My Parents Priced My Death
Language: en
There's a whiteboard in our house. It tracks my countdown. "Days until Memoria's estimated heart failure: 47 days." Every morning, Mom carefully erases yesterday's number and writes the new one. Just like a supermarket sale countdown. Precise, cold, full of anticipation. My name is Memoria. I'm twelve years old. Congenital heart disease. The doctor said without surgery, I won't live past six months. The surgery costs three million dollars. My dad, Richard Monroe, is worth two billion. But he said: "Three million. Not worth it." Because there's another healthy child in the family. My…