Oliver closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the beating of his heart. Or rather, his brother’s heart. Despite his desperate need, he’d been reluctant to accept the transplant from his recently deceased sibling, who’d done such terrible things.
In the end, however, the doctors’ assurances had won out, and he’d gone ahead with the life-saving procedure. A heart, they’d insisted, was just a bit of flesh.
Opening his eyes, Oliver noted how the blood on his hands was darkening as it dried, and how the knife no longer trembled in his grip.
Doctors don’t know everything.
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