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His eyes flicker with something I can’t exactly pinpoint. It’s not guilt or remorse. It’s not enjoyment either. “Whatever.”
Dean’s bomb did happen to trigger something somewhat juicy. “I lost my virginity to Mr. Adilman.” He gapes at me. “What the fuck?” I crinkle my nose, not entirely proud of that fact. “I was nineteen. We ran into each other at a bar—Mandy and I had just gotten fake I.D.’s. He gave me a ride home, one thing led to another, and…” I feel my cheeks flush at the memory I’ve kept to myself for ten years. “I’m sure you can figure out the rest.” Dean fidgets with his cuffs as he blows out a breath. “Shit, Cora. You gave it up to your high school English teacher? Mandy told me Brandon was your first.” I
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I want to cry because it’s awful, so awful, but Dean is still trying to make this better for me.
But as sticky warmth drips down my thighs and Dean’s tears mingle with the sweat on my skin, I know we are not the same. We will never be the same again.
Besides, Brandon sounded overly enthusiastic about the prospect of spending the night in the creepy house and I didn’t want him to think I was a coward. I am, of course. I’m practically pissing myself with fear right now.
Over a week drags by in this house of horrors. Sixteen sunrises mock us from the frosty window. ‘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. And every time, he dies just a little bit anyway.
I want to run to her. I want to take her in my arms and whisper into her ear that everything is going to be okay. We survived. It’s over. But I don’t. I can lie to Mandy and her parents and my friends and my boss and my therapist… but I can’t lie to her.
I follow, not caring if it looks strange or inappropriate—my instincts tell me to follow her. I can feel their eyes boring into my back, trying to understand why I’m chasing Mandy’s sister up the stairs, but they have to know. They have to know we’re different now.
She’ll never know the things I was forced to do, the lines that were crossed, or the guilt I’ll carry with me until the day I die. And she’ll certainly never know how those lines blurred inexplicably on that final day.
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.
Still Beating. She doesn’t say anything. I wonder if maybe she doesn’t understand, so I start to explain. “I was thinking you can wear it over your heart as a constant reminder of everything you survived. As long as it’s still beating, you’re okay.” She is still silent. I’m starting to doubt the gift, thinking maybe it is too much. Maybe it’s too personal. Too triggering. But then Cora throws herself into my lap, her arms around my neck, and I feel her tears slip underneath my shirt collar. “Thank you,” she whispers in a ragged breath. “It’s perfect.” The necklace remains clutched in a tight
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Ahhhhhh
We situate ourselves onto the queen-sized bed, and I only let go of her to pull the blankets up over our bodies, then my arms envelop her once again. She’s stoned on sleeping pills and I’m drunk off my ass, and we’re messy, damaged humans clinging to each other as we battle through the storm together, but it’s okay because we’re together.
I honestly had no intention of going—ringing in the new year with a handle of vodka and my progressive rock playlist sounded far more appealing. But Cora will be there. I haven’t seen her since that confusing, hangover-infused post-Christmas morning, but we’ve talked on the phone every night since.
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.
Honestly, the only other woman I’ve ever even thought about in that way is Cora… which is a secret I’ll take to my grave. Neither of them can ever know I had eyes for Cora Lawson first when she ambled into English class as a doe-eyed freshman, radiating innocence and lavender.
I reach for it, surprised to see Cora’s name attached to a long string of text messages coming through. Cora: I’m sorry about what I said. Cora: I think. Cora: The truth is I had a few glasses of wine so now I’m a little loopy and confused and normally we would be talking on the phone right now but we’re not because I told you to leave me alone and I kind of regret that. 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
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“That’s crazy talk. I was the one who set it in motion. That bastard asked if you were my girl and I should have fucking lied. I should have said, ‘Hell fucking yes, she’s my girl’ because I’d be lucky as shit to have you.”
“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.”
I just want to die. All those weeks fighting so hard to live, and for what? Hell followed me home. It lives inside me, housing all of my demons and ghosts and unforgivable flaws.
“But seriously, Cor, don’t you ever pull that shit again. Get help. Find a new therapist if you need to. Join a support group. Get on medication. Just… don’t ever feel like we’d be better off without you.” I nod again. Mandy ducks her head. “I’m trying to understand, trying to put myself in your shoes, trying to sympathize with everything you went through that could have led to…” Her jaw tightens and she swallows. “But I’m still mad. I’m so mad at you, Cora.” “I
“I’m not sure if this makes it better or worse, but… I think he really loves you.” Mandy walks out, a small cry escaping her lips, and I start sobbing into the itchy bed covers.
“Mandy found out about us. She saw your text. She… she was so mad, so furious, and I flipped out, Dean. I was out of my head.” I inhale a rickety breath. “It was the lowest moment of my life. I thought I’d lost everything.” He exhales slow and deliberate, pressing his hand further into my chest. “You only lose everything when you lose this, Corabelle.”
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.”
“Also… just between you and me? If roles were reversed, Mandy wouldn’t hesitate.” This grabs my attention and I jerk my head back up. “What makes you think that?” “Call it a gut instinct.” Lily flips her braid over her shoulder with a shrug. “Let’s put it this way: did she or did she not sleep with that guy you were crushing on during those few months her and Dean split up?” I scrunch up my nose. “Benjamin, the attorney? That was different. I was never with Ben—it was just a crush. Mandy has been with Dean for half her life.” “I get it,” Lily replies, holding up her hands. “It’s not exactly
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“Cora, sweetheart… 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.” I shake my head through the gut wrenching sobs. “I don’t
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“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
Insertion is inevitable.” “Insertion is inevitable? You frighten me sometimes.”
“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.”
He holds me like a lover. Like my own, personal defender. Like my savior. After all, he saved me from a serial killer. He saved me from an overdose. He saved me from myself.
Then I whisper against her hair, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Cora lifts her head with a grin. “You know Shakespeare?” “We’ve never met. But I do know a sexy English teacher who often quotes him.” Her smile widens and she pecks a kiss to my chin. “I always used to think you were dumb, you know.” I laugh as my hand trails down her arm and lands on her hipbone. “Yeah. You would get so fired up when I’d pretend not to know something. It was cute as hell.” “You were the worst.”
