Farewell, My Heart
When the nurse pulled the IV needle out of the back of my hand, her gaze was filled with pity.
“Mr. Young, the heart meant for your transplant was transferred at the last minute. It was sent to the VIP ward on the seventh floor. It’s a shame, but all your pre-operation prep has gone to waste.”
Marcus Stewart was warded on the seventh floor. He was the frail young man my sister brought home.
Ten minutes ago, Marcus suddenly had terrible chest pain. My usually strong mother burst into tears. My stoic father slammed the table in front of every expert in the hospital, then decided to give Marcus the heart I had been waiting three years for. It was supposed to save my life.
I hurried to the end of the corridor, but the green operating light had already come on.
Clutching the twisting pain in my chest, I leaned against the ice-cold wall and slid to the floor.
There was no need to wait anymore.
My heart failure was terminal. The doctor said I would not last the next few days.
The mechanical voice sounded in my head. [Master, your vital signs are rapidly deteriorating. If you terminate this body and leave this world now, you still have a chance at a new life. Would you like to proceed?]
I looked at the faint grey hue of death tinging my fingertips.
“...Yes.”
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