Words by Syl DeLeon
Audio by Psychomelodic
“It won’t take long,” she said, jolly music piping from overhead speakers as she shut the door behind her. The receptionist popped her gum and glared at me.
When the screaming started, I dug my nails in the seat. Blood curling, ongoing, pure shrill agony, grunting, with a final guttural heave that ended in a high-pitched whine.
She shuffled out, a wrapped bundle in her arms. A haunted, dark-eyed smile behind moist bangs, she said, “For you.” I pulled the cover to find a severed heart, arteries and veins oozing. The organ convulsed twice in my lap and stopped beating.