla, word is going around that you are a match."

I stayed silent.

"Can you just consider it? Mireille is truly on the brink..."

"Alden," I met his gaze directly, "did you get screened yourself?"

He hesitated. "I did. I was not compatible."

"What about your parents? Your cousins?"

"I..."

"Are you an only child? Not a single cousin or uncle?"

His mouth opened, then faltered. "I have extended family, but..."

"Did you push them to drive to the hospital and get tested?"

No answer came.

"Alden," I pulled my shoulder strap higher, "before you lecture other people on basic decency, why do you not start by rallying your own relatives? You have the nerve to preach morality to me, yet your own cousins cannot be bothered to roll up their sleeves?"

His face flushed a dark crimson.

I turned on my heel and walked away.

*****

During the break after second period, Corinne and Tabitha cornered me right at my desk.

"Sybilla, step outside for a minute."

I did not lift my head.

"If you have something to say, say it right here."

"You..." Corinne dropped her voice, trembling with suppressed anger. "Mireille's mother is back at the hospital. The specialists say she might..."

"Might what?"

"She might not survive the month!" Tabitha's voice cracked with tears. "Sybilla, how can you be so merciless? Do you really harbor that much hatred?"

I set my ballpoint pen down on the desk.

I lifted my eyes to meet theirs. "You both know I am the only match, correct?"

They nodded.

"Then do you know why my blood was on file in the first place?"

They froze.

"Back during our freshman physicals, Mireille shoved me against the corner of a metal desk. The cut tore deep into my arm, bleeding through my sleeve. The nurse on duty drew blood to check for infection risks and typed it. That single incident was why my data was in the system."

Corinne's face drained of every speck of color.

"That day, Mireille shoved me simply because my sleeve brushed against her thermos while I was collecting homework. She demanded I drop to my knees in front of the board and beg for forgiveness. I refused. So she shoved me into the sharp corner."

The classroom fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. Every set of eyes in the room was locked onto us.

"Now you demand that I carve out my bone marrow to save her. You believe I owe it to her existence."

I pushed my chair back and stood up. "Tell me then. How much abuse is a victim expected to endure before she has paid her dues to you people?"

Not a soul spoke.

"You call me heartless." I locked my eyes straight onto Corinne. "When you padlocked me inside the unheated equipment shed during a blizzard freshman year, did you consider yourself heartless?"

Corinne stumbled back half a step, her heel catching on the desk behind her.

"When you tore up my literature essay and dumped it in the trash bin sophomore year, did any of you think of cruelty?"

Tabitha's head dropped toward her chest.

"When you had someone drag my desk out into the muddy hallway during rain senior year, did a single one of you open your mouth to object?"

The entire classroom remained so quiet you could hear the wind scraping the glass.

"And now she is dying." I sat back down.

I turned the page of my textbook. "I am not saving her."

Corinne stood paralyzed before my desk. Her lips trembled uncontrollably.

She could not force out a single syllable of rebuttal.

She spun around on her heel and hurried out the back door. Tabitha trailed silently after her.

Around the room, one by one, every classmate averted their eyes.

I stared down at the printed equations on the page. I could not absorb a single character.

Yet my hands resting against the wood were completely still...

Not a single tremor.