My Heart Rots Inside My Brother's Chest

I died on my 18th birthday. The woman who sliced open my chest with a scalpel was my mother, Erika Buckley, one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons in the country. The man who pushed the anesthetic to keep me from struggling was my father, Marcus Buckley, a renowned chief anesthesiologist. They calmly removed my warm heart and transplanted it into my brother, Caleb Buckley, whose chest was already cut wide open. I had always been his blood bank and his spare organ bank. Little did they know, my soul was floating above them, watching as my heart began to rot inside Caleb's chest. Chapter 1 I floated in mid-air, watching everything unfold below. The shadowless surgical lights cast a harsh, blinding glare onto my bloodless face. Erika Buckley calmly covered my face with a surgical drape. She turned to my father and said, "Marcus, hurry up. Don't keep Caleb waiting." Caleb Buckley was my brother. He lay on another operating table nearby, his chest cut wide open, waiting for my heart. Marcus Buckley nodded, his hands trembling slightly. He picked up a large black medical waste bag and expertly stuffed my body inside. The heavy plastic rustled softly against my cold skin. I was the adopted daughter of the Buckley family. When I was ten, Caleb fell down the stairs and split his head open. Without hesitation, Erika held me down while Marcus drew blood from my arm to save him. My vision went black, and I collapsed onto the floor. When I woke up, they were huddled around Caleb's bed, showering him with care while not a soul looked at me. From that day on, I became Caleb's dedicated blood bank. ... Erika picked up a high-pressure sprayer and began rinsing my blood off the operating table. The water rushed violently down the drain, carrying away every trace of my blood. She cleaned it so meticulously and so thoroughly. "Emily finally proved her worth," she muttered, her cold voice sending a shiver through my soul. Beside her, Caleb's heart monitor emitted a steady, powerful rhythm. A sense of relief finally washed over Marcus and Erika, and they smiled so happily. It was an expression I had never seen on their faces before. At least, it had never been directed at me. Ever since we were kids, Caleb had loved competing with me for everything: toys, snacks, and even hugs from Erika. Once, he broke my favorite doll, and I cried. Erika walked over, but instead of comforting me, she slapped me hard across the face. "You're the older sister! Why can't you just let your brother have it?" In reality, I was the younger sister. To make Caleb feel justified in taking my blood, they lied to everyone, claiming I was two years older than him. ... Marcus dragged the bag containing my corpse out to the garage. He was going to drive to the hospital where he worked and throw my body into the incinerator designated for medical waste. My soul floated after him, desperately trying to touch his hand, but my fingers passed right through him. There was nothing I could do. That sense of helplessness hurt worse than the scalpel cutting through my chest. The garage door rolled up slowly, and Marcus started the car. I watched the black trash bag get tossed into the trunk. I had never really been their daughter. I was just medicine—a cure used to save their beloved son. Erika walked into Caleb's room and gently tucked the blanket around his shoulders, her eyes brimming with maternal love. My soul floated beside her, greedily soaking in the sight. She had never looked at me like that. Not even once. I remembered a time when I had a burning fever, so delusional that I reached out, wanting her to hold me. She just shoved me away with disgust. "Don't spread your germs to us!" Despair and icy coldness had engulfed me back then, and now that I was dead, the feeling was only sharper. I didn't follow Marcus's car. My soul floated back down to that subterranean operating room. Caleb's diseased, failing heart was tossed carelessly into a stainless-steel tray. It had stopped beating, its tissue dark and decayed. I stared down at it coldly. ... The next day, Caleb woke up. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting slanting shadows across his face. His fingers twitched, and then his eyes snapped open. "I... I'm still alive?" he murmured in disbelief. Erika walked in carrying a bowl of soup, her face lit up with a smile. "Of course, you're alive, sweetheart! How could I ever let you die?" Chapter 2 Erika fed Caleb soup spoon by spoon, her movements impossibly gentle. Caleb took a sip and let out a deep sigh of relief. Feeling the powerful thumping inside his chest, he grinned from ear to ear. "Mom, this heart beats so hard! It feels way better than my old one!" Marcus walked in, a pleasing smile plastered on his face. "You bet! This was the best 'gift' we prepared for you." A gift. They called the heart they had stolen from me a gift. In that room, the three of them enjoyed their quiet family bliss, and not a single person brought up my name, as if I had never existed in this world at all. The phone on the bedside table rang. It was my homeroom teacher. "Hello, Mrs. Buckley? This is Bruno Salinas, Emily's homeroom teacher. Today is the final mock exam before the college entrance exam. Why isn't she here?" The smile on Erika's face vanished instantly, replaced by utter impatience. "Oh, Mr. Salinas," she said, her tone ice-cold. "That girl is going through a rebellious phase and ran off with some guy. It's shameful! We've already called the police. She is not our daughter anymore!" She hung up the phone without waiting for the teacher's response. I floated in the air, my chest throbbing with waves of pain, even though I no longer had a heart. Erika seemed to remember something. She walked into my bedroom, the tiny space I had lived in for 18 years. She yanked open the closet and pulled my clothes out piece by piece, tossing them onto the floor. Next came my books, my notebooks, and the trinkets I had hidden away. Finally, she picked up the only family photo on my nightstand. It was taken on my tenth birthday when I had begged them to take it with me. In the picture, the two of them crowded around Caleb, smiling radiantly, while I stood at the edge, looking timid. Erika looked at the photo, her brow furrowing slightly. Then, without a moment's hesitation, she tore the photo right down my neck. With a sharp rip, I was erased from the family entirely. She took the remaining half—the photo of their family of three—and carefully placed it back into the frame, as if that were how the family had been all along. My gaze fell on my mattress. Hidden underneath it was my diary. Ever since I was forced to give blood for the first time at ten years old, I had written everything down: every instance of abuse, every comment where they treated me like a spare part... It was the evidence of their crimes. Panicking, I tried to rush over and hide the diary. But now, I was only a soul, incapable of doing anything. Erika noticed the corner of the mattress sticking up. She walked over, lifted it, and pulled out the pink notebook. She flipped through a few pages, a sneer forming at the corners of her lips. "Ungrateful little thing! Holding grudges, are we?" With that, she stuffed the diary, along with all my other belongings, into a black trash bag. In the living room, Caleb was already able to walk. Supported by Marcus, he tried a few physical therapy exercises. "Dad! I feel like I could play basketball right now! I'm bursting with energy!" he exclaimed. The doorbell rang. It was Brigitte Roberson, our neighbor across the street, holding a beautiful birthday cake. "Dr. Buckley, yesterday was Emily's birthday, right?" she said warmly. "I baked a cake for her. I knocked yesterday, but nobody was home, so I brought it over today." Marcus opened the door. "That's very thoughtful of you." He took the cake and slammed the door shut without waiting for her to say another word. Turning around, he threw the cake straight into the trash can in the entryway. "Nosy old woman!" he muttered under his breath. My soul floated over, coming to rest on top of the crushed cake. The cold frosting smeared against my face. It was ironic that in this entire neighborhood, only a stranger remembered my birthday. ... Late into the night, the family of three was fast asleep. Suddenly, a muffled cough came from Caleb's room. He tossed and turned, muttering something incoherent. I floated over and saw a trace of dark red blood in the corner of his mouth. Erika woke up instantly and rushed into the room, nervously checking on him. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you feeling unwell?" "I'm fine, Mom. My throat just feels a bit itchy." Erika inspected him and let out a sigh of relief. "It's probably just a post-op reaction. Here, take the pills." Chapter 3 Erika gave Caleb some medicine and stayed by his side for a while longer before finally leaving the room. What she failed to notice was a small patch of rash that had developed on the arm Caleb had been scratching. The next morning, Caleb's blood-curdling scream shattered the peace of the estate. Marcus and Erika bolted up from their bed, sprinting straight into his room. Caleb was sitting on his bed in terror, pointing frantically at his body. "Mom! Dad! Look! What is this?" Large, purplish splotches covered his arms, his chest, and even his face. The rash had clustered together into horrific, sickening patches. "It's itching so badly! It hurts!" He clawed at himself frantically, but the harder he scratched, the faster the dark blotches spread across his skin. Erika, as a top cardiothoracic surgeon, recognized what it was in an instant. Her face drained of all color. "Hyperacute rejection... No way!" she muttered, her eyes wide with disbelief. "How is it possible? The match was perfect. I conducted the tests myself." "What rejection? Save me!" Caleb cried out. As soon as the words left his mouth, a purpuric patch of skin on his arm suddenly ruptured, oozing a trickling stream of blackened blood. His skin was beginning to rot. "Ahhh! My body is rotting! I'm turning into a monster!" Caleb looked at his decaying flesh, thrashing around the bed in agonizing, beast-like wails. The once handsome, arrogant boy was now transforming into a rotting mess right before their eyes. "I... I'm calling 911!" "No!" Erika snatched the phone right out of his hand and slammed it furiously onto the floor, shattering the screen into pieces. "We can't go to the hospital! Otherwise, we're finished!" The sanity in her bloodshot eyes was utterly consumed by madness. "I am the specialist! I can save him! I know I can!" Dragging and hauling, the two of them forced Caleb back down into the subterranean operating room. Erika pulled various expensive immunosuppressants from the cabinet, injecting massive doses directly into Caleb's body. Yet, it was useless. The tissue rejection swallowed Caleb's vitality with terrifying speed, his agonizing shrieks echoing throughout the house. ... At school, Bruno had been unable to reach me for days. He recalled Erika's bizarre claim about me, but the more he thought about it, the more suspicious it felt. Bruno knew exactly what kind of girl I was: timid, introverted, and deeply insecure. I barely even dared to speak loudly to boys, so how could I run off with some guy? Besides, the college entrance exam was right around the corner. Given my character, I would never abandon my future just like this. The more Bruno pondered it, the more uneasy he felt. Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the police. "Hello? I'd like to file a report. One of my students, Emily Buckley, has been missing. I suspect... something terrible has happened to her. Her parents are acting strangely!" Down in the basement, a thick, putrid stench of decay began to radiate from Caleb's body. Looking into the reflective mirror inside the operating room, he caught sight of his own face, which no longer resembled anything human. His sanity snapped entirely. "It's Emily! Her ghost is taking revenge on me! She's killing me!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs. Marcus and Erika froze, struck silent by his outburst. For a moment, they didn't know what to do. Just as the family was spiraling into chaos, consumed by desperation and terror, an urgent chime from the doorbell echoed sharply throughout the estate. Marcus flinched violently, scrambling on hands and knees to the front door. He peered through the peephole and saw two uniformed police officers standing outside, their expressions dead serious. Through the heavy oak door, one officer's stern voice carried in clearly. "This is the police department's Homicide Division. We received a report about Emily Buckley missing. Please, open the door and cooperate with our investigation!" The moment the officer finished speaking, another agonized scream echoed from the basement. The family was in turmoil, and there was nowhere left for them to run. I looked at my parents' ashen faces and sneered.