Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

“Look at me, Cora. Keep your eyes on me. Listen to my voice,” Dean orders, doing everything he can to maintain my attention. To distract me from the fact that I’m being defiled right before his eyes. “We’re going to get out of here, you hear me? I’m going to get us out of here. Just focus on me. I’m the only thing that’s real right now. It’s just you and me, Cora. Focus, okay? Look at me… focus on my voice…”

“You can sing Hey Jude again if you want. It’s my favorite.” “I know,” he says softly.

Take a sad song and make it better.

“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.”

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

“I told you her heart was still beating. As long as it was beating, she was okay.”

“It’s still beating,” he whispers, his words a soft kiss against my lips. “As long as it’s beating, you’re okay.”

And then his knuckles graze against my own like a soft kiss, a knowing touch, a promise. I feel his fingers interlace with mine. We stand there, hand-in-hand, watching as EMTs and police officers move towards us like a slow-motion movie. I hold onto him. He’s still my lifeline. He’s still all I have. We’re in this together.

It was only three weeks, but it’s burned into every cell, every vein, every tainted pocket of my soul. Forever. And so is she.

She doesn’t need to pretend with me, though. She doesn’t need to hide. I’m here, and I see her—every scar, every flaw, every broken, hollow piece. And I understand.

What the fuck are we? We’ll never be friends. We’re no longer enemies. We can’t be lovers. Where does that leave us? Soldiers at war. Kindred spirits. Two lost, wandering souls with nothing, and everything, in common. Or… maybe not. Maybe we aren’t something meant to be labeled. We transcend titles. And that, I fear, is the most powerful thing of all.

I lower my gaze to Cora’s chest, noting the locket dangling between her breasts. She carries a piece of me with her. She carries a lot of my pieces with her.

Healing. She looks like healing.

I start to drift away when I feel her lips against my cheek, just as light as before. A tickle, a whisper, a fleeting kiss. Healing. She feels like healing.

Cora glances over in my direction and our eyes meet for the very first time. Green. Angels have green eyes. 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.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair. “Always.” She can pretend to hate me. If it diminishes even a fraction of her pain, she can fucking pretend all she wants. But I know it’s love… it has to be, because if this isn’t love… Then I’m certain it does not exist.

“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.”

You can’t tiptoe around your heart in fear of pissing people off or hurting their feelings. Sometimes we need to be a little selfish in order to avoid a life of complacency.”

“And for the record, literally your only flaw has ever been liking N*SYNC over Backstreet Boys. Otherwise, you’re pretty perfect.”

“I wish you fought for me as hard as you fought to get out of that basement.”

love doesn’t exist without sacrifice. Sometimes those sacrifices are waking up ten minutes early to make your partner coffee. Sometimes it’s taking on a second job to support your family. Sometimes it’s staying up all night with a newborn so your significant other can finally sleep. Sometimes it’s shoveling the other person’s car out of the driveway after a snowstorm.” She places her palm against my wet cheek and smiles softly. “And sometimes it’s making the ultimate sacrifice and walking away for the greater good.”

Maybe love is singing her favorite song in the dark, just so she can sleep. Maybe love is giving away the shoes on your feet to help keep her warm. Maybe love is coming over in the middle of the night when the power goes out because you know she’s afraid of the dark. And maybe love is walking away because it’s the only way she’ll find the light again.

“Just get better. There’s no shame in the struggle, but you can’t stay there forever. We’re all here for you.”

It’s still beating. You’re still okay. And I still love you. — Dean

“Corabelle… that was me fighting for you. That was me fighting for your healing, your joy, your smile, your laughter… your beautiful, broken spirit. I never stopped fighting for you and I never will.”

“As long as it’s beating, I’m yours.”