Tricia Pek (Bai Yuxuan), 14

School: Edgefield Secondary School

Topic: Describe how you feel hearing someone close, receiving a heart transplant

Award: Fifth Place, Junior Category, 2023

She dies in the end.

I was scared stiff. My best friend was feeling short of breath, lightheaded and she looked so fragile. As if she would break like porcelain at any moment, shattering into a million pieces that I would never be able to put back together. Stress had caused her to have a heart attack, too much pressure had been put on her young and inexperienced shoulders. Parents telling her to study harder, practise more, be someone whom we can be proud of. After it, I thought she had figured out her problems, reconciled with her parents and could finally smile without feeling guilty. Could people even have heart failures at this age? Could she not potentially die from the surgery? A freight train was hitting me square in the gut, and I could do nothing to stop it.

She stood in front of me as she told me the news, brave and strong, but so weak at the same time. Painted glass that looked like steel. Her eyes were fortresses, letting no negative emotions out. But her hands were trembling. Her mouth was shaking and it was a sight that made me physically ache to take away her pain and hug her in between sobs. It made me feel so useless, so incredibly helpless. Right there in front of her and yet so far away, unable to feel her pain or remove it, so overwhelming and consuming that it felt tangible, a shadow wrapping its cold hands around me. My hands wrapped around her in a gentle embrace, comforting her as we both sank to the ground. We sank beneath the ground, into a world where only we understood each other, where our demons and fears roamed free, but we were powerful enough to fight them off, a different reality from the one where we reside now.

I was angry. Angry at the world, angry at myself. It was not healthy, far from it. It was a self-destructive spiral that only led into a winding abyss. But it was the only thing I could imagine feeling then. Blaming something, anything for it was better than accepting the fact that she was suffering. Invisible hands pointed themselves at me, accusing and never ending. Tiny voices that hid in the recesses of my mind suddenly came out of hiding. Fingers latched onto my consciousness, voices creeped into my ears. Their words were biting. They stung. It was not a wound that could heal with a bandage and proper medical care. It was a wound that bled from the heart.

I could have never been angry at her though. I took her ever-trembling hands, held them close to my heart and consoled her as salty tears trailed down her cheeks. Wet stains on my shirt and puddles of water pooled onto the wooden floor, hot lava burning its way through the ground as if to solidify this as a memory for the future. I’d stay with her by her bedside, chatting with her for hours on end. She had wanted to treasure every single moment she had with her eyes open, telling me to shake her awake when she fell asleep. I never did though. I knew my reasons were selfish, but she looked so peaceful sleeping, her eyes closed and her breathing steady. I used to wish that we could stay like this forever, a moment preserved in time, but she would have never wanted that. She would have wanted to be awake everyday, allowing the quiet midnights to turn into a chirping sunrise, staring at the sky until its colour ingrained itself in her brain. She would have wanted to drag me to run in a field of flowers, to bask in the sun, making the sunlight and the warmth seep into her pores one last time. A smile would have lit up her face, and amidst the swaying flowers and the golden glow of the sun, I know I would have seen a glowing halo above her head. But instead of feeling the wind against her skin once more and the flowers brushing against her bare feet, she died in a hospital bed, the smell of medicine infecting her pores instead of that of flowers. Her ever-present smile had suddenly disappeared, her body had been cold to the touch. Her eyes stayed open, but they would never close by themselves again. I doubt that she ever died at peace.

Disclaimer: Please note that the views and opinions expressed in the essays for the Live On Festival 2023 are those of the participants and are not endorsed by the National Organ Transplant Unit (Ministry of Health). To learn more about organ donation and organ transplantation in Singapore, please visit www.liveon.gov.sg