Heart's Response

'Are you sure, Rhea?' asks my mother.

'Of course, I'm. Survival of the fittest, mother. I'm not going against Darwin. Also, I don't want unnecessary scars on my body.'

It's a known fact that we are all born to die. And frankly, I don't understand why it has to be made into such a big deal. If it were not for my mother I would have said that to the bunch of people outside my house, some of them with young kids, shouting slogans, waving placards, literally wanting me to cut one of my beating hearts out. "Save A Life. Donate!" they shout.

For someone who is one in billions, 7.125 billion to be exact, I expect to be treated better. Scientists are still befuddled regarding my condition that gave me two hearts in my mother's womb. But years of research and sticking needles into me have led them nowhere, and they have labelled me as a freak mutation. It's so rare - literally one in all humankind - that they didn't even name the anomaly (as they call it, I will call it awesomeness). I wanted to name the condition myself, something on the lines of Rhea's Heartsawesome but the doctors aren't thrilled with the suggestion. Instead, they want to cut one of them out and save a life. Huh?

An IQ of 180, increased concentration, exceptional athleticism and a phenomenal metabolism rate - are just the few boring benefits of an increased blood circulation. Why would I ever give that up?

Well, why would I ever give that up? Except, well, except for saving a life? Being too good is bad but being too bad is not good either. But I am determined. They want me to cut my potential. They want to harm me somehow. They do not want me to do as well as I could in life! I am angry at them.Who are they to ask for my heart? Did I owe anyone anything? Not at all! It is mine after all.

I say to my mother:''Look, mom, howsoever freakish you think me to be, I am not giving up my second heart. No matter what happens!''

And so, after saying this, I storm out of the room that overlooks the street. My mother looks at me, concerned, but I don't care. I enter my room and violently close the door behind me. With a bang. If they knew my temper, I think, they would have shuddered. But no one shudders at me. They all wait; they all watch. Expectant. Greedy. Malicious.

Just so that I can justify myself, I switch my laptop on and search for people with ailing hearts. The search results don't surprise me. The links that are provided are just the same as for any disease. The same note of death and pain ring through it that does of any other disease. For a person who lost her grandfather due to a heart attack; these things are not anything grave and mysterious that I do not understand.

Just then I look out of my bedroom window and a beautiful boy just my age looks at me. He has a poster with a slogan on SAVE MY MOTHER'S LIFE, PLEASE RHEA I slam the window shut and start crying bitterly. Why do the tears come? They come from the torment that I have suffered at the hands of the public. And then slowly, sleep overtakes me.

When I wake up, its evening already. I look out of the window again and there I see the boy. Everyone else has gone away but the boy is still there. I look at the poster: PLEASE RHEA. And then my conscience takes over. Quickly summoning my mother to the room, I ask her to bring the boy in. As soon as he comes in, he looks awkwardly, shyly at me.

''You don't know what my mother is going through, Rhea,'' he says. Something in his tone tells me that I need to show sympathy towards him. And I ask him:''What is your name?''

''Don't care about my name, please! My mother suffers from dilated cardiomyopathy. She needs a transplant. I don't want her to die! Please help!'' With that he falls to his knees by my bed. My mother makes a concerned noise, but I hush her up. I look at him.

The very next day, I get ready for the transplant. After the successful operation, I feel weak. And there comes the boy by my hospital bedside.''What is your name?''I smile at him. He takes hold of my hand(I am grateful my mother was not there) and thanks me a thousand times over before telling me:"My name, Rhea, is Shashank.'' He smiles at me.

''Is your mother all right Shashank?'' I ask him.

''Yes,'' he says.''And all because of you.''

And then he does something that causes me to blush deeply. He takes hold of my hand and kisses it. Oh, I wish he would stop doing it. After all, he is very good-looking.

Ans so begins the story.

Author's Note

How is it folks?

Reviews

[Solar]

''something on the lines of Rhea's Heartsawesome but the doctors aren't thrilled with the suggestion.

So Rhea's got this awesome anamoly - and everyone want's a piece of it and Shashank's mother gets it, giving her life. As always, a story can be interpreted in different ways by the reader.
Your story flows well - touching on matters of the head and heart. As you bring in Darwin, one reflects on the nature of the Selfish Gene [Dawkins] in the context of altruistic action.