The Human Blood Bank Chapter 1

The call came in the middle of the night. It was my colleague, Jessica. Her mom was in critical condition and needed Rh-negative blood.

I was a match. So I went and donated 400cc.

Her family didn't offer a single word of thanks. They didn't even make me a bowl of soup.

Six months later, the phone rang again. "The blood we got last time wasn't enough. We're going to have to trouble you again."

I held the phone to my ear and spelled it out, one word at a time. "A 400cc intravenous donation. Compensation for nutritional supplements, lost work, and emotional distress. The total comes to twenty thousand dollars."

"Wire the money first. I'll go as soon as it hits my account."

* * *

On the other end of the line, Jessica Bell's voice cut out as if the signal had died. The silence was absolute, stretching for three long seconds.

It was followed by a volcanic eruption of rage.

"Alex, are you fucking insane? This is extortion! My mother is lying in a hospital bed, and you're demanding money from me?"

I moved the phone slightly away from my ear to escape her piercing shriek, my gaze drifting to the inky blackness outside the window. Tonight’s sky was just like the one six months ago—a thick, suffocating darkness that refused to yield.

My voice was calm.

"That's my price. If you accept, transfer the money. If not, find someone else."

"Do you have a conscience? This is a human life we're talking about! How can you just stand by and watch someone die?" Jessica screamed into the phone, her voice cracking. Each word was a sharp, moral dagger, trying to nail me to a pillar of shame.

A conscience?

An image from six months ago flashed, unbidden, before my eyes.

Two in the morning. The donation center at City General Hospital.

The needle slid out of the vein in my arm as 400cc of my crimson blood flowed through a tube into a sterile bag. The nurse told me to press down on the cotton ball and get some rest.

I was dizzy and nauseous, my face as pale as a sheet, sitting alone on a cold bench in the corridor.

Not far from me, Jessica and her father, David Bell, were gathered around the doctor who had just emerged from the operating room. They were showering him with emotional questions and endless words of gratitude.

"Thank you, Doctor, thank you! You're our family's savior!"

"You must be exhausted, Doctor. Please, have some water!"

Not once did either of them so much as glance in my direction.

I was like a spare chair in the hallway, used and then forgotten, an object of no concern.

The warmth that left my body with the blood was nothing compared to the chill seeping into my heart.

I sat there alone until the dizziness subsided, then used the wall to steady myself as I shuffled out of the hospital, one slow step at a time.

The frigid pre-dawn wind cut through my thin clothes. I pulled my jacket tighter and hailed a cab.

As the car passed by Jessica’s apartment building, I could smell it, even through the closed window: the rich, savory aroma of chicken soup wafting from her kitchen.

It must have been for David, a nourishing meal to help him recover after a long, stressful night.

And me? The person who had just given 400cc of life-saving blood? I hadn’t been offered so much as a glass of water.

The memory was a needle, piercing my heart and reawakening the long-suppressed humiliation and coldness.

I let out a bitter laugh into the phone.

"I'll say it again. Twenty thousand dollars. I'll go when the money arrives."

Then, I hung up.

Without a moment's hesitation, I found Jessica's contact and blocked her number.

The moment I did, my world fell blessedly silent.

But the screen lit up again almost immediately. An unknown number.

I didn't answer. I let it ring, persistent and demanding.

Soon, the text messages started flooding in.

"Alex you son of a bitch! You'll get what's coming to you!"

"If anything happens to my mom, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life!"

"Please, Alex, I'm begging you. Just consider it a loan, okay? We have to save her!"

"You heartless monster. I hope you die a horrible death!"

The tone shifted from desperate pleading to venomous curses in a heartbeat, a perfect reflection of Jessica's true, self-serving nature.

Expressionless, I screenshotted every single message and saved them in a newly created folder I named "Evidence."

Then, I switched my phone to airplane mode.

The buzzing, frantic world finally went quiet.

I knew this was only the beginning.

They had grown accustomed to my "kindness," to me being "easygoing." Now that my kindness had a price tag, they could only see it as a betrayal.

Since they had no decency, I would teach them about value.