Page 99 of Still Beating

I nod, swallowing down my words, and reply to Dean. “I have to go.”

Another sigh of frustration filters in my ear, and it feels like a dagger to my heart. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

He disconnects the call, and it takes all of my willpower not to break down.

My mother is quickly by my side, rubbing her hand up and down my back. “Are you okay, honey? Do you need to talk?”

Yes. I probably do.

My parents have been nothing but supportive, despite the heinous crime I committed against their favorite daughter. But I’m not sure if it’s because they truly sympathize with me, or if they’re afraid I’ll attempt to take my life again if they ostracize me.

Ishouldtalk… Lord knows I could use some motherly advice right about now.

But I’m not ready.

“No. I’m fine,” I murmur with a shake of my head.

Her grip tightens as her palm moves up to my shoulder. “Sweetheart, I know we did everything we could to avoid inpatient treatment after you were released from the hospital, but if you think that’s what you need to help you through this, please let me know.”

“I don’t need to be thrown in the loony bin, Mom. I’m just trying to adjust.”

I was grateful I wasn’t transferred to an inpatient facility post-release. Since it was a first time offense with no history of mental disorder and no suicide note or indication of premeditation, I was allowed to go home. And I know I won’t ever do something like that again—as low and scary as things might get, Idowant to be alive. That night will forever be a stain on my memory. It will always be my biggest regret.

“Cora, there’s no shame in needing help. That’s what those services are there for. You’ve suffered immense trauma over the past few months—not just the abduction and the overdose, but you werepregnant, sweetie. It’s all so much… so heavy.”

I stiffen. I try not to think about the pregnancy. I bury it down, along with every other inconceivable blow I’ve been dealt since November. I don’t think about how it could have been Dean’s. I don’t think about how it could have beenhis. I want to be a mother more than anything one day, but not like that. No child deserves to be born out of the horrors of that basement. “I told you, I’m fine. I just need to get some rest,” I insist, escaping my mother’s grasp and moving past her. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Cora…”

I shuffle through the loft and down the stairs, grabbing my coat and keys. “Goodnight,” I shout, disappearing out the front door.

When I pull out of the driveway and head towards the main intersection, I hesitate before I choose a turn lane. My heart starts to thump with nervous beats as I contemplatenotgoing home. The sun has set and darkness is hovering, disguising what I know is wrong.

I don’t think too hard and swerve to the left, heading to the opposite end of town.

For the second night in a row, I’m walking up his cement sidewalk, unable to stay away. Only, this time he’s sitting on the front stoop smoking a cigarette. I halt my steps when our eyes meet and he blows a plume of smoke up towards the stars.

“You’re smoking again,” I note softly, stuffing my hands into my coat pockets.

His jaw sets as he takes a long drag, the embers flickering to life. The last time I saw him smoke was in his Camaro that night, right before Earl shattered my window.

And my soul.

“I need something to take the edge off.”

I duck my head, pressing my lips together. “Am I the edge?”

Dean stares right at me as puffs of smoke trail from his nostrils, then he kicks at a loose stone. “Yeah, Cora. You’re the edge.” He watches carefully as I take a few slow steps towards him. “Why are you here?”

I was really hoping he wouldn’t ask me that question. I offer a shrug in response.

He blinks through another drag. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Can we go inside?”

“No. I’m smoking.”

I quell my defenses and continue to approach him on the stoop. I perch myself between his legs, pushing his knees apart and reaching for his cigarette. I pluck the rolled paper from his loose grip, replacing it with my lips. Dean melts into me for one brief, exquisite moment, before pulling back and standing to his feet.

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