"The Wrong Type" by Christopher Scott

The Wrong Type

by Christopher Scott

With her eyes finally resting, the mask bled away in a maelstrom of tears. I couldn’t believe I had any left. I watched my fourteen-year-old princess sleep in the hospital bed. Pretending everything was fine, that she was still fine, was all I could do for her. 

The doctor had taken my husband and me into a separate room yesterday. He told us that she was too far down on the transplant list, and her condition wasn’t improving fast enough. In desperation, we ran tests to see if our hearts would match, even though I knew they couldn’t perform the surgery if we were alive.

The doctor’s words played over and over in my head. “Even if we could perform the surgery, I’m sorry. You’re not her type.” I would have given my life for her to continue hers. But just as I feared, neither one of us was a match.

We’d adopted Scarlet when she was just a baby. We cared for her as if she was our own. Loved her as fiercely as we could. And now, when she needed us the most, we couldn’t protect her.

Sorrow and rage consumed me. I was as hopeless as she was helpless.

The door creaked open behind me as I sobbed over her. I expected my husband, but instead was greeted by the nurse. She quietly approached the IV connected to my flickering light, swapping the bag. She smiled as she passed me to exit. I couldn’t do anything but stare.

The nurse placed her hand on my shoulder to console me. I heard Scarlet’s breathing slow until it ceased. I rushed to her side, filled with panic. As I turned to beg the nurse to do something, her gaze caught mine. The pupils, which were a brilliant blue moments before, were now obsidian black. Even the whites of her eyes had darkened. They reflected my horror back to me like mirrors into my soul.

I fled into the hallway, frantically searching for help, both for my daughter and from the creature that only offered me a crooked smile. The corridor swarmed with people, but the cacophony and movement I should have witnessed had petrified. Time itself had clotted, seeming to leave only myself and the nurse untouched.

“Do not run,” the nurse’s voice rolled from the room. I turned to see her eyes weren’t all that had changed. Her teeth had extended into blackened points before me as she gestured toward the chair in the room.

Hesitantly, I approached. I felt my heart pounding within me. Its frantic rhythm mocked the failing organ inside my daughter’s chest. I took my seat as instructed, visibly trembling.

As I sat, the nurse turned her attention to Scarlet, her claws combing her auburn hair. I bolted up to protect her and took my seat again quickly when the creature’s neck audibly snapped her gaze in my direction. 

The monster’s features contorted into a perverted compassion. “Your heart breaks for hers,” she hissed.

I lowered my head and nodded, tears raining from my eyes into my lap. When I looked back, the nurse’s nose was inches from my own. I tasted the vile, metallic decay wafting from its exhales.

“What would you do to save her? How far would you go?” it questioned me.

“A… anything,” I whimpered.

“Anything?” she said as she stood straight. “Would you give your own heart? Your own life?”

“I can’t… I’m not her type. We’re not a match…”

“Would you?!” She snapped.

“Y… yes,” I stammered.

The nurse’s smile curved higher, showing more of her grotesque maw. “I don’t heal what’s broken,” it whispered. “I only make it last.” The abomination extended its hand, gesturing for me to do the same. Sensing this creature could help Scarlet, I accepted its cold, moist grip.

It clamped its hand tightly on mine and curled the other side of its mouth, mutating its half smile into a malicious grin. Letting go of my hand, I watched in smothering dread as it loomed over me, the nails of its fingers extended further into long, dark points. I could hear the squelch of the talons tearing longer through the tips of its fingers.

I squeezed my eyes as tight as I possibly could as it screeched. The noise pierced through my ears and into my soul. I prepared myself to have my heart ripped from my very chest. Thoughts of my beautiful daughter flashed through my mind. But the pain never came.

I opened my eyes to find the nurse hovering above Scarlet’s sleeping form. The fluorescent hospital lights reflected off its obsidian talons as it plunged its claws directly into her chest.

Up and down. In and out. Stabbing my entire world repeatedly. I didn’t know if it was the horror I was witnessing or something more ominous, but I couldn't move an inch. I could only watch as blood painted the hospital room.

The demon slowly looked at me as it finished its assault. It raised its head, extending its arms outward, screeching again. The only movement my body allowed was its spilling tears.

“Now everyone’s her type!” the creature screamed.

Finally, I clenched my eyes trying to block it out. When they opened, the demon was gone, and I was sitting at the edge of my sleeping daughter’s bed.

I hurried to Scarlet’s side. “Your fragile heart is breaking you, and shattering Mommy’s sanity,” I whispered, as tremors racked my body. My fingers wove through her silken hair.

She began to stir until her eyes jetted open. Her stare was not her own, but hauntingly familiar. Obsidian eyes reflected my dread back at me. Quickly, her fingernails extended into claws, which plunged into my chest, extracting my heart as it pumped. Before I lost consciousness, I could hear the wet, rhythmic crunch as the organ was consumed.

Scarlet rose from her bed. My heart had given her a second chance. It was far from the last she would take.