"What the fuck!?" the sweaty surgeon cried, trying to push himself away in the chair he was strapped to. Small vines extended from my fingers, and twisted around waiting to feed.

"Lucky for you, I only need one small memory," I explained. "You just gave the heart that should have been my daughter's to this woman." I gestured to the heavily sedated woman laying on the table next to my daughter's.

"Jesus…… fuck… it's y— Sullivan. Trevor Sullivan. Your daughter's surgery was denied because…"

"Because in addition to heart failure, she had brain cancer!" I spat in his face.

"I'm sorry…", the surgeon whimpered.

"You don't have to be," I smiled.

I grabbed his face with my other hand, pulled it forward, and dug the vines into the back of his neck. All I need is the last month of his memories that include me and my daughter. He seizes and drools, whilst a performance of a heart transplant plays perfectly in my brain. His neck suddenly drooped downward, and roughly an hour later, he came to.

"Who are you…. what the fuck is this?!" he yanks at his restraints and thrashes in his chair. I gently place my daughter's heart in a bowl beside me, and reach for her new heart.

"Consider yourself lucky. Julian Luce is next, and curing brain cancer is a different beast. I'll need his whole life's work in order to stand a chance."