Page 117 of Dante

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Twenty years of violence.

None of it prepared me for this.

Marina's head on my shoulder.

The simple act of being touched by someone who isn't trying to hurt me.

My chest aches. Not from the wound. From something deeper. Something I buried so long ago I forgot it existed.

On the screen, the ship breaks in half. People fall into the water. The woman holds onto a piece of wood while the man she loves freezes to death beside her.

Marina's breath hitches.

I feel it. The small movement of her body against mine.

She's crying again. Silently this time. Tears sliding down her cheeks and soaking into my shirt.

I should say something. Do something.

But I don't know how to comfort people. I know how to protect them. How to kill for them. How to die for them.

I don't know how to hold them while they cry.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I lean my head down.

Press my lips to her hair.

Marina gasps.

The sound cuts through me like a blade.

I freeze.

Fuck.

Too much. Too fast. I pushed too far.

I start to pull back.

Marina doesn't move.

She stays exactly where she is. Head on my shoulder. Body pressed against my arm. The blanket covering us both.

She doesn't run.

But she doesn't lean into me either.

I don't kiss her head again.

I don't want to scare her.

The movie plays on.

Marina

The movie keeps playing.

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