No reviews yet but I'm updating anyway aha. Please review? It would mean a lot! Flashbacks will be written in bold text to avoid confusion, I'll try and include one every two chapters at least? Idk how many to type up but I'll write it in if I think of anything. Enjoy this chapter and even just leave me a quick line as a review? Thankyou! x

WARNING: If you self harm then one part of this chapter could be a trigger for you, so please be careful. I don't personally and have never self harmed, so I probably won't include it in chapters that often but this time, for the sake of the story, I am. I can't understand something I've never experienced myself but I tried my best to interpret how it feels briefly here, although I may go into more detail in the next few chapters. I don't know how much self harm I'll write about since I don't want to mis-interpret it although I understand it as well as I could for someone who has never done it. I don't mean to basically just make my OC Violet, but I need a few more chapters to fully develop Dakota, so please be patient about that. Thankyou so much for reading, and again, please review! Also, I did use a scene from the show here, I'll try not do that again but some lines/scenes are too good and fit too well not to use aha. Sorry for the long AN! This chapter is kinda short, the next one will be way longer though! X

Dakota sighed as she unplugged her earphones and decided to contribute to her parents' conversation as they approached the house they'd be looking at. "So, we're definitely doing this?"

"Nothing's definite yet, honey," Vivien replied softly before Ben could say a word. Because if it wasn't definite, then his chances of keeping his family would start to look a whole lot bleaker. She noticed that he frowned slightly at Vivien's answer, was that hurt in his eyes? After what he'd done to them, Dakota saw him as lucky to even be here with them.

She rolled her eyes. "See, mom, that's the problem. Nothing is ever definite with this family, and I hate it."

Vivien sighed. "My mother is very sick, Kota, your grandma doesn't have long left and she needs us-"

"I know," Dakota cut her off. "What I meant is: are you and dad gonna stay together after Grandma dies? Who am I gonna be staying with? Are you going to end up pregnant by the end of this year or is it going to be another one of dad's slutty students?"

"Dakota!" Vivien snapped, a stern expression on her face.

Ben tried to focus on the road, but felt like it was his responsibility to fix this one. "We both love you very, very much, Kota. But we have to be here for your mom right now, and for Grandma. I know this must be difficult for you, and I understand that, we're going to help you through it-"

Dakota huffed and shoved her earphones back in carelessly, drowning them out. She didn't want to hear it anymore, her dad's patronising shrink talk or her mom's excuses. It was all bullshit, as far as she was concerned. Taking her back to the place she was shot and almost killed, pretending it was completely for Grandma when really it was just the perfect opportunity for her dad to win her mom back, or at least attempt to. All bullshit.

Soon enough, they reached the house. Dakota thought about making an Adams family sarcastic remark, but suppressed the urge. Deep down, she wanted to be in a happy family again. She wanted to be a happy girl again. She had been getting there in New York, but then her dad had to have sex with some student of his after her mom had a pretty brutal miscarriage. All of this had happened after the shooting.

The shooting. She had went into shock after it, almost died, apparently. She didn't remember any of it, really. She had agreed to see a big shot therapist, and take pills every night to keep the memories locked away where her mind couldn't experience them. It was all for her parents, at first, and then for herself when she realised that maybe she didn't want to remember what had happened to her and 15 other kids. Including her best friend, Cara. She was still in denial at the fact that Cara was dead, but it wasn't her fault. Sometimes the pills confused her, sometimes her mind confused her. Sometimes everything confused her. The world has a way of doing that to you, especially after you're almost shot dead in your own high school.

Sometimes memories returned to her and haunted Dakota in her dreams, but she could never remember them when she woke up, and sometimes, considered refusing to take the pills anymore. But the truth was, she was terrified by what caused her to wake up in a cold sweat, screaming at night, and deep down, she didn't really want to know. Besides, now didn't seem like the best time for that, moving back to the general area that it happened in. The neighbourhood that Westfield High was in.

In fact, she'd have to go back there in a few days to finish up on some exams before graduating. She pushed the thought of that away, and joined her parents and their yapping dog, Harley inside, following Marcy the realtor. Marcy rambled on about the history of the house with a fake smile plastered to her face the whole time, and Dakota tuned out, studying the place carefully. The decor was... Unusual, but pretty damn beautiful in it's own way, she decided.

Harley began yapping violently and before even being asked, Dakota followed the sound of her dog to the basement door, intrigued. "The basement, huh?" She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as the door creaked open mysteriously.

There was a heavy, ominous feeling in the air of the dark room as she carefully stepped down the staircase, stopped at the last step when her mom called her and turned on her heel with a huff of disappointment. She had kinda wanted to explore this place a little more, and assumed they were going to go home to their current house and leave this wonderful, mysterious place forever. Something was holding her in here, and she hated the idea of leaving the house, for some strange reason that she couldn't comprehend or describe.

"Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I must inform you of the history of this house," Marcy began, almost sounded regretful, like she wished she didn't have to tell them.

"Don't tell me someone died in here," Vivien laughed slightly, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time. Her expression fell flat at Marcy's answer.

"Yes, actually," Marcy replied, her lips pursed in a firm line. She knew she'd lost the sale when Ben's expression mirrored his wife's.

Dakota strolled in, upon hearing this. "Where'd it happen?" She asked nonchalantly.

"The basement," Marcy answered.

"We'll take it."

one week later...

Dakota wasn't exactly thrilled about her life being completely uprooted yet again, in less than a year, but there were worse places to be living.

She lay in her bed, listening to her music loud until her dad told her he had a patient coming and asked her to turn it down, so reluctantly, she did. The song was "Don't Panic" by Coldplay, and it calmed her. She was meant to be studying, but Dakota felt distracted. When she was unpacking, she'd found an old picture of her and her friends. They'd lost contact when she left, a few weeks after the shooting. Would they still be here? Would they still want to talk to her after she survived and Cara didn't?

She never understood why people cut themselves. Not until she started. She just wanted to feel something, something real. And it made the pain go away for a while. She didn't do it often, but the scars added up. She shouldn't even be alive, yet she was, and she was finding herself wishing she wasn't more and more often these days. Seeing that picture sent her to the bathroom, cutting herself again for the first time since the shooting took place.

The first cut stung, but she started to feel a temporary calmness wash over her. She started to feel better by the third time, until a voice she could swear she'd heard before caught her completely off guard.

"You're doing it wrong."

Her eyes flitted up to the mirror, and she gasped slightly, startled, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

"If you're trying to kill yourself, you cut vertically. They can't stitch that up."

"H-how'd you get in here?" Dakota spun to face the familiar, mysterious boy.

"If you're trying to kill yourself," he paused, staring at her intently. "You might also try locking the door."

He left her speechless. She frowned at how soothing his voice was, despite the fact that he was instructing her on how to kill herself.

She stood frozen for a few seconds, then opened the door and scanned the hallway for him. Nothing. He had just disappeared... Like a ghost.