Heart Missing Piece Novels & Stories

My heart tore and I cried out, my arms and back jolted to rigid steel as I pounded into her, seeking, seeking, seeking—stoking the fire that burned through heart, through ribs, through skin. That muscle deep in my chest that bled life into the rest of me, turned and flipped, hammered and leaped—until a piece of me tore away. I bellowed in the explosion of pure bliss and searing pain that twisted together and shot from me, stretching for her, reaching—and cried my relief when she was found. Something… a piece, the very shape of the heart that I had lost, met me in the air, then dove back through the searing, blazing heat of me to rest, finally in that place. The hole that had been created… sh

“I know! Just…shit…just stab the heart!” Dropping the phone again, I grabbed the metal rod. I stood up and lined up the end with the heart. Pulling back, I pushed the rod through the heart. At first, it gave me resistance and I had to push down with all my might. Something cracked and sounded like glass shattering before the rod slammed into the heart, through it and into the ground.

"Normal. For you. For now." He approached, the proximity that was necessary and charged. The Holter's electrodes needed placement — the stickers that would record 24 hours of electrical activity, the data that was Arthie's life made visible. "Shirt," Cyrus instructed, the word that was clinical and not-clinical simultaneously. Arthie complied, the motion that was familiar now, the exposure that was vulnerability and trust. His chest was scarred — the surgical site from the ablation, healed but visible, the reminder that his heart had been opened, mapped, burned, repaired.

I ignored him. With trembling hands, I lifted Tibet from the couch and gently laid him on the floor. His chest cavity was a ruined mess of blood and flesh, the hole too large, too dark. I glanced at the heart. Would it work? I didn’t know, but I had to try. I snatched the heart off the floor and pushed it into his chest, not caring how desperate or insane it looked. My hands were slippery with his blood, and I fumbled, pressing it into place as best I could.

“He is doing very well, still early for rejection, but damn,that is a good figure.” “Yeah, he should not reject it, as it is not organic, and that is part of why we have had rejections before.” “Talk me through this.” “When was the last time you heard of a hip replacement rejecting the part put in, or pins or staples in a body?” “Rarely.” “That is the secret of the heart. This one is early, and I am making better ones as I go along, but it is not organic, so rejection is less likely.” We talked some more about the heart and how it was made and how it beats.

I never knew it earlier that I had to break these many times before my heart scattered pieces could be assembled together by the power of love. The air in the room suddenly felf too cold for my nerves, My hands felt lifeless holding that piece of paper with all those unwelcoming fragments of information. The room was dark and gloomy, my heart felt hollow and alone. As if something is missing. Something that is everything for me. Someone which was to close to my heart. Keeping a palm above my heart, I felt the beating of my moaning heart. "I need to meet him, ask him, discuss with him certain things. And clear the environment amidst us." my heart seems to say something and I stood up with a r

However, I had learned a painful lesson that people's hearts were a fickle lot, and it was rare to find anyone truly sincere about their feelings. "Give me some time, Brian," I said quietly. Brian nodded gently. "Alright. I'll wait." After getting home, I saw the long email that Queenie sent to me. Every word she wrote was full of remorse, saying that she regretted losing me as a close friend, and there was nothing else she could say to me aside from apologizing again and again. I stared at the email for a long time. Misty sighed and said, "A mistake is a mistake, and there's no use regretting it because nothing can be undone."

Her eyes were wider than ever as pain tore through every nerve in her body. When he finally found her heart, he held it in his hand. T-Murek was puzzled when he didn’t feel any heartbeat. He looked up at her face and was utterly disappointed to see that her eyes were closed. T-Murek gave her a gentle slap on the chin. She felt lifeless and cold. She was already dead, and it devastated him. He forcefully dragged her heart out and left it to hang from her chest.

"I don't?" "No, you don't. Because. Well...because I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart. It was scarred and fragile, but I gave it to someone who saw worth in it anyway. A woman who cherished every imperfection and did his best to hold all the fragmented pieces together. I've been walking around without my heart for so many years, I learned to ignore its absence. I became accustomed to the hole in my chest. But I can't ignore the missing part of me any longer. And you can't marry an incomplete man. You deserve a man who still has a heart to give you. So, I'm sorry...but I can't marry you."

It had grown and now she had moonflowers on her table and diamonds on her finger and a castle with her name on the gates. What do I have? The answer came to me slowly, painfully, like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. You have a failing heart because you gave your real one away. Three years ago, Blake had collapsed during a hunt. Heart failure, the healers said. He was dying, and there was only one cure, a transplant from a compatible donor. I was a perfect match. I didn't hesitate and gave him my heart without his knowledge. I touched the necklace one last time.