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from Don't Let Go by Karla Martinez

Copyright © 2019 Karla Martinez

Trash

As always. My weekly routine started with a regular visit to Doctor Jackson's office. Spending the first three hours of my day doing X- rays, letting the nurses take the last drops of blood out of me. It hurt when I was little, but now I almost didn't feel anything anymore. Really, if my illness wasn't killing me, all the waste of blood, the pain and stress were doing a good job.

Doctor Jackson kept explaining to me about the surgery I would be taking. To my surprise, he already had a date. He was excited about the hope and to have it sooner than later. It made me happy to see him happy for me, and for himself. In the end, he wasn't just a doctor to me. For always taking part in lecturing me for killing myself every time for not being able to control my heart. Taking the surgery was like the last stage to our relationship.

Sometimes I wondered if by having a heart transplant, my feelings for Cameron would change? Or was it like my health teacher once told us. Love was a brain thing, not a something the heartfelt. Getting the answers from Doctor Jackson, who was like family was better than just be wondering myself. Though, it was embarrassing to ask. I wanted to consider all possibilities.

"There's the possibility of changing a person's lifestyle after the organ adapts to the person's DNA, and because of that, your personality and the things you usually do, you need to make some changes." Doctor Jackson explained patiently, his eyes on the results of my usual tests.

"And what happens to that organ? My heart..." I struggled a little, wondering what would happen to my heart. Where would it end up, would they destroy it, or donated for more testing on my disease. Doctor Jackson placed the dashboard on his desk and looked directly at me. His eyes were extremely tired. My heart reacting to his glare. His deep brown eyes were clear but exhausted.

"Unfortunately, that organ. Your heart..." he clarified.

"Is not working anymore, so, it would get disposed on..." he said in a gentle pitiful dreadful voice. He felt sorry for me, that was very clear to me, but he was the only one I could accept pity from.

"Trash?" I asked my voice just a soft sound.

His eyes turn sad and nodded. A knot formed in my throat. Would I love Cameron the same, would I still want his kisses, his touch, would I still love his voice? The thought just made me extremely sad, because it was like going back in time before I met him. The time I knew nothing, when my life had no meaning, when I didn't know what love was, it was painful to even think...











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