My Heart Rots Inside My Brother's Chest

Summary

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.