Page 57 of The Rhythm of their Souls

I lean down, cradling her small head in my hands, tilting it back to ensure her airways are completely open. I close her tiny nose with a gentle yet firm pinch, sealing it shut. Taking a deep breath, I blow air into her mouth twice, each puff feeling both urgent and delicate. As I sit back on my heels, my eyes are fixed on her chest, but it remains still, unresponsive.

With growing concern, I repeat the steps, feeling a pang of guilt as I press my weight onto her fragile chest; it feels like I might crush her small frame, and my heart is heavy with worry.

I breathe my air into her mouth once more, willing to sacrifice the air in my lungs for her. The feeling of desperation takes over me. I pause, listening and watching her chest for movements. Still nothing. The night is silent. My breath becomes shaky as I run my hands through my hair. I bring my eyes to her face, realizing I’ve failed her. Tears brim the corners of my eyes. I should have been with her.

Feeling helpless, I grab my phone from the floor and dial 911. Just as I go to click the call button, I hear a weak sound come from Olive’s mouth. I freeze, focusing on her; a few seconds pass, and I see her chest slowly rise and fall. A sound leaves my mouth that I’ve never heard before, and relief surges through my entire body.

I lean down softly, brushing strands of hair from her delicate face. Her mouth is now parted, and the beautiful sounds of breaths rush through her lips. Her eyes remain closed as life slowly comes back to her. I so badly want to kiss her but refrain from doing so. My head falls back as I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing and thanking God for answering my selfless prayer.

I bring my watery gaze back to the young, beautiful woman who captured my heart from our very first hello. I gently wrap my arms under her neck and legs, lifting her into my lap. Cradling her tightly, I lay her against my chest and rest my cheek on her head.

I close my eyes, listening closely to Olive’s steady breathing—a sacred sound that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

“You are okay,” I whisper into her silky hair.

I promise myself that I will never leave her side again, no matter what happens. I know she will resist, and that’s perfectly fine. I love her feisty spirit; it’s one of the qualities that drew me to her in the first place.

She can challenge me day and night. I don’t care. Olive Sage Landers, you are mine, forever.

Chapter 29

The familiar smell of oak clouds all my waking senses as my eyes slowly open. The loud ringing sound gradually dissipates from my ears. I blink profusely, trying to clear my blurred vision. My head feels foggy from the deep sleep I was in. Confusion doesn’t take long to wash over me as I regain consciousness.

Strong arms are wrapped tightly around my body, cradling me close. A deep, rich voice whispers above me, “You are okay.” I take a moment to realize that it’s Theo’s voice.

I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again, remaining still as I scan my surroundings. It’s dark here, except for a small light shining nearby. Tilting my head up, I see Theo looking down at me. Although it’s hard to see clearly, I notice his brows relax, and a small smile spreads across his face. He looks relieved.

I search my brain for answers to what happened and where we are. I try replaying what I can remember, but I draw a blank. And when I try to speak, words won’t form.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Olive,” Theo whispers softly, squeezing me gently.

My eyes shift back and forth, searching for answers. I yank his arms off of me, acid burning through my esophagus. I lift myself too quickly, my legs almost giving out. I spread my arms, trying to balance like a baby learning to walk. My legs feel like Jell-O beneath me.

Theo tries to reach for me, but I swat his arms away aggressively. My equilibrium feels out of whack, causing me to sway back and forth. I wait a few more seconds, trying to give my body time to regain its strength. I take a few wobbly steps.

From my peripheral, I catch Theo quickly standing behind me. “Olive, please don’t,” he pleads with remorse. Just as I slightly turn, attempting to form words to ask him what he’s talking about, my eyes catch on her…

Disbelief rattles through me as I stare at Nora Ray’s lifeless body. It’s within seconds that the events of the night erupt in my mind, replaying everything that happened, each moment like a bullet wound to my feeble heart. My hands fly over my mouth just as my legs give out.

Theo wraps his arms from behind me, saving me from collapsing to the floor. I slowly crumble onto my knees, with Theo crouched behind me, arms still wrapped tight around my waist.

My eyes stay fixed on my sister’s cold, pale body. The realization hits me hard: Nora is dead because I couldn’t save her. She is gone forever. I try to scream, but my throat feels constricted as if a python is wrapped around my neck, slowly tightening its grip on my airways. A numbing emptiness replaces the ache in my chest.

I no longer struggle as Theo pulls me into his embrace, cradling me like a fragile child. My eyes remain locked on my sister, and the warmth within me evaporates, replaced by a numbing cold that grips my heart. Tears that long to escape break free, cascading to the floor like delicate icicles in a silent winter.

The moment Nora died, a part of me left with her, leaving me hollow and adrift in my newest friend: grief.

I lay restless in my bed, replaying the night that changed everything for me. When it’s not consuming my thoughts, it haunts my dreams. Three miserable weeks have passed since my sister’s death, and things have not improved. If anything, they’ve only gotten worse.

The days blend together; I often find myself unsure of what day it is.

Sometimes, I forget she’s gone and reach for my phone to call or text her. Then the reality hits me all over again—a painful jab to my chest that knocks the breath out of me. First comes the shock, followed by disbelief, dread, and finally, a wave of weariness.

My mind seems to be working against me, or perhaps it’s the lack of sleep and proper nutrition. I can’t remember the last time I had a full meal.

Once, I loved eating, but now I have to force a granola bar down my throat just to keep my body from shutting down. It’s strange how the body and mind interact. During traumatic events, one craves nourishment while the other insists on starvation. I don’t know; maybe it’s different for others.

But how can I eat or focus on my health when I am constantly reminded that my sister is no longer here? I feel guilty for eating, hell, even breathing, for that matter. Life can be so unfair and cruel. She had so much life to live and spent most of it protecting me as best as possible. I am not worthy of living on, am I?