Open-Hart

   There are so many people on this planet. Millions of beating hearts waiting to die and they all are different. Like little special snowflakes. Veins, tendons, and muscle wrapping around their little engine that clicks and clanks. Oily and slick with their gasoline, blood. We can't live without this little apparatus in our chest. People use it in sayings and when they say "I love you", they mean it from the heart. It's not even connected to how you think, but it helps.

   Mine is broken. Not in a cheesy song kind of way. Literally. Valves in the wrong places. Holes. I have worn an oxygen mask from birth into my early 30's. My mom was a doctor and so was my dad. But they are both gone now and I am all alone. No husband or wife, no children or friends.

   My name is Emily Hart. Ironic, huh? I'm 32, and all I do is sleep these days. There is nothing to do. What can you do with a messed up heart? I'm looking for new blood. Not a new person, but actual blood. I have a special type of blood and I have lost a lot in surgery. They are searching now. They have been doing it for months. I am slowly getting worse.

   When my nurse stumbled into my hospital room, I immediately noticed the needle. " More blood. Are you drinking it, Amma?" I said and held up my bruised arm. She sighed and bared her yellow teeth at me. I laugh, regretting it. A sharp pain shot through my chest and I cried out and lay back down. Amma lay a cool cloth on my pasty forehead and took blood. She spoke soothing words to me while fixing my I.V. and filling it with new medicine.

"It'll be alright, baby." She said stroking my head with her wrinkly hands. I let slow cold tears flow down my cheek falling into my mouth. I didn't dare move from the impression I had left on my memory foam bed. I know that I had gotten that bed because they didn't have much hope for me. I don't have much hope for me neither.

"I haven't been anyones baby for a long time." She chuckled."Have they found anything?" I looked up at her. Amma crinkled her eyes downwards and held one of my skinny hands in both of hers. My stomach twisted up with anxiety and acid.

   "You are special, baby. Nobody has your blood type. No matter how much we search we won't be able to find anything to help. I don't want you to suffer." A few ugly tears slid down her brown cheek and dropped off her chin onto the sheets. "Your body is rejecting your heart. We will make you comfy." I pass out.

   Blurring images race past my eyes, so quickly I can barely see them. My mom...mommy, with her thick brown hair and green eyes. Just like me.

   My funeral is short.