AN: Thankyou both for your wonderful reviews and constructive criticism: Cloudcity'sBookworm and Zelda Zonkk! I agree with what you both said and I'm going to really try to develop Dakota's personality and what makes her likeable and unique in this chapter, I hope you like it and I'd be happy to hear what your thoughts are on it :)

Dakota took a deep breathe before walking through the front doors of Westfield High for the first time since the shooting. It was strange, really, how something that she could remember next to nothing about could affect her so much. Then again, she was returning to the place that it had happened. It was perfectly fine to be anxious, right?

Wrong. This was all wrong. Dakota had to be confident and she had to be perfect. She had to be that one girl liked by everyone who did no wrong to anyone. All she wanted was to be liked, and she had been; but not for who she really was. Dakota had been liked by most people because she was confident without being a self- righteous bitch and because she had money, of course. She had the best style, the best clothes, the best everything. She was the best. All morning Dakota had been attempting to convince herself that she still was. It wasn't working- perhaps because it simply wasn't true.

The old Dakota didn't take deep breathes before entering a building and she certainly didn't walk in alone, either. She didn't like to admit it to herself, but she felt lost without Cara by her side. Cara had technically been her sidekick, but she had always viewed them as equal in the friendship and ignored how others didn't. It was a rare occurrence for Dakota to not care what others thought of her, but she couldn't let it get in the way of a perfectly secure friendship that she had enjoyed for years. So she didn't.

For a moment, Dakota's mind wandered back to the mysterious boy from yesterday and how dark and different his eyes had been...

Eyes. She felt so many of them following her as she walked in, and not in the way she was used to. Most of them seemed to be glaring. Why would they glare at her? What could she have done?

Dakota should have tried to get in touch with her old friends, but she had been afraid to, in all honesty. Maybe they would resent her, but the whole school? That wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

Her first class was Physics, and she couldn't concentrate, especially with Sophia Boggs glaring through her. Dakota felt like she could shatter under such an icy, hateful glower. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take it, when the harsh ring to signal the end of class rescued her. It almost sounded heavenly, in this situation. Almost.

Dakota stopped at her locker and closed the door to reveal Sophia standing at her right, inches from her face. "Shit," she muttered, jumping slightly. Then she regained her calm, confident demeanour; or she at least attempted to. "Hi, Sophia. It's great to see you again."

Sophie laughed dryly, sending an involuntary shiver down Dakota's spine.

"I would say the same to you, except I wish you were dead."

Dakota blinked, trying to process what she was hearing. "Sophia, I'm so sorry about your sister, I really am. I know we didn't always seem to get along and-"

"Bullshit. You're a fake, Dakota Myers. My sister knew it from the start, and she wasn't the only one, you know," Sophia spat. "And you got what you deserved, my sister didn't. It should have been you with your brains blown out in that library, if you even have any."

Dakota looked down, trying to remain calm. She couldn't afford to lose it, not here, not now. Sophia was grieving. She was angry. Dakota could deal with her insults right now, she'd have to.

"You can't even fucking look at me," Sophia snorted. "You know what? I wouldn't be surprised if you were involved, if you planned the whole thing, maybe that's why you're so damn guilty looking."

Before she knew what she was doing, Dakota had punched Sophia square in the face. She winced at the crunch she heard, but her rage refused to fade. She wouldn't just stand here and take these accusations. Insults were bearable, but this? She couldn't handle this, she couldn't allow it.

"You're right on one thing, Sophia," Dakota snapped, which she didn't let herself do often. Her perfect, gentle little girl reputation couldn't be tarnished. But she was beginning to realise something: maybe it already was...

"It fucking should have been me. It should have. It shouldn't have been your sister, it shouldn't have been Amir or Chloe and it sure as hell shouldn't have been Cara, or anyone else killed that day. But it was. It was, and you have to try to accept it. I haven't even accepted it yet, and you know why? Because I lost someone too. I lost someone too!" Her voice gradually got louder until it had attracted a crowd of shocked teens. However, it cracked at the end, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her mascara was running, and she didn't look perfect anymore. Because she wasn't perfect. Maybe it was a good thing.

With that, Dakota turned and ran to the bathroom, leaving a stunned and bleeding Sophia behind.

By lunch, the whole school was discussing the incident with Sophia from earlier. It was a good feeling, not really having anything to lose anymore. Let them talk, she thought. I can't be kind, honest, beautiful, flawless... I'm not. I'm more flawed than most of them. The sooner they realise it, the better.

"Dakota, you need to come get some food," Sasha, one of Dakota's former friends appeared at the seat beside her. "And you don't have to sit alone. You got mad, and if I'd have been there, I would have helped you get out of that situation before things got ugly."

Dakota glanced at the girl beside her, she couldn't decide if she was a friend or a stranger right now. "Things are already ugly..." She trailed off, then swallowed back tears and turned her body to face Sasha. "I meant to call, I did. I was just... Scared. I thought you'd all hate me because I got out alive and Cara didn't..."

Sasha said nothing for a moment and held Dakota in a tight hug. "I could never hate you, Dakota. You'll always be my friend. Always. You might have gotten out alive, but you didn't leave the same person as you were when you walked in."

Dakota tensed up at that, and Sasha released her.

"But it doesn't mean you can't become that girl again," Sasha smiled warmly. "Shopping trip this weekend? Florals are so in right now."

She masked her disappointment with a fake smile and a nod. Great. She was already back to fake smiles and shopping trips. That was the thing about Sasha, she could go from plunging into a deep conversation in the middle of the cafeteria to discussing fashion trends in a matter of seconds. She had been understanding at first, but Sasha was wrong. Dakota could never be that girl again. She didn't even know who 'that girl' was anymore.

Thankfully, Dakota was as good at acting as she was faking. These two talents combined make a damn good actress. She was sure these skills would be useful to her, especially in the next few weeks as she endured Sasha's boy band and magazine talk. Nodding and smiling wouldn't cut it, she'd have to be creative with her responses in order to convince Sasha that she was still worthy of her friendship. Wow. This was shaping up to be a damn good week; and it was only Monday.

Dakota decided to dispose of her blades, and it was easier than most people would find it. She realised there was no logic in hurting yourself to be rid of some kind of pain, since it would only lead to more pain in the end. And that was enough for her, so she got rid of them.

With a weak smile, she turned around from the trash can in her bedroom, making a mental note to dispose of the can's contents before her parents did. She stumbled backwards a few steps when she found the mysterious boy from yesterday standing before her, accidentally knocking the trash can on it's side. She cursed and knelt down to put the blades and other trash back into the trash can.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," she muttered, focusing on the trash and not him. Or at least pretending to be.

"I know," he replied, sitting down beside her, legs in a basket, his tone soft but clear. It commanded her attention, despite it's almost warm sound.

"Yeah?" She sounded irritated, looking up at him and finding herself quickly reverting her attention back to the trash. His eyes were so dark, looking into them felt like staring into a black hole. There was something incredibly familiar about them, it was unsettling. And they were dangerous. "How would you know that?"

"Because my scars are the same," he lifted his sleeve and gained her attention again. It wasn't like he ever lost it, she just couldn't handle his intensity right now. They were indeed similar to her own. "I didn't want to die either."

She narrowed her eyes. "Didn't?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You used past tense, therefore implying that you're... Currently dead," she laughed slightly, at how ridiculous her statement sounded. He didn't return the laugh. She looked down again.

"No, I was implying that I used to cut myself too, but I currently don't and haven't for some time now," He replied smoothly, was his tone a tad offensive?

Without warning, he pulled one of her sleeves up and studied her scars briefly, before she pulled away. She shuddered, too, it felt like... Almost like he had done that before in a much darker place. But that couldn't be possible, since she'd only met him yesterday.

He looked apologetic, but he didn't say he was sorry. "Most of them are old, right?"

Dakota nodded slowly, cautiously.

"You stopped and started again. What makes you think this time it'll be different?" It wasn't an insult, just a question.

Dakota chuckled at this whole conversation. "Why are you so damn interested in my scars? And why are you seeing my dad?"

"Why are you so damn interested about me and my psychological issues?" He shot back with a smirk.

Because you keep appearing behind me in my own house and telling me things about myself that I already know. Because you're probably a psychopath who could kill me right here and now if you really wanted to. Do you want a list?

"Because you're an interesting person, and that's a rare thing to find these days."

She hadn't completely thought that through, though it was the truth.

"I'm Tate," he smiled, and she set the trash can back to how it used to be.

"Dakota."

"So, is my dad a better therapist than he is a father?" She asked, sarcasm very much alive her tone, but she was mostly asking out of sheer curiosity.

Tate shrugged. "He listens to some pretty weird shit I say and he tells me I'm not crazy. He can't lie to me, and it's good to know you're not crazy."

Dakota nodded, though she didn't know that feeling. She was convinced that she was crazy, though she didn't strike most people as a... Crazy person. But how do you define the term 'crazy'? You don't, because you can't. Dakota believed that that was because everybody's a little crazy, some just more so than others.

"You ever get that feeling... Where you just know you can't be the perfect person people think you are or want you to be and-"

"You eventually don't even want to be that person anymore?" He cut her off, but she didn't mind. She could get used to this boy finishing her sentences for her. Tate seemed to understand her in a way that no-one else could already, and they'd only met twice.

"Yeah, that's the one," she replied with a smile.

"All the time..."

AN: Okay, so I'm starting to develop Dakota's character a bit better in this chapter, I think. Please let me know what you guys think of this chapter and if you have anything in particular that you really wanna see in the next one, I'd be happy to hear it and write it in for you :)