Chapter 6: The New Rhythm
One Year Later.
The air at the summit of Bear Mountain was thin and sweet, the kind of air I had spent twenty years gasping for. I stood on the rocky ledge, the wind whipping through my hair, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of a heart that wasn’t mine by birth, but was finally me.
I unzipped my hiking jacket, looking down at the long, thin scar that ran down the center of my chest. It wasn’t a mark of shame. It was a medal of honor. It was the physical proof that the truth cannot be beaten out of a human being, no matter how hard they pull at the lines that connect us to life.
I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. It was a letter from Ethan, sent from the state penitentiary where he was serving fifteen years for attempted murder and aggravated assault.
“You always wanted the attention, Emily,” he had written in his jagged, narcissistic hand. “You ruined my life for a new heart. You were the monster all along, hiding behind your tubes and your doctors.”
I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel the need to reply. A year ago, I would have cried over his words, desperate for him to see me as a person. But I had a new heart now, and it didn’t have room for his poison. I realized that Ethan’s “exposure” hadn’t ruined me; it had liberated me. It had stripped away the parasites of my life and brought me the only thing I needed to survive: the truth.
I let go of the letter. I watched as the mountain breeze caught the paper, spinning it into the vast, open sky until it was nothing more than a white speck in a world of green.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Dr. Vance.
“Checking in on my favorite patient. I hope you aren’t overexerting yourself on that hike. By the way, the hospital board just voted. The new cardiac wing is officially ‘The Emily Vance Center for Medical Advocacy.’ Ready for the ribbon-cutting next week? I’d like you to give the keynote speech on ‘The Power of Being Heard.’”
I looked out at the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden light over the world I was finally a part of. I placed my hand over my chest, feeling the perfect, unshakeable rhythm.
“I’m ready, Julian,” I whispered to the wind. “I’m finally on beat.”
The final verdict was in: The “Fake Fall” was over. The real life had begun.
