I SACRIFICED MY SISTERS’ EGGS FOR MY WEALTH
The truth that has been choking me for years
People think the worst sins are committed by strangers, criminals, or monsters hiding in the dark. But sometimes the real evil comes from someone inside the family — someone trusted, someone loved. In my case, the evil was me.
Before anyone comes for me, I need to say this: I did what I did because hunger can turn a human being into something unrecognisable. Poverty can twist your mind until right and wrong start to look the same. I was young, scared, and desperate… but none of that washes the blood off my hands.
What I am about to confess is something I have never said out loud. It is the reason I cannot look my sisters in the eye anymore. It is the reason their homes are filled with tears and unanswered prayers. It is the reason I cannot sleep at night.
This is how I sacrificed my own sisters’ eggs for wealth — and how the consequences have come back for me.
I have four sisters. Two older, two younger. We were born close to each other, almost like my parents were trying to build a family while life was tearing them apart. My mother has been mentally challenged all her life. My father was blind. Even today, I still wonder how two people carrying so much pain found each other and created children they couldn’t properly raise.
We grew up in poverty so deep that hunger became normal. Pain became routine. And shame became our shadow. Relatives tried to help us when we were small, but my mother fought everyone off. She didn’t trust anyone. So we grew up alone — trapped in a house where no one was mentally or physically able to guide us.
When my father died, everything collapsed completely. I was still a teenager, but suddenly I was “the man of the house.” My older sister was mentally unstable too. So all responsibility fell on me. I didn’t even know how to be an adult, but I had to act like one.
I was 17 the day the biggest mistake of my life walked into my path.
I had spent the whole day in the mountains hunting for anything we could cook for supper. I was exhausted and angry at life. On my way home, a man I had never seen before stopped me. He spoke gently, almost like he had been waiting for me. He told me he knew how difficult my life was. He told me there was a way out — a way to never starve again.
Then he told me something that sounded crazy and evil… but also like hope.
He said he needed my sisters’ used sanitary pads.
He explained it like it was the most normal thing in the world. He said there was a powerful friend he would give me. A friend who lived underground. A friend who fed on blood. A friend that could give me money and protection in exchange for those pads.
He said I could call it my “ATM.”
Desperation can silence your conscience. Hunger can shut down your soul. And poverty can blind you to the future. I agreed.
The man bought sanitary pads for my sisters every month to ensure nothing was missed. My job was to monitor their periods, wait for the used pads, and secretly dig them out after they threw them away. I was to feed them to the creature inside the hole he instructed me to dig in our yard — a hole no one else should ever discover.
And so, at 17, I fed my sisters’ blood to a snake for wealth.
For 18 years, I did this. Month after month. Year after year.
And it worked.
Money came. Luck changed. We built a house. We gave our mother proper medication. We lived like people who finally had a chance.
I told myself I did it for my family.
I told myself I did it to save us.
I told myself I had no choice.
But today I know the truth: I destroyed my sisters’ futures to fix our present.
Two of my sisters are married now. And they cannot have children. Their homes are filled with fights, doctor visits, and silent tears. Their husbands blame them. They blame themselves. But deep inside, I know the real reason. I know what I took from them. I know what I fed to that creature for almost two decades.
And the worst part?
The snake left.
It disappeared on its own.
One day I opened the hole and found nothing but its shredded skin.
Just like that — the wealth stopped. The money vanished. Our luck dried up overnight.
We are struggling again, worse than before, because now we know how life feels when it’s good… and how painful it is to lose it.
I walk around with a heavy heart. Every time I see my sisters praying for children, I feel like a criminal standing inside my own home. Their tears remind me of the price I made them pay without their permission.
I sacrificed my sisters’ eggs for wealth.
The wealth is gone now.
But the curse I created is still here.
And so is the guilt — the only thing I will never escape.
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