Romans & histoires Until Your Heart Stops

“Tick-tock, tick-tock, your time is almost up. Your end is near.” My heart dropped at this.

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

"His heart's quivering, someone get me a defibrillator!" What do they mean by my heart's quivering? Why can I hear all of this but can't see anything? "Clear!" And then comes the shock. I can almost feel my spirit leave my body. My lips part in protest but warm air just feels my lungs instead. The shock comes again....and again. My heart jerks sharply as someone says my heartbeat is steady now. The voices begin to fade, leaving the distinct sounds of cars and honking. The darkness is replaced by a piercing white light and my entire body system seems to slowly roll to a stop.

My heart gave one last exhausted thump. And then I died.

One heartbeat to center myself. I step through. And the world explodes.

Voices shouting over each other. “He’s crashing—” “Get the crash cart—” “Starting compressions—” Compressions. That meant my heart had stopped. That meant I was dead. See? the darkness whispered, triumphant. It’s over. Let go. No. Let go, Knox. There’s nothing left to fight for.

The heart attack, when it came, was not a dramatic, crushing fist. It was a sudden, profound system failure, a quiet short-circuit in the machine that had run at peak efficiency for so long. There was no pain, just a wave of immense, weighted stillness, a feeling of circuits disconnecting all at once.

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.”

“But you seem to be mistaken. I am not what strengthens his heart.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air, my gaze unwavering. “I am what keeps it beating. And a word of advice: you should be far more concerned about what happens when it stops.”

“Stop…I don’t…” “No, I think you do. You see, my heart most likely is going to stop multiple times. I may need to be resuscitated, multiple times. But at some point, my body won’t be strong enough to walk or even sit up in bed. My whole body will look like it’s been in a fist fight that I’ve lost. I’ll throw up more blood than I can even replace.