If I Shall Wake
by Desi D
The pain in my chest spiked. It had been progressively getting worse despite the fact I’d been taking those damn horse pills every single day. All the doctors agreed; I needed a new heart and soon. I should be taking it easy, avoiding stress; while coming up with 1.4 million dollars for the transplant before my old pump gave out.
My fucking insurance determined this was a preexisting condition; their CEOs behind the decision were lucky that my focus had to be on earning money for my new heart. However, once I got my transplant, I planned on fitting each of those bastards with a body bag because of their preexisting condition of being assholes.