The Donor

"Name".
The prisoner cleared his throat.
"Andrew Cullen".
The prison physician scribbled on his notepad.
"Age".
"Fourteen".
More scratching.
"Alright, physical examination time".
The doc snapped a pair of rubber gloves on and grabbed a small flashlight. "Open your mouth." Andrew complied, and the doc shone the light while pushing one gloved hand into Andrew's mouth. The doc withdrew the hand and wiped it with a moist towelette.

He continued examining Andrew. Shining a light in his eyes, taking a blood sample with a needle, and a urinary sample. Andrew hesitated at the last one, until the doctor gestured at the heavyset guard standing by the door. The implication was not lost, and the boy blushed as he pulled his baggy orange prison sweatpants down, relieving himself into a small plastic beaker. The doctor observed and recorded it all, his expression never wavering.

"A very healthy specimen, no history of disease, no record of injury", the doctor stated. Elizabeth nodded, her brows furrowed. "Same blood type as your daughter, roughly the same age, same ethnicity and upbringing", he continued, flipping through the file. "It's just…he's so young", she whispered. She looked at the photo again. The boy in it looked back, his eyes dark and filled with anger and fear.
"Ma'am, he made his choice. He'll be dead by the end of the week. Its up to you to decide whether that death will help your daughter", the doctor murmured. Elizabeth looked up and smiled sadly. "I guess you're right", she said. Her pen streaked across the page. The doctor smiled as well, although it was for a different reason. He had a contract with various health insurance providers that gave him a generous stipend each time he provided healthy organs to one of their customers. Andrew would add up to well over a million dollars as his organs would be spread across 10 different benefactors.

The week passed. Sunday came. The execution was scheduled early in the morning. The guards came with breakfast (porridge spiked with tranquilizers to induce docility). Andrew forced a few spoonfuls into his mouth, all appetite having deserted him hours before. The drugs worked quickly, letting the guards strip the prison uniform off of Andrew without much protest. They restrained his arms and legs. There was a look of tired resignation to Andrew's expression. "Hellow, Andrew!", the doctor greeted him with a chipper tone. Andrew couldn't muster the energy to reply back.

The prison administration had multiple methods of execution, some designed to leave as much of the body "pristine". In Andrew's case, they decided to use the garotte. The guards dragged the lethargic boy to the post and sat him down on the seat. They tied leather straps down across his chest, pelvis, and thighs, then placed a black hood over his head. The wire was loosened, then placed across his neck. One of the guards walked around to the back of the post, where the controls were located. The wire was attached to a motor which would tighten the garotte until the prisoner was dead.

With a nod from the prison doc, the guard activated the garotte, and the execution began. A sharp intake of breath could be heard from Andrew as he felt the wire sink into his neck, then a choked gargle. Almost immediately, the boy began to squirm. The motor whirred, undeterred by the resistance of flesh. Blood began to course down Andrew's heaving chest as the wire cut into his neck. A minute passed, and still Andrew fought against death. His feet drummed against the post, and his hands flexed. The doctor noted with some amusement the erection Andrew sported. Common enough on the adolescent boys who met their untimely end by asphyxiation or the noose. The doctor was lost in thought when he heard a final wet sigh, and looked up to see the boy's hooded head drooping forward. This was a crucial moment, as the prison needed to harvest the organs at their most freshest.

The guards loosened the restraints and dragged the corpse over to a table, where a medical autopsy robot shifted its spider-like limbs, cold steel gleaming under the harsh lighting of the execution chamber. Multiple medical saws whined as they sliced open skin and muscle, and the robot efficiently retrieved the heart, lungs, pancreas, liver, stomach, kidney, intestines, and eyes. It deposited each into an ice filled cold storage container.

One month later:

Elizabeth smiled as her daughter shot out of the hospital bed and rushed to hug her. Within her daughter beat the heart of that young prisoner. She gave silent thanks as she picked her child up and pecked her on the cheek.