Rejection

Death was not fun. But then I got another chance, a chance to live again, to work again, to be part of a whole again. Needless to say, I gave it my all. I bled oceans of blood, went through unimaginable pain, was thrust into a strange new world, but it was worth it, for at the end of it all, I was one with them.

For a time, I was happy. But then the accusations started. That I was different, an alien, not one of them. I didn't belong. I should go back to where I came from. Things got heated. They sent their white blooded thugs to attack me. I weakened. I couldn't work the way I used to. It literally felt like they were tearing me apart.

I did my best. I tried to ignore them, to focus on myself, on my work. Every time they raised the heat, every time they marked me as foreign, I rallied, a weary soldier marching to his drumbeat. But I was only one, and they were many. Their bullets ate away at me.

I couldn't understand it. I knew they needed me. Why couldn't they see that by hurting me they were only hurting themselves? I could see the damage they were doing to themselves but I was helpless to stop them. Once again, I was dying, and I was taking them with me.

I was on my last beats when a blinding light appeared in the darkness. I felt hope pump through me. But I was deceived. A searing pain ripped through me, and I was pulled into the light. Examined and deemed useless, I was tossed onto a silver tray. With a last shudder, I lay still, blood oozing out of me, a failed transplant, a rejected heart.