My hand hovers over the studio door uncertainly. One phone call from Bianca is all it’s taken to drag me down here, yet I don’t even know why I’m here. It’s not a class day, and I can’t think of anything she could say in person she couldn’t tell me over the phone.

I curl my fingers around the handle and pull it open. The faint sounds of the piano drift back to me, and I realize Friday’s are one of the days she teaches her younger class. Now I’m even more confused why I’m here. Still, I walk down the hall and peek through the door.

Two rows of little girls dressed in baby pink, lilac or pale blue leotards face the front, all doing demi-plies perfectly in time with the music. My lips curve into a smile. They all look adorable.

Bianca notices me and says something to the girls. They all nod, never breaking their dancing. She walks toward me, tall and regal, and joins me in the hall.

“I’m glad you came down,” she says.

“I’m a little confused why you needed me here.”

“It’s simple.” Bianca smiles. “A friend runs a ballet studio on the other side of the city for teens, and she’s putting on a production at the end of August of Swan Lake. The group of children she was using for the animals are no longer able to be a part of it, and as the show is a sell-out, she refuses to cancel it. She contacted me last night and asked if my girls would like to take the place of the animals. It means a lot of hard work for them, but I know they can do it.”

“And where do I come into this?” I look from the tiny dancers to Bianca.

“I can’t keep my eyes on every single girl as they learn the steps. Their time to learn their parts is limited, so I need help.”

“You … You want me to help?”

“I can’t think of anyone better for it.” She touches my arm. “I’m not asking this as a favor, Abbi, I’m hiring you to help me. I’ll pay you, and who knows, if everything works well, I may have need of an assistant permanently.”

I swallow, pressing my fingers to the window. “I don’t know if I can do it. I mean, I don’t know if I’m ready to do something like that.”

“I called Dr. Hausen this morning,” Bianca admits quietly. “I asked her for her opinion, and she believes it’ll be good for you. She and I both agree that having a job will focus your mind on something other than the way you’ve been feeling lately–”

“You noticed.”

“And there’s no better job for you than doing this – the very thing you love. I adore letting myself go and dancing, but my favorite part of everything is watching the delight on one of these girls’ faces when they finally get that step they’ve been stuck on for ages. And–” She taps my shoulder, making me look at her. “There’s nothing better than seeing someone find herself and start to live again.”

“I guess you’re right. It would be good for me, and ballet does make me feel alive. Really alive.”

“Having an incredibly handsome partner with a British accent goes a long way, too.” Bianca winks at me playfully. I blush. “I knew it!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie, my lips twitching. “Blake and I are friends. Very good friends.”

“Abbi, honey, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. There’s no friendship in that look.” She pats my shoulder, leaning into the door, ready to open it. “But as much as I’d love to go all gossip girl on you and grill you, that’s not my business. I also have a class to teach, and perhaps an assistant to introduce?”

I drop my small smile, take a deep breath in, and gaze at the girls. They’re still dancing, all in perfect sync. It wouldn’t be hard to teach them. I know Swan Lake’s dances like I know mine and Blake’s pas de deux. Besides, if Dr. Hausen thinks it’s a good idea … Maybe it’s time to step outside of my comfort zone again.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Bianca beams and opens the door. She claps her hands three times, and the girls all stop, moving into first position. I hover by the door, my stomach rolling as nerves kick in. I clasp my hands in front of my stomach to hide their gentle shake.

“Girls, I have someone to introduce to you.” Bianca gestures to me. “This is Abbi, and she’s my new assistant. She’ll be helping me in your classes for the next few months.”

I walk toward Bianca slowly, feeling twelve pairs of inquisitive eyes on me. “Hi, everyone.” I wave slightly.

“You’re all wondering why I have an assistant. Right?” Bianca looks out at the nodding heads. “Well, at the end of the summer, instead of doing our usual production here for your parents you’ll be part of a larger one on stage. A friend of mine is putting on Swan Lake, and she needs some animals. I told her I have twelve little animals in my lower class that would be perfect for her.”

Gasps and squeals radiate through the group, and I can’t help but smile at the looks on their little faces. They’re completely shocked but wearing the biggest smiles known to man, and the excitement shining from their wide eyes is testament to how much they want to do this.

“It’s going to mean a lot of hard work from you, girls, and perhaps some Saturday sessions, too. That’s why I have Abbi; she’s kindly agreed to help me teach you your dances. She’s one of the best dancers in my higher group, so in ten years’ time when she’s jetting around the world as a famous ballerina, I expect you all to brag about how she taught you to dance in your first on-stage ballet.” Bianca winks at me again. “Now, I’m going to be really naughty, so sssh. I’m going to get a glass of water and leave you with Abbi to get to know each other for ten minutes.”

All the girls immediately crowd around me, excitedly bouncing. I get the feeling their excitement is more from the news they’ll be doing their first dance in a real theatre, but I feel wanted nonetheless. And it feels kind of … nice.

“You really gotta stop throwing me these curveballs,” I mutter as Bianca passes me.

“I have no idea what you mean.” She leaves the studio, followed by her uncle, and I’m suddenly alone with twelve very chatty seven and eight year olds.

“How about we all sit down?” I suggest, looking out at a sea of faces. “Then we can all chat easier. Okay?”

Choruses of “yeah” and “okay” come to me, and I sit cross-legged on the studio floor. They all copy me, sitting with their backs perfectly straight.

“How about we introduce ourselves first? Our name, age, and a little something about us. I’ll start.” I shift slightly. “I’m Abbi, I’m eighteen, and I’m training with Bianca to get into Juilliard.”

As we travel around the group, I learn names I’ve already forgotten and the strangest facts about them. Kids really don’t have a brain-to-mouth filter, and I have to stifle my giggles more than once.

“Okay, now that I know you all, do you have any questions for me?”

Rosie, a small girl with brown hair puts her hand up. “Have you ever danced Swan Lake?”

I nod. “Lots. It’s my favorite ballet.”

“How many characters have you been?”

“Quite a few. I was Odette when I was sixteen for our Christmas production.”

“I thought everyone danced The Nutcracker at Christmas?” Bailey, a blonde girl, pipes up.

“Sometimes, sometimes not,” I answer. “I did that when I was a bit older than you.”

“I bet you played Clara.”

I don’t know who said that, but I gasp in pretend shock. “How did you know?”

“You look like a Clara,” the same voice says matter-of-factly.

“Have you ever been on a really big theatre stage?” Another voice.

“Yep. Lots of times.”

“What’s it like?”

I smile, remembering the feeling of being free on the stage in the darkness, save for one spotlight on you. “It’s the best thing ever. It’s really fun, and not nearly as scary as you think it’ll be. You’ll see.”

“What if we’re too scared to try?” A small voice asks me. I look in the direction of it, and it belongs to a red-haired girl hiding behind her hand whose name I don’t remember.

“I don’t believe any of you are too scared to try. I bet you’d all be awesome on stage.”

“But there’s so many people.”

“It’s dark,” I counter. “You can’t see them, and you forget all about them when you dance. I promise. And, don’t tell Bianca I said this …” I gesture for them all to lean in, and they do. “But if you’re really, really, really scared, just imagine all of the audience in their underwear with bunny rabbit ears on their head.”

All the girls burst into laughter, giggling uncontrollably. I grin at them all, knowing I’ve made the right decision to help Bianca with them.

If twelve happy, excited faces can’t brighten my day three times a week, then there’s no way I should be out of St. Morris’.

 

~

 

The house is eerily quiet with Mom and Dad away on a business trip. It’s the first they’ve taken since I came home, and the freedom is wonderful. There are no worried eyes glancing at me if I’m still in my pajamas at midday or intent stares whenever I go near the cutlery draw.

If I stood a chance at not burning my toast, I’d really enjoy buttering it.

I’m a little scared. The knowledge of what I could do is tormenting me. The weight of my pain from the last few days – although peppered with everything that’s good – is slowly getting too much to bear. Now I’m alone, it feels heavier than ever. So I do what I should do and pick up the phone to call Dr. Hausen before Blake arrives to practice.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Dr. Hausen answers.

“I’m home alone this weekend and I’m scared,” I blurt out.

“What–”

“I’m scared I won’t be strong enough to fight the urges if I have a bad night. The last time I was home alone was the night that was almost my last. What do I do if I feel like that again? Maddie isn’t here this time.”

“Abbi … Abbi,” she says softly. “I need you to breathe for me. Like we practiced before. Slowly.”

She’s right. I need to calm down. I need to breathe. I close my eyes with the phone still against my ear and breathe slowly to Dr. Hausen’s counting. It takes a few minutes, but eventually my breathing goes back to normal.

“Good. That’s good. How are you now?”

“I’m okay. It was just … A moment.”

“We’re all allowed a moment every now and then, Abbi. They make it better – they allow you to let it all out.”

I nod, like I’m reassuring myself. “Right. Moments are okay. I know that.”

“You do know that, and that’s why I’m certain you’ll be fine this weekend. You know how to stop the panic attacks and you know how to battle the urges. The only difference is that this time, you must do it for yourself, and not your parents. That’s all.”

“For myself,” I mutter. “Okay. Myself.” I sigh heavily.

“I’m on call this weekend. If you need me, you know where I am. You can call or you could even come to St. Morris’ if you need the company.”

I promised myself the day I left I’d never go back unless it was for our sessions, but it sounds almost appealing right now. I can’t deny I’m tempted, but I draw on that inner strength everyone is so certain I have and politely refuse.

“Blake will be here tonight to practice, and I can always go and see Bianca in the studio if I need to. I think I’m just panicking for no reason. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.

“You know where I am if you need anything.” The line clicks off, and I put my cell down.

Deathly silence wraps around me, allowing whispers to nudge at my mind. Allowing twitches to take my fingers. Allowing my teeth to bite down on the inside of my cheek.

I grab the remote and turn on the television to drown it out. Despite what I said to Dr. Hausen only a moment ago, I’m not sure I will be okay. My eyes flick to the clock above the fireplace to see how much longer I have to be alone. Blake should be here any second, so I sit on my hands and blow out my cheeks. But the whispers are still there.

They’re always there.

In the back of my mind, they start off almost completely silently, getting louder and louder every minute you ignore them until they’re screaming at you. Until their shouts and yells take over everything else, until the urges they support are the only things you can focus on.

I focus on the Gilmore Girls, listening to their voices instead of the anxiety building in my body. Goddammit, where is Blake? I rock forward slightly and push my whole body weight into my hands to stop myself. My eyes travel to the window where I can see the sun illuminate the low-lying clouds as it begins its descent.

Descent. Rib to hip. Knee to Ankle. Ankle to toe.

I screw my eyes shut, shaking my head.

Descent. Eyes to feet. Fist to cheek. Cheek to floor.

And I can feel it pulling me under. A memory of my own creation, born of my own anxiety. I can feel the tug in my mind and the shake of my body as faint music replaces the television and Pearce’s hands replace mine.

 

 

“Pearce,” I’d begged him. “Please, let’s just go. You know Owen won’t ever give you what he owes you, not when you still owe his brother money.”

“It’s not even his real fucking brother, Abbi. You know that. Owen’s just a spineless little dick who hides behind him.”

“It doesn’t matter what Owen is. You know he won’t pay up!”

He grabbed my arm and slammed my back against the brick wall. Pain seared through me, but I bit my lip and hid my grimace.

“Gary isn’t here this weekend. Five minutes inside Owen’s house with him, and the asshole will cough up the cash.”

“You don’t know that,” I whispered.

“You’re not stupid, Abbi. You know I’ll get my money.” His eyes burned into me, anger sparking deep in them. “Don’t you? You know I’ll get it.”

I said nothing. He pushed me further into the wall.

“Don’t you?!”

“Yes,” I replied quietly, turning my face away from him. “I know you will.”

“Good.” He released me without another word and stormed down the street toward Owen’s house. I followed him slowly, letting my feet drag against the floor. My arm throbbed where he grabbed me, and I was certain there was a scrape on my back from the rough brickwork of the wall. I put a hand to my arm and flinched.

And I hoped to God there wasn’t a hand print there. I could explain away a bruise if anyone saw it, but there was no explaining a hand print.

 

 

Loud knocks at the door pull me from my past, and my arm burns. I look down and see my hand wrapped around it in the same place Pearce bruised me. A handprint never came, but that wasn’t the worst injury that night. The worst one was the cut across my leg from the glass he threw.

I say worst, but it was both the worst and the best. It had stung me and numbed me at the same time. It had made it easier to take the verbal abuse he’d inevitably thrown at me like it was my fault Gary had cancelled his weekend away and given Pearce a black eye for his troubles.

“Abbi!” Blake yells over his knocks, reminding me he’s there.

I lower my hand from my arm and walk toward the front door. The whispers are there still, stronger, begging me to do the very thing I promised myself I wouldn’t. I stretch my fingers out, even digging my nails into my palms too tempting. Even the sting from that would be bad. Too much. Too tempting.

I open the door and look up at Blake. His hand pauses in mid-air and his eyes flit over my face, taking me in.

“What …” he says softly. “Oh, Abbi.”

I look at him, not saying a thing as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. His hands frame my face, and he wipes away the tears falling down my face. I drop my eyes, hiding them although he’ll never know the reason I’m crying and shaking.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, pulling me into him. I shake my head against him, my arms hanging limply by my sides. His touch quiets the whispers but it’s not enough. They’re still there.

“I think I need to be alone tonight.” I pry myself from his hands and wander into my kitchen.

“Hell no. You’re not getting rid of me that bloody easily.” His footsteps echo as he follows me.

I cross my arms and look out the window, my back to him. “I think I need to be alone,” I repeat.

“I’m not even thinking about leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, if you can call crying and shaking like fuck ‘fine’!”

I flinch at the volume of his voice. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Abbi.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I do. I want to know what’s got you so upset. What’s hurting you so much?”

“I said …” I grit my teeth. “No!”

“Goddammit, Abs!” he shouts. “Don’t push me away like this! Let me help you!”

“I don’t need help!” The words are a blatant lie, but my next are the truth. “This depression … It’s destroying me even more than before. Slowly, it’s tearing me apart inside. I fight it every day. God, I fight it! Every day it’s a fight to get up, to get dressed, to leave the house. Every single day I’m haunted by things that have been and it’s hard. It’s so damn hard, but I have to keep fighting. I have to do it alone. No one can help me – only I can do that. Only I can make it all better, but I don’t even know if I can, so Mom, Dad, Dr. Hausen, Bianca, even you … You can’t make it better. You can’t make it go away.

“You can’t save me, Blake. Do you get that? You. Can’t. Save. Me.” I turn around, dropping my arms to my sides, and meet his emotion-filled green eyes. “I’ve tried to believe it. I want to believe it, but I’m not a princess, Juilliard isn’t a fairytale castle, and you aren’t a prince riding in on a white horse to slay the dragon. Some things in life aren’t worth saving, and some aren’t able to be saved. I’m pretty sure I can’t be saved.”

“You’re wrong. You can be saved if you’d just let me help you!”

Impulsively I grab a glass from the side and smash it on the floor. Anger, helplessness, frustration, pain; they all heighten inside me to almost an uncontrollable level. But Blake doesn’t even flinch. His eyes don’t even fall to the glass. They never leave mine.

“Can you save that, Blake?” I gesture to the glass, my chest heaving with every breath I’m suddenly struggling to take. “Can you?!”

“You can’t compare yourself to a broken glass; that’s different.”

“No, it’s not. Not at all. You see those pieces on the floor? There are hundreds of thousands of shards, and no matter how hard you try will you never be able to get them all and put them back together. Even if you do, it won’t be perfectly. There will always, always be a part missing from it. There will always be one piece that you won’t be able to keep hold of.

“I am that glass! I’m shattered, torn, broken. I’m irreparable.” I walk backwards into the wall, my whole body tight. My trembling hands flatten against the wall, and I keep eye contact with him. “It doesn’t matter how hard you try. I’ll never be whole again. I’ll never be the princess climbing onto the back of your horse. I will never, ever be the same person I was before.”

He steps forward, and when he speaks, there’s desperation tinging his tone. “You’re not the person you used to be because that was never the person you were meant to be. I want to help you, Abs. I wish you’d let me help you!”

“I don’t want your help!” I scream, pushing myself into the wall and hanging my head. “I don’t want your help. I want you to leave. I want to be alone.”

The sharp, cooling slice of a blade drifting across skin. The slow, stinging parting of flesh. The warm, relieving trickling of blood. Red against white.

“So you can search your house top to bottom for something sharp enough to cut yourself with?” His words are shorter and sharper than I’ve ever heard him use, the venom in them chilling me.

My breath catches and my head snaps back up. Our gazes collide. He looks nothing like the Blake I know. His eyes are cold, every sparkle and shine gone from them as they burn into me, slicing into me harder than any blade ever could. I try to curl my fingers into my palms, craving the feeling of my nails digging into them. A brief respite.

“Is that it?” he says in the same biting tone.

Nails. Palm. Sting.

“No,” I answer, but my voice is weak and unconvincing even to me.

“Open your hands,” he orders. I shake my head, bringing my fisted hands to my stomach. “Open your hands!”

“No!”

His feet thud against the wooden floor as he storms over to me. His hands close around my fists, his fingers prying between mine.

“No!” I cry again, feeling the heat of tears fall over my eyes as he succeeds in dragging my nails away.

“I won’t let you do this to yourself.” He grinds his teeth, holding my hands tightly.

“You don’t understand!” I sob, my throat closing up as panic takes me over. “You don’t get it. I need something. I haven’t for so long, but I can’t do it anymore. I need it. I can’t keep remembering. It hurts too much. Let me go. Please.”

I shake my arms and kick out at him, desperately trying to get him to let me go. My body thrashes as he pushes his against mine, trapping me against the wall, and I scream, feeling Pearce press against me instead of Blake.

I’m hurled back in time yet again.

Pearce. Music. Alcohol. Drugs. His hand. My face.

“Sssshh.”

I’m rocking. And screaming. Screaming loudly, a scream that breaks even my heart. I can’t breathe. Panic. Weight on my body. I need to get it off. Get him off. Get him away.

“Get off. Please. Let me … Go. Now. Please,” I sob out. “Don’t hurt me. Please.” I stretch my legs out, and my face is buried in a shoulder.

“I have you.” British accent. Blake. “You are safe, Abbi. I promise you.”

I’m shaking. Hard. I want him to let me go and hold me at the same time. “No. Never safe.”

“Yes,” he whispers in my ear, his arms tightening slightly around me. My fingers are curled into his shirt, holding him as tight as he’s holding me. “I promise you, you will always be safe around me.”

I swallow, closing my eyes, and try to regain control of my breathing just like Dr. Hausen taught me. Deep breaths, count to three. In, out. In, out.

“I will never be safe,” I whisper hoarsely. “There’s nothing outside that can hurt me any more than what is inside. You don’t understand that.”

“Oh, I understand.” He breathes out shakily. “I understand that better than you think.”

“You don’t. You won’t ever get it.”

He releases me, his hands moving to either side of my face. My eyes open. Our faces are perfectly aligned. I’m still grasping his shirt, and he wipes his thumbs under my eyes.

“You know Tori died. What you don’t know is I watched her slice deeper and deeper every day until she finally hit gold.” His voice quivers. “And I didn’t do a single fucking thing to stop her, because everyone made me believe it was for attention. I’ve lived with that guilt for ten years. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit here and watch you do the same thing.”

More tears stream from my eyes at the raw pain in his voice, and I remember and I know. I know because I was so close. So, so close. I was minutes away from nothing, then Maddie found me.

“Saving me won’t bring her back,” I croak. “It won’t make it easier and it won’t make it go away. Don’t save me to make up for not saving her. I’m not a project.”

“I never said you were.” His voice drops to a bare whisper and he puts one of his hands into my hair, his fingers threading through it. “I’m not trying to save you because I couldn’t save her. I’m trying to save you because I don’t think I could cope if I lost you too.”

Tears brim in his eyes, and I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. I imagine how we must look right now, crouched on my kitchen floor, both of us shaking. Both of us crying. Both of us broken, yet holding onto each other like that’s all that can fix us.

“I won’t watch you do it too. You are so, so much stronger than that. You are so much stronger than she was, Abs.” He moves his thumb under my eye to wipe away the wetness there. “You are everything I wish my sister was and so much more, and it’s that so much more that means you can push me away all you like because I won’t go. That darkness you have inside, the one that pulls you under, I swear I won’t let you fall into it. I won’t let you fall anywhere unless it’s my arms you’re falling into.”

I shake my head because I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want to fall anywhere. At all. Because falling means hitting the bottom, and hitting the bottom means pain. Hurt. Anguish.

And I have enough of that.

“I’m not strong, Blake. Not really. I still feel everything and I still think the bad things. I still want to give in. Depression … it’s like drowning, like being pulled to the bottom of the ocean, except everyone around you is swimming and breathing on the surface. It’s like being in a crowd of people where you’re screaming and no one can hear you. It’s everything nightmares are made of.”

“Then let me be the one to teach you swim again,” he whispers, moving his face to mine. “Let me hear you and let me be the one to remind you how to live.”

A shudder wracks my body, and I feel the tightening of my chest that always precedes the suffocation of the darkness. I release his shirt and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face into his skin. Blake’s arms go round my body in one smooth movement, holding me tightly against him, and he moves us so his back is against the wall and I’m sitting on him.

I still feel it. I want to feel the sting. I want the sharpness of the blade against my flesh. I want the release it gives me. Until Blake presses his lips to my temple and my heart thuds once. Loudly. Reminding me I’m still alive.

And all there is, is Blake. The feel of his arms around mine. My skin against his. His breath against my ear. The tightness of his hold, so tight it rivals the tightness of the hold my depression has on me.

The sudden clarifying reminder that pain doesn’t have to equal feeling. I can live without hurting. I can live without the sting.

My fingers thread into his hair, and he bends his face into mine even though it’s still pressed against his neck. He cups my chin and nudges my face upwards. Our eyes meet, and the tears that were brimming in his not long ago have spilled down his cheeks.

“You don’t need it. I promise. You’re more than that. Don’t let it all destroy the person I know,” he whispers and his lip quivers. “Let me help you, Abbi. Not because of my sister or anything else. Let me help you because I need to.”

“I can’t replace her.”

“I know. I don’t want you to replace her. I want you to be you. I don’t want another sister. I want you. That’s it. I don’t want us to be skirting around the topic of us anymore. I want you and all your shattered pieces, if you think you can handle all my broken bits.”

“I don’t know.”

“Try. Because I won’t stop trying.”

I have no doubt. He hasn’t stopped trying since our first dance together, and his eyes promise me what his words do. So no matter how much it scares me, no matter how much I want to hide, I give him what he deserves. What, in my heart, I truly want.

“I’ll try.”

Because amidst all the chaos and heartbreak holding us together, he is my light in the dark.