| THE HUMAN CONDITION |
CHAPTER XII: A NEW BEGINNING

prt. ii / the rise and fall of dakota

"Full circle. A new terror born in
death, a new superstition entering the
unassailable fortress of forever.
I am legend."

I Am Legend, Richard Matheson


A week later…


THE INTEGRATION into Sam Uley's wolf cult was a process I had been waiting for and anticipating but was also one that never physically came. Being made an honorary member of his super-secret circle? Losing my current reality and experiencing everything anew? All an unreality. For fuck's sake, the topic was never even brought up. Would have made a great dinner conversation, but alas—I was left hanging.

I was some sort of emissary, part of a generational curse, tied to my ancestors in one of the most privacy-evading ways possible, yet my sudden powers were of no apparent use. Sam never came to talk to me. I wasn't brought to discuss boundaries with the Quileute council. Jared had disappeared completely. My own father avoided talking to me (about this new development, anyway; he was great for meaningless small talk) like the plague. No, nada, zilch, nothing. I was left to rot in my room, bedridden.

Kallie hadn't even called. No one from school bothered leaving messages. The only person who came by was my Dad, who lived under the same roof, who ignored my questions but gave me company—as though I needed it. And I did need it, if I was honest. There wasn't anyone else I could turn to. Taha Aki, who was my guiding hand in this whole shithole of a bloodsucker-wolfman situation, hadn't appeared since that night. If I was meant to be important, why did I feel so insignificant? All my questions were going unanswered. All the lies felt like hidden truths.

A voice, the equivalent of Paul's, appeared in my head. Sounds like your life is falling apart, Ally.

Paul was right for once. My life did feel like it was falling apart. Hell, maybe it already had, and I was left dizzy in the unraveled bits.

I was told (by Sue, of course; who needed to visit a hospital when a family friend was a fucking nurse?) that my chest would never heal. There would always be scarring, and ugly, horrendous scabbing—and dammit, wouldn't it have been useful if my inherited Gift had included healing powers? But I couldn't bring myself to fucking care. I was left empty of guilt, anger, and grief. All I could really feel was numbness. And was numbness even a feeling to begin with? In theory, all it meant was emptiness. A state of capacity. And fuck if I wasn't lacking in everything but bumps and bruises.

You're rambling. Shut the fuck up. I was rambling. Grasping for thoughts to think, reasons to be. And all the while, my heart was screaming for me to leave and find the answers myself, which really meant seeking out Paul. Who had stopped coming by the moment I'd been transferred from Sue's guest room to my own home. Why had he stopped coming by? Maybe because of Jared. Maybe because of Dad. Maybe because the kiss had meant jack-shit, and he wanted nothing to do with me as a result.

If Paul were here…

Look at you. A smitten, lovesick puppy. How is Paul the dog when here you are, your only goal in life to see his stupid face? I was embarrassing.

Empty of capacity, my ass. The truth was this: I did care. My mind was full of racing thoughts and incomprehensible feelings. I couldn't distinguish between my anger and my guilt, so I decided I felt neither instead. And I was being a nuisance, both to my own health and the sake of everyone around me.

Especially my father, a quiet, brooding son of a bitch, who was presently sitting by my bedside. Man, did he look annoyed.

I knew what this meant; he was half a second from up-and-leaving, so I needed to interrogate him. While I still had a chance.

"Dad, am I annoying you?" I asked him. My train of thought had finally made full circle, and I concluded that my father was the one I needed to pester. For answers to Sam, Jared, and Paul, who were all assholes that kept avoiding me, even after I knew their secrets. How had I gone from never being left alone to always being alone? It was a strange, cruel world we lived in. "And be honest. It's for science."

Dad, who had been reading a Stephen King novel and pretending he was in an isolated bubble, blinked up from his lap. "You should be resting."

"You're gonna play that game?" I harrumphed. I would have crossed my arms, but the gauze was itchy and I hated discomfort. "Okay, I get it. I'm annoying. Thanks for the input. Do I even need input? Nah, your face speaks enough for itself."

Dad drew his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, opened his mouth, then… shut it and continued reading.

I groaned. "You're such a dick."

"What have I told you about language?" He pinpointed me with his uber-scary, death-incarnate gaze, and damn. I was shaking in my rainbow socks.

Both hands went up defensively. "S-Sorry, sir. I-It won't happen again." I was obviously fucking around. But in a room with two occupants—one a stand-up comedian and the other an actual fucking rock—there was no laughter, only awkward silence. And it felt like I was actually suffocating, with that deadpan look on his face and my ever-constant headache returning for a vengeance. Ouch, did my temples throb. What did Dad do? Continue staring, like a fucking prison guard. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was a robot.

Dad's forehead cinched, brows disappearing up into his hairline. But he switched his focus back to the book in front of him. With that change of attention, though, meant he was ignoring me. Purposely ignoring me.

Hm. Theory proven correct. He did find me annoying.

"Ugh, you're so fu—I mean. You suck." I blinked at him. "No one wants to tell me what's going on. I thought Sam was supposed to explain all this shit to me?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Dad's gaze swept upward. His Stephen King novel—Pet Sematary, I realized—snapped shut. "He's busy," Dad said.

"With what? Being a dick?" I narrowed my eyes. This conversation, stemmed by my theory that Dad (and the rest of the world, really) found me annoying, had taken a swift turn. "You all are keeping me in the dark, and it's really fucking pissing me off."

"It's for your own benefit," said Dad. His gaze was hard. And the frustration churning in my stomach was something that had been there since I'd been moved here, when everyone had decided to ignore and snub me. Everyone was tiptoeing around the full truth, and I'd only gotten strands of it. It was more than frustration now—it was resentment.

Because you've got that fucking gene, bloodsuckers are gonna be after you, Paul had said. He was never one for beating around the bush, and I knew the words he'd said weren't lies. Just like they've been after your Dad for the past twenty fucking years.

Ignoring the wary look in my Dad's eye and pretending like he hadn't just basically told me to let it go, I said, "Dakota." And I got the reaction I wanted. Just by hearing that name, Dad stiffened, back snapping straight and eyes enlarging. "First of our kind to be turned. A consultant to the Volturi. And he's been after you for two decades. Sound familiar?"

"You're delving into something dangerous, Alissa," he told me. His tone was dark and low.

A derisive laugh burst out of me, and I waved a dismissive hand. "'You're delving into something dangerous, Alissa,'" I mocked. His words didn't console me, they only enraged me further, and fuck, if I didn't want to hit him. He was my father, but I wanted to hit him. He was keeping me in the dark, and I was tired of this game of Odd Man Out. "Bull-fucking-shit! I was already here to begin with. I mean, Jesus—you're my Dad, and you're an emissary. Jared's my brother, and he's a freakin' shapeshifter. Paul's my—well, he's my I-don't-know, and he's also a part of this wolfman cult! What did you expect? For me to just pretend I'm fully human and go on with life as normal? I can't. Not now. Not after—" My voice broke, and I glanced down at my chest.

Dad stood up from his chair, his book dropping to the ground. His expression was cinched tight, eyes darker than I had ever seen them, and I shrunk back. Scared of what words he had to throw at me—my awkward, quiet father, turned into a living, breathing, seething disciplinarian. "You think Jared's to blame for that?" he snapped at me, pointing downward.

I opened and closed my mouth. All I could force out was a meek, "No."

His mouth stretched into a tight smile, one that didn't match his eyes. "Good, because Jared didn't cause it. You did. Just an hour of knowing what you are, and you twisted it to fit your own sick benefit, hurting your brother," Dad said, the words like spit; he was enunciating each one, and if there was a motive, it was definitely to puncture me. "He's sick with guilt, Alissa. I haven't seen him since your incident. After you fell unconscious, he let out a howl—then he ran into the woods. I have not seen him since."

"Dad, I-I know it wasn't him," I said. I knew I just needed to shut up, knew everything I thought and said was stupid, or at the very least unnecessary, but… I talked anyway. "I know it was me. I'm sorry… I was just so angry."

"You're young, inexperienced, and foolish, Alissa," my father said. "You're rash and just don't think. You're stubborn and selfish, and Christ, you're not wired to hurt or kill anyone. This life was not made for you. It's only going to get you killed."

"Dad, I—" My eyes watered. Everything he said was true, but the way he said it—he thought very little of me. He was disappointed in me. He had probably warded Sam, Paul, and the rest from telling me anything for this exact reason. He didn't want me to be a part of it. "But—Paul—"

"For his own good and yours, stay away from him, Alissa." He turned around, heading for the door. When he glanced back at me, at my crying, pathetic form, he almost seemed sorry. But the anger and frustration overrode any sort of guilt he may have felt. "Get some rest. You'll be going back to school Monday."

The door slammed shut behind him as he left. His book stayed on the floor, abandoned.

He's right, I thought upon his departure. My cheeks were soaked in tears, my jaw so tense I could hear my teeth grinding together, and my chest ached. I wanted to be angry with him for telling me the truth, and for warding me away from some of the only people I had left, but he was right for doing it. I'd get myself hurt, or others. But did this mean I had to go about the exact way I had before Paul's shift?

Paul and I were connected, in a way I couldn't explain. What we had, what I felt for him, it was something worth fighting for. It was something I had dreamed of since our first kiss, and something I had dreaded being nothing but a farce since our second. Maybe loving him was a bad idea—a terrible one, even—and maybe I'd only get hurt in the process. But…

There was nothing I wouldn't do to keep Paul in my life, especially after learning why he hadn't come by. My father could strip me of using my Gift, strip me of being an honorary member of Sam Uley's wolfman cult, strip me of reconciliation with Jared—but Paul?

He'd have to lock me in a room without doors or windows first.


It was Saturday night. And aside from the obvious, it was also a time when I knew Dad would be at the archives and no one would be over to babysit me. It was my first (and only) chance to see and talk with Paul before school. I didn't know if he was home, or even if he was willing to break my father's code of trust. But fuck it, right? You never knew until you tried.

Outside his house, I didn't know which room was his. The only times I'd been here were times with Jared in tow, and we usually sat in the living room and played games, or just talked. I was never allowed up in his room (Jared's rule, of course). Being here, I felt stupid. I had no possible way to see him without waking his father.

An idea popped into my head. Let's just look around, I thought. Then I shoved my freezing hands into my parka's pockets. Beanie stooped low onto my head and a scarf pulled taut around my throat and mouth, I felt more than ready to investigate. The snow fell light around me as I ventured to the back of the house.

He has superhuman hearing, right? Maybe if I just… "Paul!" I whisper-shouted. A prayer went up to God from yours truly that Paul's father wasn't in the windowed room by my head. But when I looked up—

No one was at the window. However, the window itself wasn't completely dark. The lights in the room were dimmed, sure, but they were bright enough that I could tell it was occupied. The fast-paced, howling wind was loud as fuck and made it difficult to hear if anything was playing or being said. I strained my ears.

"All I really want to know,
I already know.
All I really want to say,
I can't define."

"Sublime?" I muttered to myself before I frowned. Paul never really talked about his music taste—except that one time he mentioned being a Blink fan—but knowing he liked rock and alternative music made me wonder if I was standing under his room. And if that were the case, I really hated that he hadn't yet realized I was out here.

Are I not the love of thy life? I wanted to snicker so fucking bad, but I restrained myself. Being a nuisance wasn't on the agenda tonight.

Or maybe it was.

Taking a chance, I picked up a rock out of the snow. I shuffled backward a few steps, avoiding the tree just a few feet behind me, then tossed the rock at the window. My throw was with as much effort as I could muster, but it was still pretty weak. If this wasn't Paul's room, I could just hide and hope his father didn't notice… and pretend this never happened to avoid further embarrassment.

My luck was just right (yet also wrong) because before I knew it, Paul was standing at the window and pulling it up. He leaned his head out, with a torso absolutely fucking bare, and almost immediately he locked his gaze on me. His face was unreadable from this distance, but who cared? All I could focus on was his chest. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

I blushed, thankful for the scarf that hid me. Then I realized I had to drag it down, in order to talk to him. Fuck. "Dad talked to me," I said, after I'd thrown out my pride. My flushed face was fully on display. "I'm gonna hazard a guess and say you haven't been around because of whatever he told you."

Paul crossed his arms and leaned on the window frame. "You'd be correct."

That wasn't the answer I wanted. Maybe the one I'd expected, but not the one I wanted. At least he didn't say it was because you're a terrible kisser. Fuck, that was true.

"You actually want to listen to him?" I puckered out my lips. "I thought you were a bad boy. Since when did you let anyone tell you what to do?"

Paul breathed out a sigh, something I only noticed because of its instant crystallization. "Well, you see, Alissa—I do listen to someone. It's not your Dad, though."

I threw up my hands. "Is it President Bush?" I asked. The question, as stupid as it was funny, was more for humor value than anything else. If this conversation were anything like what you'd get in a 90s rom-com, I knew what his answer would be.

He laughed. "Nah, but good guess," he said. There was a huge grin on his face. "It's you."

Jesus, what a cliché. "If you exclusively listen to me, then why haven't you been by?" I realized how stupid I sounded after the words left my mouth. If Dad truly was trying to keep us apart, he never would have let Paul in the house—and him being around constantly or keeping me under surveillance by babysitters didn't give Paul many chances. Had he been waiting for me to make the first move? "Wait—was this what you wanted all along? Me to come confront you?"

That same lopsided grin appeared on his mouth, stretching from ear to ear. "Guilty as charged."

"Well, I'm here," I said. "Are you gonna come out so we can talk or what?"

There was a brief pause, in which Paul just stared at me. Then he said, "We're talking right here, aren't we?"

"Well yeah, but…" I rolled my eyes. "I have to crane my neck to look at you. That shit hurts."

Paul laughed. "You do that anyway, Lis."

Damn you, I thought, lip curling. "Look, just come out here, alright?"

"Okay, mother," he said, making a face at me. When I said nothing in return, only giving him a look that dared for him to stay and mock me, he stuck his head back inside.

As the tiny window closed and the music turned abruptly off, I became jittery with nerves. I was fucking anxious. What was I going to say? What was Paul going to say in return? Would I be grounded and handcuffed to my bed when I went home? Was this all a mistake? Why the fuck was I here in the first place?

You wanted to get answers, I told myself, pointing out the obvious. And it wasn't a lie; I did want answers. I left because I knew if there was anyone that would be willing to lead me out of the dark, it'd be Paul. We were only now rekindling a relationship that burnt out because of Jared's interference, and with Dad's own attempts to sabotage, it made it so much harder to dig ourselves out. Yet here I was, eager to keep our connection alive.

About two minutes after Paul had disappeared back into his room, I heard snow crunching. I whipped around, heartbeat suddenly erratic, and felt an involuntary smile tweak my lips when I caught the sight of just who it was that had crept up on me.

"Shirtless? And shoeless? Jeez, you're an idiot," I said, eying him up and down. "No shoes, no shirt, no service."

Paul smirked at me, throwing a glance at the very body parts I'd noticed the bareness of. At least he had the decency to wear shorts; I couldn't see a future in which I wouldn't squeal and blush if he showed up naked in front of me. He was warmer than the average human, so I doubted he'd even notice the crisp temperature if he was completely naked. But I still appreciated the coverage, no matter how slight.

"I'm sure you could make some arrangements," said Paul, his manner suggestive. "You wanted to talk. Never said anything about the attire."

He had me there. "Okay, yeah, you're right," I said. I walked closer to him, pulling my scarf up to my chin. It was cold as fuck outside and I wanted nothing more than to be a part of his warmth. "So, I guess you know I'm not allowed to use my powers. Or know anything else about your little wolf-y cult."

Paul nodded. "I agree you shouldn't be a part of the fighting and killing," he told me seriously. When he caught a glimpse of my gaze, saw I was half a moment from objecting and starting an argument, he added, "You aren't a shapeshifter, Alissa. Your Dad isn't either. You weren't made to do any of the shit we do."

"I was never given the opportunity to know more about myself," I said. You're sounding like a petulant child. "If I have powers, I can use them to do what you guys do. Right? If Dad can do it, I can too. I can learn."

His (very pointed) gaze fell on the center of my chest, where my large black parka covered what lay underneath. The ugly, obvious scars I'd avoided looking at since the very incident that gave me them. "Your Dad'll come around and show you how to use your powers," said Paul. "I can't say I agree with that. You were already hurt once from this bullshit, and with bloodsuckers here even after the Cullens left, I don't trust you being a part of it. It'd kill me to see you hurt again, and that's what's going to happen if you put yourself where you don't belong."

"Paul, pain's part of the cycle of life," I said, rolling my eyes at him. "So is learning. So is experience. What's the point in living if I'm just going to be sheltered?"

"Just…" Paul blew out a frustrated breath. "Your Dad's afraid that if you use your powers and become anything like him, Dakota will come to claim you for himself. Make you into one of him."

"What if he already knows that I was given the gene? They're after my father. I'm going to assume they know he had children. I doubt they're stupid enough to think the Gift skipped a generation. What if they know, Paul? Then I've been in danger since the day I was born." I felt like a child trying to play an adult game. Is that how my father saw me? Is that how they all saw me?

Paul's lips thinned, until it looked like he was mouthless. His jaw was twitching. "Dakota is dangerous, Alissa," he said. "He's been after your Dad since he first got the gene. He killed your grandfather because he refused to be turned. If he catches word that you'll be anything like them, any bit as powerful as them, they'll want you."

"Snubbing me out and forcing me to go on with life as usual isn't the solution," I told him. I wanted him to understand—there was nothing we could do to make me perfectly human. Nothing we could do to make me perfectly safe. "I'll always have this gene. We can't get rid of it. It's going to always be there. So I have to be a part of this."

Paul looked utterly frustrated, like he was about to shout curses and punch things and shift, all because he didn't like what he was hearing. "Alissa," he said, after a moment of standing and staring, of combing fidgety fingers through his hair. His voice was hoarse. "You could die. You know that? Dakota's not someone to fuck around with. He's not human. If you don't know what you're doing, you could get yourself killed, okay? You could fucking die."

"Okay," I said softly. "Okay, I know. But I'll learn. He won't kill me. But he will if you keep me in the dark." Taha Aki's ominous, cryptic words rang through my head, and I knew this was the right decision. If I left words unsaid and let my human world cloud the darker, supernatural side, my fate would only end in blood.

Paul walked over to me, and he pulled me into an embrace. His body was warm, and hard, and felt like a fucking safety net, and I would be lying if I said I didn't fall untense from just a few seconds in his arms. His impulsive hug struck me as foreign, since he'd never been the affectionate type, but I knew things were different now. We were different.

It felt like he was trying to convince himself I was real, that what I said was the truth and being brought into his world would keep me safe and protected. I knew he was worried. He was scared that I was talking out of my ass and I'd never be able to handle his world. He was right to worry—right to think I could fail and end up dead either way. But did I want him proven right?

I pushed myself out of the hug, leaned up on my toes, and met Paul halfway in a kiss.

I pulled away after a few seconds. The kiss was a mere peck, but it felt amazing—not quite like fireworks exploding, but somewhere close. More like a toe-curling ecstasy, a high I could never get enough of. At Paul's dazed, confused stare, I only smiled.

"Wanna start a super-secret cult of our own?" I asked him.

His brows flew upward. "What?"

There was something in his eyes, this fond look I couldn't quite decipher, and I knew that even if shit did hit the fan, I'd at least have him to brace the fray with. It made my next words feel all the more right. I snaked my arms around his neck, bringing him closer to my level, damning him for being so freaking tall—and said in his ear, "Let's be lovers."

He jerked back. When he next looked at me, it was with incredulity. "What?" he repeated.

"For an all-mighty wolfman, you sure are slow," I said, with a laugh. "Let's date! Damn my father. Damn Dakota. Damn everybody. No one has to know—or everyone can know—I don't care. I just know I want you."

I was putting my heart on the line here, exposing it for him and him alone to see, and I hoped he wouldn't pull a fast one and leave. Men were such wusses when it came to feelings, and damn if Paul wasn't the epitome of fuck-feelings-let's-just-punch-shit male. I didn't—

Paul swooped me up in his arms, twirling me, before sitting me down and smashing his lips back against mine. And fuck, I'd never experienced anything like it. Like him. His eyes fluttered shut, and mine quickly followed. His hands slithered from my waist to my face, cupping my jaw, and my own arms remained around his neck. I was risen up on my tiptoes, my body curving perfectly against his, and all I could taste was him, all I could feel was him, all I could breathe was him. He tasted like mint, he felt like a wall, and his scent was like that of musk.

And the kiss itself was out-of-this-world. Words couldn't express just how weird and lovely and exciting, all at once, it felt.

Paul's lips unattached from mine. The movement was slow, like he hadn't wanted to leave at all. When I opened my eyes, with great reluctance, it was to meet his. The fond look had disappeared, and in its place was something deeper. Darker. And the way he continued to hold my face was something that made me want more.

There was a big smirk on Paul's face, his eyes brighter than stars. "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, Alissa Cameron?" he asked teasingly.

"Why yes, Paul Lahote. Do you accept?" I smiled.

He gave me a look, like that kiss should have spoken for itself. I just laughed and leaned up for another one.

Three, four, five. That's five. Five kisses. And he initiated one himself. At least they proved that whatever this was, even if temporary, it was real. And it was tangible. I could touch it, feel it, taste it.

It wasn't just a figment of my imagination. And for once, I didn't feel like the direction I was heading was a bad one.


Paul had walked me home. Said something about wanting me to be safe, scolded me for having come to his house alone and through the woods, and helped jump me to my bedroom. It was one hell of an experience, I'd say that much, especially when he nearly missed the window pane. Good thing I left my window unlocked.

We'd exchanged goodbyes, where he'd given me my sixth kiss, and I'd gotten ready for bed. I changed out my gauze with a new set, I brushed out my hair and pulled it up, I washed my face and took sweet time brushing my teeth. When I'd put on an old shirt and shorts and finally laid down in bed, I felt content.

Around 3 in the morning, I woke to a strange creaking.

What the fuck? I thought and rose up in my bed. The covers fell down from my chest. I looked around. There was nothing here, there, anywhere—and the door was shut tight. The television was turned off. The window was closed. The creaking couldn't be from within my room—

I heard it again. And it was close. It had to be from within this room.

I didn't dare call out or move. That's what the idiot girls in horror movies did, right? Yeah, right before they got themselves killed. I didn't want the same fate.

Even though you're in the same room with it, said an eerie voice in my head, the very one that always liked to spook and fuck around with me. You're fucked either way.

"Who's there?" I said shakily, deciding the voice was right. I was fucked either way.

Nothing moved, nothing said anything. I was basically caught in suspense, as per usual in horror movies. But then, a shadow moved from the wall—one in the shape of a man—and before I could scream, there was something clasping around my lower skull. Something holding my jaw captive. And unlike Paul's gentle caress, this one aimed to hurt.

Fuck! I shouted in my head, tears stinging my eyes. And though I moved my jaw, I couldn't find an out—the hand was much too strong. I was desperate to bite their hand and remove myself from this situation. But how could I? I was weak, foolish, and definitely not Final Girl material. Maybe the Final Girl's companion, but I'd still die in the end.

"Ah, ah, ah," the shadow above me said, in a voice a touch too patronizing for my liking. His voice was deep and baritone. "You're not getting away that easily, Alissa. Not when we have much to discuss."

I blinked away the tears and stared up at him. I couldn't speak, so all I did was stare.

He laughed. "You think I'm another of your guardians testing you? Sorry, sweetheart. If I was, you wouldn't be able to feel me. I wouldn't be able to taste your fear."

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!

His grasp increased around my jaw, so tight I felt like it might break. He leaned closer, and what most alarmed me was the lack of scent. Like he was an actual shadow. "You will make for a powerful addition to us," he purred.

My eyes widened. And my struggle increased, so terrified I felt like I couldn't breathe. Is this who I think it is?

His hand reached up "You'll realize in due time that fighting is pointless. We will always find you."

A shard of moonlight came streaking through the window, and suddenly, I saw him. I saw the man—no, vampire—pinning me to my own bed.

"Hello Alissa," Dakota said. He had eyes red as a viper's and lips as pale as liquid nitrogen. His hair was the very color of the night sky. And his skin was tan like mine, yet ashen to a deathly degree. The way he stood over me, he wasn't new to hunting. He was a professional. And here, alone in his grip, closed in by four walls, I was what he had his sights on. I was his prey.

This isn't real, I told myself. It couldn't be. If it was, my father would have run in here by now. Sam and Paul and Jared would have scented him. Right? They knew I was defenseless. And they knew what vampires smelled like. I hope.

The pressure on my jaw was excruciating, and all I could wonder was why the hell so many bad things were happening to me of all people. "We'll talk later," said Dakota, with a smile that sent chills down my spine. He said we had much to discuss. Why leaving so soon? "I'm sure you'll feel a little more accommodating then."

My jaw was released, and the shadow above me disappeared. Not before a sharp sensation cut through my defenses and a bright white enveloped everything.

I shot up in my bed. My entire body ached like a fucking train had hit me and sweat covered me from head to toe.

After moments spent blinking around, of trying to calm my heart, of panicking and hoping I was alone for good this time, I realized something. Something terrible.

That was Dakota… this wasn't a nightmare… I chewed on my lip. And I felt ridiculous, felt so fucking stupid… and knew this game was one that I wouldn't win. Not when I was up against the game-maker.

That's why he's so dangerous. That's why they're so afraid of him.

Dakota could visit and manipulate dreams.


A/N: Long time no fucking see, guys. Bet you thought I'd gone off the grid. Can't say I didn't. Shit's been fucking me up lately. During July I had work, and at work I was constantly being harassed and antagonized by this one chick who's hated me since grade school. I was really depressed, from that and all the shit I had to deal with from my parents. August was the same way. Going back to college made things a little better. I go to the same college as the girl who loves to harass me, but good thing is the campus is big and I hardly see her! When I do, she gives me death glares. Oh fucking well lmao.

College has been great to me and I feel much better. I'm eating better, I'm able to socialize, my grades are good—the only thing sucking major ass is my sleep schedule. I never sleep. But at least there's coffee, right?

I haven't been very motivated to write for this story. I feel like it's terrible and lacks direction. I absolutely abhor it, and the only thing that wills me to finish it is the people who actually do enjoy it, as far and in between as they are. My writing is shit and every time I write on this story, I get angry and want to delete it because it sucks. If this chapter is garbage, that's why. Also because it's a bit of a filler. Fillers are never very satisfying, are they? As an avid reader, I apologize for giving you this boring piece of shit. Sure, yeah, Dakota shows up in it, but let's be real—that was completely unoriginal. Dakota is basically Freddy Kreuger. BUT I promise, it will get better.

Maybe not. I almost deleted this piece of shit over the course of the last three or so months I've spent not updating. I will probably wind up doing so anyway. THIS STORY SUCKS TIS TRUE, AT LEAST I'M NOT A BITCH ASS LIAR AND WILL AGREE WITH U

Let me stop being self-degrading for one moment to say please, please, please—REVIEW! I read each and every single one of them. Give your honest opinion. Tell me what you'd like to see plot-wise. I take all comments into consideration. Thank you.