Heartbeats Scrubs Novels & Stories

A round head, tiny arms and legs moving ever so slightly, a perfect, unmistakably human silhouette. "Oh my God," I whispered, tears immediately flooding my eyes. Christian's grip on my hand tightened, but when I looked over at him, he was completely still, eyes locked on the screen, awe written all over his face. "And now," Dr. Sandra said, pressing a few buttons, "let's listen to the heartbeat." The sound that filled the room was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. Fast, steady, strong—a tiny heart pounding at around a hundred and fifty beats per minute, like the rhythmic gallop of a horse.

A woman's voice, ragged and desperate, tore through the line. "H-help me. Beverly, help! I can save you—I'm the only one who can create a 3D-printed heart, the only one who can save you. I-I'm the cardiothoracic specialist Chief Bronson found for you. With your heart, you only have three years left. Without me, you won't survive. Save me, please!" The call was abruptly cut off. Beverly tried to call back, but the other end was already powered off.

Quentin stared at the monitor without blinking. 10 seconds, 20 seconds, 30 seconds… Suddenly, that chaotic waveform paused ever so slightly. Then, little by little, it began to fall back into place. My heartbeat slowly found its rhythm again, like someone drowning finally catching hold of a rope. In the operating room next door, the alarm blaring from Aiden's artificial heart gradually faded as well. "The calibration's back!" a doctor exclaimed in delight. Helena braced herself against the glass. Tears flooded her eyes all at once. "They're alive…"

Then he pulled me forward by my waist and touched his lips to my ear, sending dangerous tingles down my body. "Don't miss me too much sweetheart." What was he doing to me? Swayer's POV | was So pumped about tonight. It was the first competition of the year and | was excited for every bit. | loved the sound of the crowd cheering for me and the loud music blasting from the overhead speakers, but mostly | liked having Penelope here. | don't know what it is with her, but when | held her hand in mine, sharp pleasant sensations went up through my arms. What is wrong with me?

Cameron was standing outside Marissa’s door, trying to build the courage to ring the doorbell. After a deep breath, when he was about to touch the bell, someone called from behind, causing him to have a mini heart attack. “Cameron,” “Fuck! Marissa, you scared the shit out of me.” He exclaimed loudly, one hand on his heart and breathing deeply. “I am sorry, but why are you standing outside my door?” She asked him curiously. Today, Marissa was late coming home as she had to run to the grocery store, so it was unusual for her to see her student uncle standing in front of her doorstep in all his glory.

I walked calmly, keeping my heart and body in check for a minute until I was totally out of sight from her and now in the men's restroom. My entire body dropping flat at the sound of the door clucking shut, the thrumming of my heart exploded into a frantic shock, beating rapidly. *Thump. Thump. Thump.* “Fuck! That was so close,” I sighed underneath my breath, scraping out from total exhaustion, my eyes trailed down my shirt which was perfectly buttoned up. Honestly, I wonder what that girl is sometimes, how was she able to see these stupid hickeys on my chest? I took a deep breath, slowly calming my heart down, as my mind was still frozen in total chaos.

They seemed inseparable. My heart was torn apart as pain hit me in broken pieces. One was my husband of two years, and the other was my best friend since college years. Hudson had been born with a heart condition. He now had the heart of Quincey's boyfriend, Maverick Goldstein, who had died in a car crash. After the surgery, Hudson insisted he was Maverick. I forced a smile and set a container of healthy food on the table next to the hospital bed. "Quincey, I spent three hours making this food. Make sure Hudson eats it."

But her body stiffened slightly anyway. Because she felt it. Shift in tone. Shift in purpose. The room felt different again. Like something had been decided outside of her awareness. He looked at her directly. “We’re going to show you something,” he said. Keisha frowned. “What?” He didn’t answer immediately. Instead— He tapped the device on the table. A screen flickered on. Keisha’s stomach dropped instantly. Because it wasn’t random data. It was footage. ⸻ A street. Alabama Avenue.

It was as if time had frozen for me for four years, with only the heart transplant scar on my chest standing as a brutal reminder of the truth. Kendrick dropped to his knees before the refrigerated coffin, the sound of his knees smashing against the floor tiles making everyone shudder. His fingers trembled as they brushed against the glass coffin lid, but curled up at the exact instant they were about to touch my face. "Jasmine!" Kendrick's voice cracked and rasped, as if it were forced out with difficulty from his shattered lungs.

I answer, unsure. “You’re not even aware?” I scratch my head in embarrassment, and he sighed in response. “You’re too conscious of what’s around you. You’re not paying attention to your own sound at all, idiot.” Idiot? “Here. Let’s try again, only up to here.” He points at the first rest of the arrangement. “This time, don’t listen to anything else besides your own. Okay? One, two, three–” We started playing one more time. I was so scared when we synced at the first measurement, but I tried as hard as I could to listen only to my sound. I didn’t even look up. I was just staring down on the drums after we reached the first rest.