My head was spinning. My mind was racing. I was losing patience, waiting for someone to save me from this hellhole I buried myself within.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I didn’t believe this was real. I was convinced this was a cynical and miserable high and I was losing my mind. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I wasn’t real either.
Get it together, Dakota, I thought, mentally slapping myself. Snap out of it. Only if I could, but all I’m doing is running from my problems. I killed my best friend. My ex-boyfriend hates me. I have nothing left to live for, so why am I even trying?
I was too numb to think rationally. All my thoughts were negative. I’ve thought of hundreds of ways to end my life, but to be truthful, I was terrified of leaving the world behind. I couldn’t get myself to go through with any of my thoughts.
I run inside of my mom’s house, rushing past her as she calls my name, asking why I was running in the house. Before she started yelling at me, like I knew she would, I escaped to the bathroom with my favorite clothes, hoping she didn’t notice the blood that stained my jeans and covered my hands. I turn the shower water on, stripping out of my bloodied clothes, looking myself in the mirror, disgusted by what I saw.
On my hip, a small, pink scar exists. A mark from my first of many self-harm cuts. I caused this one during the first month of shit I went through after Jackson cheated on me.
As I gazed across my bare legs, I saw more lines of various sizes. Some deeper than others. Some uglier than others. Looking up my arm, I start crying as the memories of my past come back to me.
**Flashback**
Being with Jackson like this, cuddling on the couch together hasn’t felt this great in a long time. Maybe it was because of all the pink-and-white plastic pills we popped together. Maybe it was the way I felt safe around him, invincible to the world’s pain.
I didn’t know what was really different about this situation, but I definitely wasn’t complaining. I loved the way he was holding me like this. So eagerly, but careful. He had his hand on my waist and I had mine on his t-shirt. I loved him dearly and, even if I was under the influence, I knew he would never hurt me.
“How’s my little angel tonight?” Jackson asks, brushing his fingers on my cheek, causing me to blush.
“G-good,” I managed to stutter out, not being able to form words very well. “I-I feel v-very safe with you,” I say, knowing I meant it.
He smirks a little, which I didn’t register much at the time, but looking back, I felt like an idiot. He kissed my neck slowly, causing me to cry out in need. I wasn’t fully aware of what he wanted from me, but I was in for a hell of a treat.
“I want you, Kota.” He moved so I was on his waist, and I felt something grow in his jeans, which slightly disgusted me, but also turned me on a little, frightening as it was.
“W-what?” I stutter, shocked by his forwardness. “Y-you, what?”
“I want you, Kota,” he repeats, moving me across his waist, brushing my jeans with his, causing me to whimper in fright and regretful need.
“Y-n-” was all I could manage in protest, too heavily drugged to stop what happened next. He pushed me on my back, climbing on me, pressing me hard against the couch, completely taking control of me. My heart was racing as he stripped me of my clothes. I was officially afraid of my boyfriend. “H-hey! N-no, stop! Please, I’m not ready yet.” I tried to push him off of me, but it was my like trying to move a boulder, which usually I adored, but this time it scared the ever-living hell out of me.
He grabbed a wine glass, which was still spiked from earlier, broke it against the grab and slashed my arm with the broken glass. I screamed in agony, and he cupped my mouth with his palm, holding it shut so I would stop. “Please,” I begged, gasping, when he let me breathe, “please, baby! I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you say, please.”
I really didn’t mean what I said, obviously, but I wanted him to let me go so I could escape, but as he was mounting, he continued to cut and beat me, ignoring my pleas for mercy. He grumbled when his arm’s got tired (I could tell by the uneven swinging of them), and let me free, mostly, but all I had to do was kick him in the groin, bolting towards the bathroom locking the door behind me.
I heard him yelling at me to come back and that he was sorry, but I ignored him, jumping in fright when he pounded on the door. “Leave me alone!” I scream at him, sobbing in fear. I pat my sides, searching frantically for my phone in my jean-pockets. When I found it, I immediately dialed the only person I knew I could trust.
“Hello?” A melodic voice questions.
“Oh, thank god, Dawn. I need your help. I’m in my bathroom, just pull up behind the house. Don’t let him see you.”
“Wait- what happened?” She asks, concern layering her voice. “And who’s ‘him’?” I could hear her rushing and the clank of her keys, as if she dropped them, rushing outside.
Just then, I hear a loud bang and feel a sharp zip feeling next to my ear before it starts ringing. Jackson’s fucking insane! What the hell?? My hearing was shot and from the force of the bullet, even though it never contacted my body, I was knocked on the ground. “What the hell was that?” Dawn shrieked into the receiver, which I didn’t register very well.
“W-what?” I ask, not stunned anymore.
“What was that?” She said again, this time I was able to hear her clearly.
“Jackson just shot a hole in the bathroom door,” I say, trying to barricade the door as much as I can
“Wait- what? Oh, my god, Dakota. I’m calling the police!”
“No,” I protest, “focus on driving and do not hang up on me. I think he left the house,” I say, hearing a door close loudly.
I hear her speed faster, eventually screeching to a halt outside the house. “I’m here,” she says, still not hanging up. When I hear the door open, I hang up the phone.
“I’m in here!” I call from the bathroom, crouching in the shower, trying to stay as small as possible. I hear someone's footsteps draw nearer and someone try the door.
“You can unlock the door,” Dawn calls from behind it, still trying the door a little.
I sigh, relieved that she made it. I slowly standing, and walking slowly towards the door before opening it, hesitantly.
“Are-” she starts to say before I hug her tighter than I have in the past. She relaxes, hugging me back, the feeling causing my knees to go weak. She didn’t even seem uncomfortable with my shirtless body. She releases me, searching for something. She eventually finds what she was looking for, handing me one of Jackson’s shirts; mine was covered in blood and torn from the attack. “He doesn’t need this,” she says with a small smirk on her face.
“Thanks,” I say, finally being able to manage words. “For everything.”
**Chapter Break**
That’s when I heard a knock, and an alarmed voice call out through the door.
“Dakota?” My mother asked, worried. “Are you in there?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding before I answered. “Y-yeah, I am,” I say, trying to recover. There was a pit in my stomach, and I couldn’t breathe very well with the tightness I felt in my chest as I relived what happened that night. I didn’t even realize the water on still, until I see the steam around the bathroom. “I-I’m going to take a shower,” I say, still silently crying. “I’m okay. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
She doesn’t answer for a minute, “okay. Just be quick, I need to talk to you.”
My heart drops when I remember what I did. “O-okay.” I recover, stepping into the shower, pulling the curtain across the tub. I knew I was going to get in deep shit for what went down, and I was so not looking forward to that.
Even if that wasn’t the case, she was still going to find out what happened eventually. She was still going to send me to jail. I would still have to tell her everything. And I mean everything. Neither of us were prepared for that.
**Chapter Break**
When I stepped out of the shower, I was able see the world in a better light. My anxiety went down, I was able to stop crying, and I wasn’t even thinking about the nightmare I went through tonight, which was relieving.
I got dressed in the clothes I brought into the bathroom with me, and I was finally ready to face my demons.
There, sitting at the table was my mom, watching the news with shock on her face. “Dakota,” she says, smiling gently at me, “don’t worry. You’re not in trouble.” That regrettably made me release a relieved gasp.
I sit down next to her, still hesitant, afraid that she’s deceiving me, and I am in deep shit like I thought I was earlier.
She gestures to the news. “Katy was attacked tonight, Kota,” she says, concern layering her voice. “Did you know anything about this?”
I look up at her, kinda shocked by her anger in the last sentence. “N-no,” I lie, looking down at my feet. “S-she’s okay, right?“ I ask, more concerned with her life than saving my own ass.
The emotion that ghosted my mother’s face was something I never wanted to see. Pain. “I’m sorry, Dakota. She’s in critical condition,” was all she said before I broke down sobbing.
“M-mom, you’re joking, please tell me she’s okay.” I beg, my eyes burning.
She hugs me, not saying anything for a while. “I wish it wasn’t true, baby,” she finally says in my ear. “I know how close you are.”
She didn’t know about the fight, I thought, remembering how I never told her. “She was like a sister to me. This can’t be happening…” I mutter, pulling away from my mother.
“She’ll be okay, Dakota. The doctors will make sure of it.”
I nod, wanting so badly to take back all that I did. “C-can I have some time alone? I need to process everything on my mind.”
She nods, putting her hand on my shoulder, gently and then leaves the room, going into the kitchen to presumably make dinner.
I sauntered, sadly up to my room and quietly shut the door behind me, sliding to the floor, my arms wrapping around my knees, crying silently for the rest of the night, sleeplessly.
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