Until Your Heart Stops Novels & Stories

"And then?" "Then my heart will either stop completely or beat so chaotically that it can't pump blood. I'll lose consciousness. Without immediate intervention—CPR, defibrillator—I'll be dead in minutes." His hands clench on his desk. "That's what happened to my father. He collapsed mid-stride. No warning. Just gone. By the time the pack reached him, it was too late." The clinical description makes it worse somehow. Like he's already resigned himself to it.

“It begins slow. Fatigue. Weakness no one can explain. Then your body starts failing—organ by organ—and no one can figure out why.” His voice dropped even further. “In the final stage… your body can’t hold it anymore.” The air in the room felt thinner. Harder to breathe. “You start bleeding,” he continued, his tone grim. “From everywhere. Nose. Mouth. Eyes. Even your skin.” My heart slammed violently in my chest. No. No— “Your bones weaken. Your body breaks down. And in the end…” His voice went quiet. “Your heart gives out.” The world tilted. Every word hit like a punch to the ribs.

“Please.” They stepped into an empty classroom. The silence stretched. “I feel like I am losing you,” Eli said finally. Noah closed his eyes briefly. “I am still here,” Noah said. “I am just tired.” “Tired of me?” Eli asked. Noah opened his eyes. “Tired of waiting without knowing where the ground is.” Eli swallowed. “I never asked you to wait.” “No,” Noah said. “You just made it the only option.” The truth of it landed hard.

The whole of me comes to a still paralysis, as the apocalypse initiates, bringing the perfect world Caden and I have built these past weeks to judgment day. Dad’s utterance has enough force over me, dominating each side of me, above and beyond. The pressure claims victory over my frail body. I feel the phone slip from my hand and fall somewhere around Madison’s car. What comes with it is full extinction. My heart stops beating this time in an instant. I believe I die, or I’m very close to it, because my eyes shut and everything goes blank.

—beeeeeeeeeeeee— Everything stops. My breath. My heart. Time itself. “Leon…?” Silence answers. Cold. Endless. And the last thing I see— before everything fades— is his body going completely still. No movement. No pulse. No life. And the terrifying realization hits me— this time… he might not come back.

Heart isn't beating. But mind is screaming. Still here. Still conscious. Still fighting. Then something changes. Awareness sharpens. Sound gets clearer. Isla's voice. "Wait. There's residual brain activity. She's not fully gone." "What?" Callum. Desperate. Hopeful. "Clinical death. Heart stopped. Breathing stopped. But brain's still functioning. We have maybe five minutes before it's permanent." "Then do something! Restart her heart! Give her CPR! Anything!"

You're left so alone that you can't explain. You've got to dance like there's nobody watching, love like you'll never be hurt, sing like there's nobody listening, and live like it's heaven on earth. Well, do I believe in that faint breath of a word that is called a miracle? It will take me some more convincing, but what has just happened is rather a good start. My dad just had a peak in his heart rhythm, which means that goddamn machine beat a bit faster than it has for the past three days.

Your heart goes from being a plump, red, important puzzle piece in your body, beating in glee, to an ice-cold, stone organ, that beats just out of necessity, so you won't end up seeing darkness forever. But most of all, it's broken. In pieces. You have no idea whether it can be bandaged up again. Can someone do that? Out of the 7.6 billion in this world, will that someone have the power to heal your heart? I checked the time: 6:30. "Well, there's no hope of me going back to sleep so might as well wake up now." I rubbed my face before heading to my bathroom.

“I won't be coming; don't wait for me. I can’t just forget what happened that night, and I'm sorry for dumping you like this. This is a situation I have no control over. For a moment, a buzzing sound filled my ears, and I could no longer hear anything. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, with only the low, slow heartbeat as a reminder that I was still alive and that I hadn't been detached from this world. I looked at Vanessa's mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear or read what she was saying. My eyes are a little out of focus, and my pupils are also a little dilated, as if I were immediately dying. But the slow, firm beating heartbeat tells me that death is not so easy—this damn heart

"Final ten seconds on the countdown. Your body will now shut down, fully detaching from the mission world. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…" Their figures grew smaller and fainter until they disappeared entirely. I closed my eyes with peace, a smile of release curling my lips. When the system counted down the last number, my heart stopped—not another beat heard.