When Family Sells Your Soul

The first thing I remembered from my last life was the end: the chloroform, the burlap, and my mother' s voice selling me off for twenty grand. Then, the tearing, the brutal silence.

I woke up, reborn, to the sterile smell of antiseptic. My mother, Brenda, lay frail in a hospital bed, diagnosed with end-stage kidney disease. Her eyes, expertly filled with tears, found mine as she wailed, "I'll just... let nature take its course. Save the money for the kids." This was the moment I shattered in my first life, begging to save her.