Chapter 1

When my parents first held me, the very first thing they said was, "It's okay, Lily. It's just like taking a nap. When you wake up, Emily will be all better."

But after the surgery, the pain was so intense that I couldn't even speak.

The doctor whispered something to my parents, and they nodded with tearful eyes.

The next day, they took me back into the operating room.

When I woke up this time, there was a long incision across my stomach.

The nurse looked at me and quietly wiped away her tears.

Mom, Dad, it hurt just to breathe then.

Why did you say it would only be once, but you made me go through surgery three times?

*****

After the third surgery, even breathing hurt.

The long incision on my stomach felt like I was being split in half. The stitches tugged at my skin and flesh with every movement, and the pain pierced right through me.

The nurse stood at the door, her eyes red. She gave me a quick glance before turning away.

I heard Mom crying in the hallway. "The doctor said the transplant failed. Lily needs to give more..."

"What else does she need to give? Just tell me!" Dad's voice was urgent.

"Part of her liver! The doctor said the match is perfect. This is Emily's last chance..." Mom replied.

I wanted to cry out, but my throat was so tight that all I managed was a faint, strangled whimper.

Dad pushed the door open, forcing a strained smile. "Sweetie, you're awake! Feeling any better?"

I tried to tell him it hurt, but he was already gone.

"She's awake. Go tell the doctor we agree," Dad said.

Mom's voice came through the door, anxious and pleading. "Emily can't wait any longer. Is it possible to do it tonight?"

I shook my head desperately, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Dad came back in and sat down beside my bed. His hand was warm as he stroked my hair. "Sweetie, you're the big sister. You love Emily, don't you?"

I wanted to tell him how much it hurt, how scared I was.

But Dad kept talking, "Emily's still so little; she's only three. You're already seven, a big kid now. You know how to take care of your little sister, right?"

I remembered when Emily was just born. My parents held her and told me to give her a gentle kiss on her chubby little cheek.

"Look, this is your little sister. You'll always look out for her, okay?" Mom said back then.

I nodded; Emily really was adorable.

But then Emily got sick. The doctors said it was leukemia.

Mom and Dad couldn't stop crying, and the air at home felt so heavy, it was hard to breathe.

One day, Mom suddenly hugged me, tears streaming down her face. "Sweetie, only your bone marrow can save Emily. Will you help her, please?"

I said I would.

Mom squeezed me so tight, tighter than ever before. "My good girl, you're our little angel. You know Mommy loves you more than anything."

Dad crouched down and gently touched my cheek. "Don't be scared, honey. It won't hurt at all. It's just like taking a nap; when you wake up, Emily will be all better."

But after the surgery, the pain just wouldn't go away; it lasted for days.

They promised it would only be once, but I've already had three surgeries.

The first time, they took my bone marrow. Then they said it wasn't enough, so they had to do it again and take even more.

And now, they want a piece of my liver too.

"Sweetie, can you help Emily just one more time? I promise, this is the last," Dad pleaded gently. "Look at your mom. Her eyes are all puffy from crying."

I saw Mom standing by the door, her eyes so swollen they looked like walnuts.

I wanted to say no, but the words just wouldn't come out.

That night, Mom and Dad wheeled me into the operating room again.

The anesthesiologist put the oxygen mask on me, and I watched the ceiling lights flicker by one after another.

I remembered what Miss Taylor, my kindergarten teacher, always said: "Kids, you have to learn to protect yourselves."

But how was I supposed to protect myself?

I was just a seven-year-old kid.