We Drew Straws For My Death
Language: en
My sister and I both had leukemia. Mine was worse. There was only enough money in our parents' savings to treat one of us, so they decided to draw straws. I thought it was just a cruel twist of fate, an unbiased hand of destiny. But then I heard them arguing through the thin bedroom door, their voices raw and strained: "The longer straw went to Norah! She’s the eldest, and she’s the sicker one. We have to treat her first!" my father argued, his voice thick with a desperate logic. My mother’s voice broke, a jagged, agonizing sound. "We have to treat Grace first! Think about how many times…