Casey Philips has it a deadbeat husband, a psychopathic son, a beautiful newborn daughter, and catastrophic heart failure necessitating an organ transplant. When a serial killer becomes an unexpected organ donor, Casey gets a heart and a new lease on life.
Except, dark dreams plague the disgruntled housewifeâplaces she's never been, chasing women she's never met. Sometimes, Casey wakes up outside her kids' rooms without realizing how she got thereâknife in hand.
How far will a mother with a newly acquired taste for vengeance go to right the wrongs of an abusive husband, an increasingly violent son, and even her own sins? Only the heart knows what it truly wants.
The Broken Heart explores in harrowing detail how far a person is willing to go to reclaim the life they were meant to live
Casey Philips has it a deadbeat husband, a psychopathic son, a beautiful newborn daughter, and catastrophic heart failure necessitating an organ transplant. When a serial killer becomes an unexpected organ donor, Casey gets a heart and a new lease on life.
Except, dark dreams plague the disgruntled housewifeâplaces she's never been, chasing women she's never met. Sometimes, Casey wakes up outside her kids' rooms without realizing how she got thereâknife in hand.
How far will a mother with a newly acquired taste for vengeance go to right the wrongs of an abusive husband, an increasingly violent son, and even her own sins? Only the heart knows what it truly wants.
The Broken Heart explores in harrowing detail how far a person is willing to go to reclaim the life they were meant to live
He stopped, drawing in a breath of night air, and savored its crispness. No choking humidity this time of year. Muscles quivered with unspent energy, and he fought the urge to crack his knucklesâchanneling his impatience into physical activity. He might have given into such urges when he was younger, more cocksure, but experience was lifeâs best teacher and making untoward noise could give away his position. Lord knew it had happened before⌠more than once. Not tonight. Cocking his head, he listened, carefully containing the exhilaration thatâstill, even after all these yearsâthreatened to overwhelm him. As he held stock-still, the forest moved around him.      Â
            Minute snaps and crackles. Twigs, dead leaves, pattering footfalls of all manner of creatures. Skittering insects, four-legged mammals; some hooved, others with delicate paws. Nothing substantial like the clomping of his fleeing preyâgusty exhalations, thin whistles from narrowed, abused airways. Wings fluttered, snug within nests. Something crunched through a carpet of foliageâtoo far away to be of any interest to him.
He knew they werenât her. Brow furrowedâwhere was she? Moving eyes only, he scanned his surroundings. Perhaps behind that that moss-covered boulder, cowering in fear? Or had she pressed her battered body against the forest floorâignoring the crawling legs of rogue spiders whispering against her soft cheeksâhoping sheâd be overlooked, and heâd give up the chase? Not a chance, heâd search until light bled through the horizon. Nothing stirred in his field of view, but he didnât rely wholly on sight and soundâlike any adept predator, he had other tools in his arsenal.  Nostrils flared and a damp soil aroma rushed in, reminding him of earthworms wriggling in the dirt after a fresh rain but on the heels of that? A sharp tang on his tastebuds that also tickled his tender nasal mucosa, something one might mistakenly attribute to the surrounding trees and foliage if they didnât know better.Â
The man knew better.Â
Fear. It was the scent of pure, unadulterated fear. It rolled off the women in waves, lingering in the air and like a prized houndâs nose or a flickering snakeâs tongueâhe easily detected it. She was close.Â
Awfully close. Â
Lips twitched and curled, exposing his pointed incisors. Muscles coiled. Tensed. He waited.Â
Snap!Â
There!Â
Head whipped towards the disturbance and body followed. Silence was no longer a virtue and he crashed through branches and bushes, eyes firmly on her retreating back. Tattered fabric from her shirt snagged on passing branches fluttered here and there, acting like Hansel and Gretelâs breadcrumbs in case he lost sight of herâunlikely. Sheâd taken a nasty tumble earlier, right after she broke free from him. With every stride, he drew closer, enjoying the lurch of her shoulders with every agonized step, clearly favoring the right leg. She shot a furtive look behind her, eyes rolling in their sockets giving her the appearance of a terrified bovine, and saw him, inching ever closer. A sob spilled out, followed by a plea that traveled to his ears by the headwind they both ran against.Â
âPlease! Stop. Just⌠just⌠let me go.â She sniveled back a glob of snot, a nasty, sucking sound. âI wonât tell anyone. I promise.â Legs slowed yet, she still ran, or at least, loped along as well as someone could with a bum leg. But the begging? The bargaining? That signaled one thing.Â
Lost hope. Fleeing her predator wasnât going to happen and sheâd come to the horrifying realization all the women inevitably did:
She was about to be caughtâall because he had to scratch an insatiable itch.Â
His knife glinted in the moonlight and flashed, its point unzipping her skin, releasing a litany of sweet screams, along with blood, so warm cascading over him.
Such beautiful pleasure contained in suffering.   Â
If you were sick and needed a new heart, it would be a miracle if one day there was a shiny new heart available. What if that new heart came with baggage that could transfer to its new owner.
What if that heart belonged to a sadistic killer? In The Broken Heart, Casey is about to find out and it will have consequences that she could never imagine. Poor Casey Phillips is in a rut. Her constantly drunk husband spends his days at work and his nights drinking and reminiscing about an ex girlfriend. Her son, Owen, has the sociopathic hobby of crushing birds under his 6-year-old sized shoe and scaring his parents. Her only joy is her baby girl, Eleanor, but to bring her into the world, she had to sacrifice her own heart. Now, Casey waits on the organ donor list waiting for a new one. Luckily for her, a new heart shows up after a man gets into a horrific accident. Itâs the miracle Casey needs to move her life forward. Unfortunately, that heart belonged to a serial killer whose hunger for blood didnât end just because his life did.Â
The concept for The Broken Heart is what initially drew me into this book. The thought of a piece of you being replaced by someone else and that personâs own essence showing through is truly a terrifying thought, especially when itâs such a crucial part of yourself like a heart. What kept me going through the book is how well written it was. The thoughts, feelings and environments are so well portrayed that you can see them like a movie in your mind. The only downside is that some of the metaphors and similes can feel the slightest bit pretentious. One part in particular had me feeling like it was just a little excessive. During the accident which caused the death of the donor, there were so many adjectives being thrown around, it was hard to keep up. Maybe I just had a problem with the idea of a âpregnant moonâ and thatâs my own issue to deal with. Regardless of some of the overly painted pictures, you can feel just how rotten Caseyâs life has become. Jack, her husband, is so unlikable that some parts are hard to read. As a mother, the thought of your own child possibly being a budding killer is a terrifying thought and the one light in her life's in danger from her first born. The stress is palpable. You are rooting for Casey all the way until the very end.Â
Overall, The Broken Heart is a moderately paced and gruesome horror read. Trigger warnings for those sensitive to rape, violence on children and excessive gore. If you are like me and donât get squeamish easily, this is a fun read for the spooky season. It will leave you feeling out of breath, uncomfortable and thankful for your own organs. While the ending was a bit on the âmehâ side, everything leading up to it was a hell of a ride.