Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

Dean inhales with a shudder, leaning his shoulder against the pole. “You know, I used to joke that we’d probably end up killing each other one day,” he murmurs, kicking at a small rock near his sneaker. “I guess I always had a feeling we’d go together.”

I try to ignore the sound of his voice and close my eyes, but I find the raspy melodies to be oddly calming. He’s singing one of my favorite songs—Hey Jude by The Beatles.

Dean?” “Yeah?” I wet my lips and close my eyes. I can’t believe I’m asking him this, but it’s easier to be vulnerable in the dark… and when you have nothing to lose. “Can you sing to me?”

“Any requests?” A calming sensation washes over me and my body relaxes. “You can sing Hey Jude again if you want. It’s my favorite.” “I know,” he says softly.

“Not as good as you,” Dean says. There’s a distinct twinkle in his eyes that matches the smile I already miss. “You were out like a light.” “I was drooling, wasn’t I?” “Your secret is safe with me.”

His eyes look even bluer as they hold mine. “I had a thing for you first.” What? I choke on nothing. I start coughing and sputtering, and I have to force my eyes away from him. “What are you talking about?”

“Before I started dating Mandy. It was freshman year and you walked into Mr. Adilman’s class wearing that little denim skirt and purple blazer. Your hair was all long and gold and had some kind of flower clip in it. I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”

I lost my virginity to Mr. Adilman.” He gapes at me. “What the fuck?”

“You don’t feel like my enemy anymore,” I finish. You feel like my lifeline.

Dean sneaks up beside us, waggling his stupid eyebrows. “Yeah, it’s fun, Corabelle. You’ve read about fun in your books, right?” “Wait. You know what books are?”

‘Twenty Questions’. Turkey sandwiches. Rape. Hunger pains. Heart pains. Singing. Stories. Despair. Sex with Dean. Sex with Dean. That is something I’ll likely never wrap my head around. It’s happened four times now. I’ve had sex with Dean Asher four times. And it’s not rape—I will never call it rape. Every time, he waits for my consent. Every time, he is willing to die in that moment if I choose to say no.

Me: Can we grab coffee? We should talk. I pace back and forth through my living room in just my sweatpants, staring at my phone screen and scratching the back of my neck, noting that I really need to get a damn haircut. She reads the message fairly quickly, and I hold my breath, bracing myself for a shut down. Cora: I suppose. But only because I’m standing at your front door right now. I blink at the response, processing her words. Well, shit.

My head snaps up and I twist the book around, feeling bad that she ordered a defective one. “Uh, slight issue,” I tell her. Cora sits up straight, blinking slow. She stares at me in what looks to be utter confusion before replying, “Crap. I didn’t think you’d notice.” Ah, hell. Next Christmas? It’s on.

“Tell her you’re breaking up with her because I threatened you. She already hates me. She’ll believe it.” Brandon stares at me, dumbfounded. “You’re fucking crazy. Are you secretly in love with her or something?”

Her shoulders are trembling as she plants both hands on the steering wheel, squeezing until her knuckles go white. More tears spill from her eyes. “Fine.” She sniffles, looking up at me with eyes made of emerald flames. “We’re done. Whatever this is, whatever is between us—it’s done. Over. I thought I needed you to heal, but this is toxic… all you’re doing is holding me underwater and I can’t breathe. I can’t heal when I’m constantly reminded of my trauma every time I look at you.” Cora inhales sharp, ragged breaths as she finishes. “I thought you could fix me. But you’re killing me, Dean.”

Cora: Don’t judge me for that awful run on sentence. My eyes are bleeding just looking at it. Please delete it.

Cora: Anyway, I’m going to try and sleep. I don’t hate you. I know I said you’re holding me underwater but you’re the only thing keeping me afloat. Cora: Goodnight. Cora: Delete that run on sentence please.

The class mutters a bored ‘hello’ as I continue to plan out our future in my mind. Homecoming and Prom are a given. It would be great if we end up going to the same college together, but long distance relationships aren’t so bad. We’ll make it work. We’ll be married by thirty, buy a big house in the suburbs, and have three blonde-haired babies by thirty-five. We’ll travel a lot, then move right by the ocean when we retire.

She smiles at me, that same sweet smile, and this one is all mine. It fills me up and lights me on fire, and I know, I just know… I’m going to marry this girl one day.

“Dean.” My name comes out as a tiny cry—a plea. “Don’t do this.” I stand from the couch, stepping towards her with outstretched hands. She moves back to avoid my reach and I pause my feet, my arms falling at my sides, defeated. “I don’t want to hurt you…” “Then don’t. I don’t want you to hurt me.” She folds her arms across her chest, her body already trembling. “We can work through this.” “We can’t. And it’s not because I don’t care about you… we’ve had an amazing run, and I don’t regret a single moment of the last fifteen years.”

“Is it because of her?” “What? Who?” “My sister.” The word spits out between clenched teeth, like it was nearly impossible to say. My jaw ticks in reply. This isn’t about Cora. This is about me and Mandy. We’re not well-suited. It doesn’t work. Not anymore.

She wants to know if I have romantic feelings. Sexual feelings. More than friends feelings. “It’s complicated.” Mandy glares at me. “It’s not complicated, Dean! You either want to fuck my sister or you don’t.” Jesus.

Cora: I did a thing. I’m sitting at my kitchen table that Saturday afternoon, eating one of those frozen macaroni and cheese dinners, when Cora’s text comes through. Me: How outrageous are we talking? Cora: Hmm. Upper medium? Me: On a scale of “I cut my own bangs” to “I bought a llama farm”

Cora: Let’s just say I bought the llama from the farm. Two of them. Me: Wtf?

Me: … … Cora: I sort of adopted a serial killer’s two dogs. Meet Jude and Penny Lane. Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in her living room.

“Are you nuts?” I glance at the two dogs curled up together in one giant dog bed as the miniature bed sits empty. “You adopted Earl’s dogs? The ones who were going to eat us?” She stands up straight after refilling their water bowls, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and raising an eyebrow at me. “I doubt they were going to eat us. Earl was just trying to scare us.”

“Fine, they’re fuckin’ cute. I’m not a stone cold monster. I’m just confused.” I scratch my head, cocking it to the side as I try to process it all. “Aren’t they… messed up?” I realize that was the wrong terminology when Cora’s head snaps back over to me. “Not anymore messed up than us. Are you saying we don’t deserve to be loved and cared about because of what happened?” Shit. She got me there. I fill my cheeks with air and shrug my shoulders, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just thought they might be aggressive or have some issues, you know?”

Cora swings her head back and forth, glancing at the resting animals. “They had a full assessment and the vet doesn’t think they were abused. Just severely neglected. They’re very attached to each other, so they came as a bonded pair.” A bonded pair. They aren’t the only ones.

Damn. I was hoping I didn’t have to have this conversation twice. I’m still recovering from that look of utter devastation in Mandy’s eyes, and I have no idea how Cora is going to react to the news. “I broke up with her yesterday.” Cora stares at me, unblinking, and the rag slips from her hand. “I figured she told you. It was a rough night, and she didn’t handle it well—obviously. And I just think—” “Undo it.”

I reach out to touch her shoulder. “Cora…” Cora flies back around on her heels with wild eyes. “Is it because of me? Did you break my sister’s heart because of me?” “No.” I have no idea why she’s so pissed off. “This has nothing to do with us.” “You’re lying.”

“Because it’s true, okay?” Her voice breaks, shuddering and quivering and full of defeat. “Something happened between us that last day. I felt it, too. And I thought it was just some screwed up defense mechanism that I’d leave behind in that basement… but dammit, Dean, it followed me. I still feel it.” She looks up, boldly finding my eyes. “It’s destroying everything, and I hate you for it.”

“No.” I grab her wrists and walk her back towards the far wall until she’s pressed up against it, shaking and crying. I cradle her wet cheeks between my palms and plant a kiss on her mouth, tender and soft. “You love me. You fucking love me, Cora.”

Cora yanks my face back down and our mouths crash together, teeth colliding, tongues hungry and violent. I grasp the side of her face, then force her jaw open by pushing my thumb between her teeth. She squeaks in surprise, and I take her mouth in mine, filling her with my tongue and tasting every inch of her. It’s sensual and erotic, and I can’t get enough. I’m fucking drowning.

“I…” She’s still looking me in the eyes when her breath catches and her face crumples. “I hate myself.” Cora goes limp in my arms with a heart-wrenching sob. I don’t catch her before she falls—no, I let her fall, and I fall with her. Our legs buckle and we hit the floor, Cora in my lap, her face buried against my chest. I hold her so fucking tight I’m afraid I might break her, feeling her tears seep through my shirt and bleed into my skin. She clings to me, raining her own kisses along my torso in between her tears and hiccups, and I glide my fingers through her hair, down her back, letting her release.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair. “Always.”

“But there’s no story like ours, Mom. People don’t write about what we went through. They don’t write about how we were abducted in the middle of the night by a sick motherfucker, handcuffed to pipes for three weeks, hungry, dirty, and scared out of our damn minds while I was forced to violate her with a gun to my head. “They don’t write about how I shredded a man’s face with my bare hands until I cut my knuckles on his skull. They don’t write about what the hell we’re supposed to do after something like that, when life goes back to normal and everyone around us is smiling and happy, but we’re still stuck in that hellhole, clinging to each other because we’re all we have.” I lower my hands to my face as I try not to break. “And the real kicker is that I was engaged to her sister. What the hell kind of twisted shit is that?”

“Every love story is worth writing, no matter how messy it might be,” Holly says absently, still stroking my hair. “I would like to read your book.”

Holly reaches for my hand resting on my thigh, clasping it inside her cool palm, still enamored by the pictures on the television. “I had a terrible nightmare once. It was a lot different than yours, though.” She squeezes my fingers and releases a small sigh. “I was all alone.” I wait for her to continue. I wait for the story to unfold, the horrors to play out, the nightmare to come to life. But she doesn’t say anything else and I realize… that was the nightmare.

Me: Do you have candles or something? Cora: I can’t find my lighter. I’m using my phone’s flashlight, but my battery is almost dead. Shoot me. I run my tongue along my teeth, weighing my options. There are only two options, and it doesn’t take long for me to pick one. Me: On my way Cora: That’s not necessary.

Me: You’re afraid of the dark. Cora: I’m afraid of a lot of things. You’re one of them.

She steps aside, sighing softly, and allows me to enter. I take tentative steps inside, holding out my hands so I don’t bump into anything. “Shit. It’s really dark.” “That’s generally the consequence of no light.”

How are the dogs doing?” I hear Cora rummage around a drawer, likely looking for the wine opener. “Really great, actually. Jude already knows how to give me his paw. Penny follows him around everywhere—it’s adorable.”

“Cora, you told me you hated me—like, a dozen times. Then you told me you hated yourself, which I can only assume is because of me.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes another sip. “I was upset.” “Well, I didn’t want to make you more upset.”

“Do you want to know the worst night of my whole life?” she asks suddenly, her voice merely a whisper, yet so loud in the silent room. The truth is, I don’t think I want to know… but I assume she wants to tell me. “What was it?” Cora tickles my arm as her fingers glide back down, inciting goosebumps to sprout all over my skin. “It was the night after we… well, the first time you had to…” She swallows. “You didn’t talk to me. You didn’t sing. And it was so dark.”

“The only time I felt safe was when you were inside of me.”

“It’s also the day after we had mind-blowing sex, and we should probably talk about it.” Cora sits up, her cheeks staining pink, and begins to move herself to the edge of the bed as she drags the blankets with her. “I don’t want to talk about that, Dean.” What the fuck? “Seriously?”

“Don’t you leave me, Corabelle. I fucking love you. Don’t you dare leave me.” I gather her petite frame in my arms, bringing her up to my chest, sobbing into her hair. I cling to her, trying to zap her with my lifeforce, trying to bring her back to me with nothing but my tears and words and love. “Come back,” I whisper through my grief, then lay her back down to continue the chest compressions.

Lily does that thing with her mouth, gaping at me with her eyes bugged out. “Please tell me this is a Supernatural reference. I know those Winchesters seem so real sometimes when we’re all alone at night with our vibr—”

“Dean. Dean Asher. Dean, my sister’s ex. My almost brother-in-law, my long-time nemesis, the source of nearly every single migraine I’ve ever had over the last fifteen years, the reason I have a complex about spaghetti… and the only reason I’m still alive right now rambling off my sinful secret to you.” I say it all in one breath, placing both palms against my flushed face. I inhale deep, both shame and longing battling it out inside me.

“No, it can’t. This is literally rock bottom.” “Ooh, so… it’s only up from here.” “You would make a terrible therapist.”