Page 84 of Still Beating

I realize I might come off like a stalker driving to her house in the middle of the night to console a woman who clearly wants her space. But I’m willing to take that risk because my instincts are screaming at me togo.

I’m knocking on her front door ten minutes later, after speeding my way over here, blowing two stop signs. The happy, turquoise door is a deceiving camouflage to the dejected woman residing on the other side of it. “Cora!” I call out. My knuckle taps turn into pounding fists when she doesn’t open the door. “Cora, open up. I’m worried about you.”

All I can hear on the other side is animal claws pacing the entryway, mingling with squeaky whines. I try the doorknob and heave in a breath of relief when it opens. But then I realize Cora never leaves her doors unlocked, and my relief fades back into concern.

Jude and Penny Lane greet me at the door for the first time, pacing around in circles. As I step through the threshold, both dogs go running down the hallway towards Cora’s bedroom, like they are beckoning me to follow. “Cora?” I try to make my presence known, so I don’t startle her. “Cora, it’s me. I’m just here to check on you.”

Nothing.

Fuck. I make my way through the living area, down the hall, and stop short of Cora’s room. Her light is on, but she’s clearly not awake. She’s lying on her back on top of the covers, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed, while the other is sprawled across the mattress, still clutching her cell phone. Both dogs are pawing at the side of the bed and whimpering.

“Cora.”

I step inside the room, my feet cautious at first. Unsure.

“Corabelle.”

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t flinch.

Is she even fucking breathing?

“No, no, no, no, no….” I feel like the air leaves my own lungs the moment the thought crosses my mind, and I dash over to her bedside, shaking her. “Cora. Cora!” She doesn’t respond. “Holy fuck…. Jesus…” My eyes catch sight of an empty bottle of sleeping pills tipped over on her nightstand and I fucking lose it. I climb on top of her, straddling her waist with my knees, and I press my ear to her chest as I continue to shake her.

This isn’t real.

This is a prank—a practical joke, just like that time I gave her the cornstarch donut and she pretended to faint. She’s about to wake up and say,“Gotcha”.Then she’ll laugh and laugh, and I’ll be so pissed off at her, but so,sorelieved that she’s okay.

But that doesn’t happen.

She is still, lifeless, and I flash back to Blizzard lying on that dog bed in the middle of the hospital room looking eerily similar.

“No… God, no, Cora. Come back to me. Fuckingpleasedon’t do this…”

I pull my phone out of my pocket, almost dropping it as my hands start violently trembling. I punch in the numbers 9-1-1 and ramble off the situation to the dispatch operator, sounding like a crazed, desperate man. And I am.

I am.

I’m instructed to perform CPR. I carry her from the bed and lay her down on the floor, pressing against her chest like I’ve seen in the movies. Then I tip her head back, pinch her nose, and breathe my life into her mouth.

“Is she breathing?” the operator asks over the speaker.

I reach for her wrist and try to find a pulse. I place my ear to her heart again.

God, I can’t tell.

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know….”

“Okay. Just stay on the line and help will be there soon. Continue the chest compressions, fast and hard…”

The voice fades out as I continue to press against her chest, occasionally stopping to search for a sign of life. “Don’t you leave me, Corabelle. I fuckingloveyou. 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.

The sirens sound in the distance as I break down on top of her, weeping and shaking.

What have I done?

What the hell have I done?

Chapter Twenty-Four

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