Ghost Bird The Academy: Jameson Addition.

About That Sawdust Pile: Part 2

"I have my mothers rage, and my fathers ability to walk away. This I've learned is a very lonely combination."

Darkness completely swallowed them.

The feeling of being trapped in the pile was surreal. It was as if warm water had surrounded her, the air growing heavier, thicker with each passing second. Tiny, phantom ants seemed to be dancing across her skin, making her twitch with unease.

Micah was fighting in her arms, his limbs flailing, kicking against her hold. James worked quickly to keep him calm, trying to steady him as best as she could in the suffocating dark.

Sang's arms were wrapped around her tightly, her nails digging into James' skin. Every few moments, she felt a tap on her shoulder, urgent, insistent. James tapped back with her elbow, refusing to loosen her grip on Micah.

Another sharp tap.

It was then that James realized the frantic movements from Micah were pulling them down deeper into the sawdust. She squeezed him tighter, trying to steady both of them.

"Micah, hold still," she murmured, her voice strained.

Slowly, his movements began to slow, his small hand seeking hers. She squeezed it, reassuring him, and hoped he understood the unspoken message. He finally stopped kicking, his hand now gripping hers, the other still clinging to either Derrick or Sang-James wasn't sure, and frankly, she didn't want to reach out to check.

The darkness around them was so suffocating it almost felt as though time stood still.

Then, a sharp yank at her shoulder pulled her upwards. Suddenly, she was positioned just below Sang and Derrick's heads, the shift of weight signaling that Derrick was holding both her and Sang up.

It was hard to see through the dark, but she could feel their bodies pressed against hers, the space around them small, suffocating. There was a faint pocket of air in the sawdust, but it barely helped.

"Hold her," Derrick's voice was strained, and James felt his grip on her loosen.

Sang didn't let go. She kept her hold tight on James, and in turn, James tightened her grip on Micah.

Derrick seemed to be holding the weight of the sawdust over their heads, just enough to give them a pocket of space to breathe. "Pull up Micah," he ordered.

James didn't hesitate. She pulled him up hard, the boy sputtering, gasping for air.

"Careful, Micah," she whispered urgently, "We can't breathe this shit in."

She cupped her hand over his mouth, her own breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps as she tried to steady him, keep him safe.

This puke better be thankful.

"I can't hold this up for long," Derrick said, his voice strained. "We need to protect our faces."

"Give Micah to Derrick," Sang said, and James didn't hesitate. She trusted the blonde completely. Micah was probably relieved to go to Derrick he seemed to have a way of calming the boy down.

James half-wondered if Micah kept kicking because he was afraid James would drop him. She wouldn't, not now. Not when they were sinking deeper into this nightmare.

She maybe thought about it.

That kid was a brat.

She felt the sawdust shift beside her, the pressure easing just slightly. It only took James a second to realize what Sang was doing, and she immediately followed her lead. She ripped off her shirt in a swift motion, tearing it in half.