Page 9 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

Blinking, the heavy darkness surrounds me. I’m used to a fire, something to light up the area, but right now, there is nothing but pure night. Not even the moon is shining, as the dreaded rain clouds have come back and covered it, though as of right now, it hasn’t started raining. Gosh, I hope it doesn’t, because if it does then we will get cold, fast.

Pushing to my feet, heart racing, I try to look around but I can’t see anything.

A panic grips me, one I haven’t felt at all since I’ve been here. It’s like this deep desperation, as if I am trapped in a nightmare I can’t get out of.

“Hey.”

A voice from the darkness.

Ace.

“You good?”

It’s then I realise my breathing is heavy, as if I am panting after a run.

I can’t answer him, my hands wave out in front of me, hating that I can’t see.

A warm hand curls around one of them, and then I’m being pulled into a hard, familiar chest.

Every part of me knows I should push him away, I should push him off, but I can’t seem to make myself move. Not when his arms circle me, a comfort I didn’t even realise I needed. When my face squashes into his chest a little deeper, and I can hear his heartbeat, I know that I am done for. I couldn’t step back now, even if I tried. Even if I wanted to, pulling away in this second would make this situation feel so much worse.

So, I stay.

I stand there in the perfect black, rigid, insides shaking. Ace doesn’t say anything, just holds me. The way he always holds me—like someone who knows how to fight, but also like someone who could shatter if you dropped him hard enough. I wonder if it’s possible to be both.

For a long time, it’s just my heartbeat, and the foggy, too-warm breath shared between us. I never thought I’d be the kind of person who needed to be held by anyone, especially not like this. Especially not by Ace, who I still haven’t forgiven for what he did, or what he’s done, which is just about everything.

But in the black, it’s hard to sort out all the ways I want to punish him.

“I hate the dark,” I whisper.

His hand settles against my hair. He smells of salt and smoke. “You’re alright, Gracie. We’re all alright.”

I shake my head so hard I think he will feel it in his jaw. “I’m not, though. I’m not.”

He pulls me tighter, until his stupid heartbeat is the only thing in the universe that makes sense. “You want to sit?”

I nod, or maybe I just collapse, because suddenly I’m on the ground, and he’s still holding on. The cave air is cool, but our bodies are warm, pressed together. The darkness is so thick it feels like being underwater, and all the bad memories want to crawl up my throat and choke me. I can’t keep it in. Maybe it’s the pirates, or the situation, or maybe I’m just so damn tired.

But I lose it.

I don’t mean to, and I don’t want to, but I do. The first sob bubbles up and before I can even try to force it down, it expands, until it fills me, until it’s all I can do to breathe through the pain. He doesn’t say anything stupid like Don’t cry or It’ll be okay. He just rubs my back in slow, careful circles, letting me cry until there’s nothing left in me.

I don’t know how long I sit there, ugly-crying into his chest. He doesn’t move. My breathing gets raspy and I finally pull back, swiping my face. It’s pitch dark but I can feel those eyes on me. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“For what?”

I shake my head. “I shouldn’t be like this. I should be the strong one. I should...”

He cuts me off. “You don’t have to be anything. We’re all just doin’ the best we can.”

“This is all so fucked.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he murmurs, against my hair.

“I don’t see how.”

“You let me talk to you, you let me back in, let me explain...”