ruby forbes . d1 . 8th games . fin

"What is their name?"

The hushed hum of machines had become a constant in your life. The quiet beeping of the heart monitor beside you sung a new rhythm. You watched as the lines danced in time with the heart that beat inside your chest. It was strong and steady. You press your hand against your chest, careful to avoid the fresh stitches that traveled the length of your sternum. You could almost feel its pulse through the skin and bone and muscles that encased it. An unfamiliar feeling.

It was not yours. The heart. It was an odd feeling to know that this heart- your heart, didn't really belong to you.

Your heart had failed you. Disease ate away at it until it couldn't beat on its own. First they tried to give it a battery of sorts. Your mother had said that the small device they had inserted was supposed to give your heart a rest until it could beat on its own once again. 

But it seemed that the disease that ate away at your very center had had different plans. The battery was defeated in battle, and your heart lost the war. 

"Ruby, don't worry about that right now. You need to rest-"

Your mother sat in the chair beside you, her hand wrapped tightly around yours. "Please. I want- I need to know."

The heart- your heart- seems to beat harder, its vibrations reaching your fingers. It was odd, you knew that you should be grateful for it. But you couldn't shake the feelings of disgust and regret and sadness and shame that washed over you as you watched the lines on the ECG jump in a steady pattern. Someone had died so that you could live.

Had you stolen their life?

"How did- why did they no longer need it?"

Your mothers faces softens, and she climbs into the bed beside you, holding you close the way she used to when you were just a child. "Betty," she whispers into the crown of your head, sweeping the hair from your eyes.

Betty.

"There was an accident." Your hand tightens over its position over Betty's heart. "They couldn't save her."

Your eyes begin to blur as the tears begin to form. You weep for Betty, pressing your face into your mothers chest, carefully pressing both hands to the place above your heart, protecting it.

"I promise I'll take care of it," you whisper to your heart, to Betty's heart. "I promise."