Silent Agony

SILENT AGONY

Lightning flashed through the window. The rumbling thunder woke the man laying on the cold, steel gurney. He moaned as he opened his eyes and became conscious of his intense headache. Where was he? He struggled as he realized his arms and legs were restrained with leather straps.

“Stay still!” commanded the nurse with the cold, black eyes.

“Where am I?” he asked weakly.

“A hospital,” the nurse said. “Now don’t move.”

The man glanced at the dirty concrete walls and musty ceiling. The hospital? A petite woman in a red dress came through the doorway and approached the nurse with a thick manila envelope.

“Is he a match?” the woman asked.

“He is,” the nurse said. “His heart is healthy and strong. We’re ready to go if you have the final payment.”

The woman handed the nurse the envelope. The nurse peeked in, making sure she saw a stack of cash, a set of keys, and the title to a Mercedes-Benz.

“Good,” the nurse said. “I’ll call you when your husband is out of surgery.”

The woman left as the nurse picked up a syringe filled with yellow liquid. As she injected it into the man’s arm, he began to gasp and convulse. It felt as if there was a trail of fire running through his veins.

A doctor in a long white coat walked through the door and began to scrub his hands at the corner sink.

“Did you receive payment?” he asked.

“Yes. In full,” the nurse said.

“Good,” he said as he put on his gloves and pushed the gurney into the next room. “Let’s begin the transplant.”

The man on the gurney tried to move, but his body felt as if it was weighted down with lead. He could still feel every sensation, including fear. He couldn’t even move his lips or tongue to utter a sound.

In the O.R., the doctor ran his sharp scalpel down the man’s chest. The man tried to scream in agony, but the room was completely silent.