POV Nicholas

As we drove along the road, we passed by the cream-colored, matching two-story houses. Even though the houses looked similar, each one had its own unique character, with subtle variations in the ornaments decorating the lawns and porches. The driveways featured different colored, classic SUVs. As we ventured farther in, the joyful sounds of children's laughter and playful screams filled the air, creating a vibrant and lively atmosphere.

Like I thought, our new house here in Phoenix, Arizona, was going to be in some peaceful little suburban area. Just the thought of it was dreadful.

"So, what do you think, sweetie?" The blonde woman, her hair tied back in a neat bun, turned back to ask. Her usually sharp blue eyes now stared directly at the petite, fourteen-year-old girl next to me with hope and expectation.

"It's amazing," she answers, her head turned toward the open window. This causes her jet-black, shoulder-length hair to blow in the wind. She looks at the woman while tucking her hair behind her ears and adds, "Can't believe this is our new home." She gives the woman a big grin. "Can't wait to see the new house, Mom."

"And here your mom was worried you wouldn't like it here."

"Why wouldn't I?" She says before locking eyes with the man driving through the rearview mirror. Her bright blue eyes clash with his brown ones as if to refute him. A few minutes in, she lets out a sigh, breaking eye contact. "Yes, I'm going to miss my friends back in Philadelphia, but I'm happy about the fresh start at a new school, so don't worry, Dad."

"Your mom was the worried one, not me," he says, quick to deny.

"Sure thing, Dad," she laughs it off.

"I'm just glad you like it here and are looking forward to the new school. After all, you're starting high school in a week."

"Mother, please do not worry. Everything will be alright. Besides, I have Nicholas with me," she says, turning to me with a radiant smile. "He will take care of me." She adds.

I could feel my mother's cold gaze shift towards me, as if to ascertain that I would say and do the right thing.

"Of course, your big brother will take care of you," my mother said in response before giving me a look that sent chills down my spine. "Isn't that right, honey?" she says sweetly.

I slowly open my mouth for the first time in hours. "Yeah, I will look out for you. I am your brother," I reply, plastering my signature smile on my face.

"You'd better take good care of her," my father adds.

"He will, Dad," she laughs it off. As my father gives me a stern look.

With that, no other questions were directed toward me again during the entire trip to our house. My father finally turned into a driveway before parking the car.

"The movers have already placed everything inside as best they could, so hopefully, it's good."

"Sounds good, Mom," Anne said, getting out of the car along with my mother.

Left in the car with my dad, I felt like the air from my lungs was being sucked out. "Get the bags," he said without even looking at me. With that, he got out.

For the first time in the past seven hours of this whole trip, I could finally breathe. I let my shoulders relax before breathing in.

After a few minutes, I get out of the car and head toward the back of the black SUV where all our luggage is placed. It's a good thing everything was taken by the movers, and the only things we had were for the last few days before the trip here. There is only one large suitcase, two small ones, and my backpack.

I take out the large suitcase and the small one, knowing that's where all my parents' and Anne's things are.

As I enter the house, I notice how it is a bit bigger than our old one and that we now seem to have a basement. Although the cream-colored walls are plain, it's not so bad because of the numerous pictures on the wall. It seems the movers did a good job.

As I ascend the stairs with the suitcases, I can hear Anne's joyful screams. "Oh my God, I have my own bathroom and walk-in closet!" she exclaims. "Plus, did you get me new clothes and things?"

I can not resist the temptation to cautiously approach the open door and take a discreet look.

"Of course, you're starting a different school, in different areas, with different people, so why not try different things!"

"Thank you! Thank you! Wait, is that a new laptop?" she says, looking at her desk before looking back at my parents.

"And a phone," my father says, pulling out a pink iPhone 15 Pro. Just like that, she throws herself into his arms.

"Not fair. I wanted to give it to her," Mother says before she gets pulled into the hug.

Averting my gaze from the heartwarming scene within the spacious pink and purple room, I would have presumed it to be the master bedroom had I not been aware that this was a residence designed for a single-child family. While the master bedroom is indeed sizable, there exists an additional room of comparable dimensions-that being the child's bedroom.

Of course, there is one guest room, which is smaller compared to the other rooms and has no walk-in closet or bathroom. In other words, the person staying there needs to use the bathroom in the hallway. That person is me.

Honestly, I'm surprised my parents can spend so much money like that on Anne. It's not like we are a wealthy family, but that's how it has always been since they brought her home. It's meaningless to even question it, I thought.

I placed my parents' suitcase outside their door before gently placing the smaller one near the room everyone was in. I quickly went to get my things from the car before heading to my plain white room and threw myself onto the queen-sized bed.

I did not bother to look around, as I was too exhausted to think or see clearly. I can not even recall the last time I had a proper night's sleep in the past few days.

As I gradually felt myself drifting into sleep, I could not help but hope for a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

****************

"Is this okay?" one of the women wearing a white uniform whispered to the other. "He's so young," she added, giving me a brief glance that conveyed concern.

"The Doctor has granted permission; the matter is beyond our control. Additionally, what possible actions could you take?" the other woman stated without making any effort to lower her voice.

"However, his body is already weakened from the apheresis donation he had two days ago. Now this," she says, shaking her head. "They should allow him to rest."

"You are aware, correct? They want to save their daughter. What happens to him in the process is of no consequence," the other woman says with a disapproving expression. "Furthermore, he is only in this condition because his body could not withstand the medication used to increase stem cells. He will eventually recover."

"How can you be this way? He's also a patient we have to take care of," she says, clearly frustrated as she raises her voice.

"Mr. Anderson makes a generous donation to this hospital annually. Consequently, it is not unusual for families to have a child who serves as a donor. While some may find this practice questionable, it is understandable that parents would do everything in their power to save their child's life."

But -"

"I'm tired of this. If you have a problem, complain to the medical department. Just keep in mind what happened the last time someone tried to play the hero." She states, her gaze fixed upon me. "It's just not worth it."

"Excuse me, but you can't leave. We are responsible for monitoring him," she requested, attempting to prevent the other woman from departing.

However, the departing woman merely responded, "Are you joining me or not?"

With a guilty expression, she turned to me as she watched the other nurse leave before following her.

As I lay there in bed, barely able to move a finger, let alone lift myself up, all I could think about was whether Juliet was well. If I felt this unwell, then she must be feeling even worse. But my two-year-old body wouldn't move, so I couldn't go see her. As her brother, I felt like a failure.

My mother always told me that taking care of Juliet was our primary responsibility and that we should always prioritize her well-being above all else. However, I am not currently by her side, so how can I be sure she's okay that she's not in pain?

I heard the doctor tell my mother yesterday that my sister's cancer has spread to her kidney, so they will need me to donate one of mine. The only problem is they weren't sure if I would be a match, so they had to put the process on hold.

However, Mother had a different opinion. Some people might perceive her actions as a lack of concern for my well-being, but I am certain that she loves me deeply. Therefore, it is my responsibility to behave well and ensure Juliet's well-being.
As I contemplated this, I mustered the courage to raise one of my small, trembling hands toward the IV, attempting to remove it. After several attempts, I successfully managed to do so.

Subsequently, I gradually pushed myself up, trying to get down from the bed. Although this task would have been effortless for most people, my weak and diminutive body made it more challenging than anticipated. I tightly gripped the pristine white sheets as I slowly slid down the bed.

As my feet made contact with the cold, white, tiled floor, a shiver ran through my body. I made a shaky attempt to walk toward the door, but I could only manage two steps before collapsing onto the ground.

I struggled to regain my footing, but my strength had completely vanished, and the throbbing in my head intensified. I couldn't move.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I reminded myself of the importance of being a good boy. I had to fulfill this expectation, or Mother would indeed punish me severely, I thought as my strength completely abandoned me.

************

I promptly rise from my bed, sweat beading on my brow as I struggle to catch my breath.

I find myself once again haunted by a dream of that fateful day. Despite the absence of any delusions that they would ever acknowledge me as their son or even as a person, these dreams continue to torment me.

Upon checking my phone, I discovered that only an hour has gone by. I regret not taking my sleeping pills, as it would have given me a longer period of sleep, perhaps five hours.

A drop of moisture falls onto my phone screen, and I instinctively wipe my face, only to realize that it is not sweat.

As tears stream down my cheeks, I can only manage a rueful chuckle at my pathetic state.

**************

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