You Cannot Force A Dead Heart Novels & Stories

"Her heartbeat is weak and could stop at any moment. The patient is unconscious and in a deep coma, and the medicine injected has no effect anymore." Millie felt Harriet's weak pulse, barely detectable. Instead of saying she wanted to die by taking medicine, it was clearer to say she had lost the will to live. The doctor could help, but Harriet needed the desire to live as well. "Use the defibrillator," Millie instructed firmly. Mateo replied, "I had used the defibrillator on her, but it proved ineffective. She continues to remain in this weakened condition." "So? Are you saying you don't want to save her?" Millie asked.

Amelia asked, another sob escaping her lips. “Because every researcher and witch I have spoken to say if this Heavenly Heart truly existed and was as powerful as I’m claiming, it would be almost impossible to take the heart and keep it beating once it leaves its vessel. It would be easier if it was an immature heart and in the vessel of an infant. Still filled with light and purity. But it’s since aged and is even more powerful than we could ever imagine. Only the most elite and strongest beings on the earth can successfully take this heart out,” Penny scoffed. Amelia gasped.

His skin was pale, his breathing soft but steady with the help of an oxygen tube. Her father, however, hadn’t made it. The news shattered what little strength she had left, turning her world into something cold and unfamiliar. Elara could barely process the words. The sight tore a raw, animal scream from her throat. People were talking, their words muffled and distorted, but she couldn't register anything. The doctors’ words barely made sense to her, only one thing stuck: “We can save your brother and mother, but it’s going to require a lot of money.”

Jesse blinked at the gleaming marble floors, the crystal chandeliers, the fresh-cut orchids arranged like art installations. "You live here alone?" he asked. Alina walked ahead, heels tapping like a ticking clock. "Alone is underrated." As they passed through a gallery hallway-lined with modern art that probably cost more than his old neighborhood-Jesse stopped in front of a sculpture that looked like two twisted metal hearts. "What's this one called?" "'Affection Fatigue,'" Alina said dryly. "By a French artist who only works during breakups." "Cheerful." She shot him a look. "You'll get used to it. Come on."

It didn’t just stop because it wanted to. It ran out of fuel. Out of electrical signal. Like an engine without gas. That didn’t mean it couldn’t start again. Right? Unless— Unless he entered biological death. Unless his cells started dying beyond repair. If that happened— There would be no going back. My breathing quickened. No. No, I couldn’t let that happen. I had to work fast. I pressed my palm against his chest again. His heart just needed a spark. A chemical spark plug. Something to kickstart it again. “There’s still time,” I muttered to myself. There had to be. There had to be.

I didn't have a salary, talkless of money, to buy a heart. My head…my head's spinning, I can't breathe, I need

Gary asked. “Fuck, how do we kill dead people?” Jephta asked, looking panicked as they began walking towards us. I was glad that we were all on the same page about what needed to be done to them. “Well, make sure you take out their hearts,” I said. “The life-form of any creature ends when blood can no longer flow, and the key to making that happen is taking out their hearts.” “Well then, let's plug out some hearts, right?” Nyx sighed, and we met the already running mob of the dead pack on their territory.

He understood. I kept going, voice low, steady, and clinical. “A nick to the carotid artery, so small it takes minutes before you realize you’re bleeding out. A dose of potassium chloride—stops the heart instantly, and unless you’re looking for it, the autopsy reads cardiac arrest. Or, if I’m feeling merciful, just a few milliliters of air, slipped right into a vein. Harmless if it’s in the muscle. Fatal if it reaches the heart. You’d be dead before you even knew what hit you.” The table went silent.

It was as though thousands of needles pierced his body all at once, the pain sharp and unbearable. His ears rang. His heart felt like it might stop beating altogether. For a fleeting moment, Jayson desperately wished he had heard her wrong.

“I’m afraid not. If we attempt surgery, the chances of you surviving it are very low. For now, I can only prescribe medication to help reduce the pain.” “So it’s final?” My lips trembled. “In one year from now… I’ll be dead.” Saying the words out loud made everything feel real. “How does someone my age even get heart disease?” My voice cracked as I struggled to hold back my tears. The doctor sighed softly before opening the file in front of him. “Heart failure can happen for different reasons. Sometimes genetics. Sometimes severe emotional and physical stress over a long period of time.” My brows pulled together slightly. “Stress?”