Warning: descriptions of blood and violence

Patient Number One: Lucia Espinosa.

Time since transplant surgery: 6 days.

Sophie stayed the night after the block party, and they’re having a lazy morning. “Are you still up with meeting some of my old college friends today? There will only be four of them, and you can leave whenever you need to. We’re only going to the park.” Sophie asks Lucia.

Lucia is quiet for a moment. “I…” she trails off.

“Hey,” Sophie takes Lucia’s hands. I feel Lucia’s heart skip and she blushes slightly. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ve told you about them before, and I’ve told them about you. They’ll understand if you can’t come with me today, but they’re looking forward to meeting you.”

Lucia sighs, before steeling herself and saying, “Yeah. I said I’d go, and I’ll go. It’s time I started coming out of my shell, right? New heart, new me?” Lucia still seems nervous despite the brave face she’s putting on.

Sophie smiles, squeezing Lucia’s hands. “New heart, improved you. Come on, let’s get ready.”

After half an hour, the girls are heading off to meet with Sophie’s friends. They go slowly, with Sophie constantly giving Lucia reassuring smiles. They finally reach the park, and some people call out to Sophie as they do.

“Hey Soph! This must be Lucia! We’ve heard so much about you, it’s great to finally meet you!” a tall guy with dreads steps forward. “I’m Dwayne. This is Pete, Sandy, and Lily.” He gestures to the other three standing there, who wave in turn.

“H-hi.” Lucia stutters, eyes constantly flicking between the ground and the faces of the people standing in front of her. She’s fiddling with the sleeves of her top, wringing the fabric in her hands. Sophie gently puts her hand on Lucia’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The six of them move further into the park and sit down on the grass. Lucia sticks close to Sophie, but as time goes on and they start sharing embarrassing stories, laughing together, Lucia slowly starts to relax.

Seems she’s doing well. I think I’ll check to see how much damage to my liver that alcoholic bastard has done.

Patient Number Two: Mike Greene.

Time since transplant surgery: 6 days.

Ugh, why is everything so foggy, and cloudy. There’s this ringing in my ears. Great. He’s hungover from the night before.

I can just about make out Mike’s apartment. He made it back somehow then.

Mike groans as he slowly comes to consciousness. A bright light suddenly appears, making Mike cry out in pain and turn away.

“Come on, Greene. Get a hold of yourself. Or do I need to dunk your head in the shower again.” Major Peters is here, and he looks angry. He’s standing next to an open pair of curtains, the source of the sudden light.

“Ugh.” Mike coughs, before proceeding to vomit into the trash can conveniently placed by the side of the bed.

Major Peters sighs. “What happened, Greene. I thought you were getting help.”

“I was. I was clean. Kind of clean, anyway. I hadn’t touched a drop of the stuff for nearly three months.” Mike grunted, as he attempted to sit up.

Major Peters came forward to help him. “I also thought you were only in the hospital for a minor thing.”

Mike looked blearily up at Major Peters, not quite following him.

“I found these in the medicine cabinet. Had to look ‘em up, I admit, but they’re transplant meds. I called the hospital. You had a bloody liver transplant! Why the Hell didn’t you tell any of us?! And why the Hell did you go out on a bender last night!” Major Peters gets louder as his rant continues, ending up yelling the last sentence in Mike’s face.

“Alright! So, I relapsed! Willis is dead! How long ‘til the rest of us follow suit? How much longer do I have to suffer the memories and nightmares?!” Mike breaks down, his head in his hands. “If I had stayed, if I hadn’t left the core, I’d have been over there and maybe Willis wouldn’t be dead! I got him killed, just like I got Lewis killed! Just like I got Poppy killed! My darling Poppy! My- My-!” Mike’s sobs take over until he can no longer form words, gasping through his tears.

Major Peters sits next to Mike and puts an arm round his shoulder, holding him tightly. “Easy, soldier. Easy. Let it out. Let it out. None of their deaths was your fault. None of this is your fault.” Major Peters keeps on repeating those phrases, rocking with Mike until he slowly started to calm down. “Ok. This is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna get on that plane, go to Willis’ funeral. But afterwards, you’re staying with me, not coming back here. Someone should keep an eye on you. I’ll take you to AA meetings, get you seen by a therapist. I’m gonna get you help, ok soldier? Just ‘cause you’re a civilian now, doesn’t mean it’s no longer my job to look after you. Our old squad, we’re brothers, and we stick together, you got that?”

“Yes, sir.” Mike says, no longer able to argue.

Damn. I feel bad for judging this guy so harshly.

Patient Number Three: Richard Wilkes.

Time since transplant surgery: 6 days.

Why do I keep coming back to this creep? I can’t keep blaming it on sick curiosity. Maybe if I’m watching, nothing bad will happen. That’s what I’ll keep telling myself, anyway.

He’s standing in an alleyway. Ugh, why do creeps always wait in alleyways? Wait, I think I recognise this street. He’s opposite the hospital! Ugh, does he never quit? Leave her alone you disgusting trash pile!

Oh no, she’s walking this way! Go! Cross the road! Go in the opposite direction! You’re in danger!

She’s outside the entrance to the alleyway.

He’s grabbing her arm, pulling her towards him. He’s got his hand over her mouth. She’s struggling against him.

He cries out in pain as she bites his hand. She backs away, pulling a switchblade out of her purse. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll scream. I’m gonna call the police, so you better leave.” Her voice is shaking, her hands are trembling, her knuckles are white as she’s got a vice grip on the blade.

“Heh, what are you gonna do with that butter knife, princess? Who are you, to say no to me?”

Nurse Anna turns to run, screaming. Her scream is cut short as Richard grabs her, once more putting his hand over mouth. He pulls her further back into the alleyway, out of sight of the few pedestrians on the street. The switchblade clatters to the ground.

He grunts as she headbutts him, and grunts again as she drives her elbow into his rib cage. She stomps on his foot and finally breaks free from his grasp. He dives for her as she begins to run, both of them falling to the ground, rolling over each other.

Anna, the knife! Grab the knife!

She’s reaching out towards it.

He reaches it first, his fist closing around the handle.

“I’ll teach you a lesson for thinking you can say no to me.”

She’s screaming.

The knife is plunging down.

There’s blood.

No!

I can’t stop him. I can’t do anything!

Can’t someone do something?!

Shouts from the street. The murderer stands up, running away from his crime. The blood is pooling.

My view is being dragged after the murderer.

I can’t watch anymore.

I won’t watch patient number three anymore.

Patient Number Four: Joanna Yang.

Time since transplant surgery: 6 days. She’s just going through the motions, wasting time until she can go back to work on Monday.

Patient Number Five: Lena Bleu.

Time since transplant surgery: 6 days. Playing the same games, reading the same stories, living the same isolated life.

I feel like I’m just going through the motions, checking in on other patients, after just witnessing something so awful.

What am I doing. Did I really think I’d be able to help? I’m just watching these transplant patients because I was too stubborn to just let go of my old life.

Maybe if I found some way to communicate with the recipients of my organs. Hell, Joanna’s a cop! If I was just able to tell her what I saw!

Who am I kidding? If I suddenly started talking to these people, they’d think they were going insane.

Wait…

That old woman at Lucia’s party, Laurie, was it? She could see me. Or least, see the shadow of me. Could she help? I think a new plan is forming…