AN: Okay, I need you guys to let me know if the rubber suit is something you want included in this somehow? I don't really mind either way, he wouldn't really be doing anything crazy because I think the shooting is really enough drama but yeah, let me know and I'll try and write it in if you want me to.

I based this chapter partially on a song that I've always loved and one that I feel describes their relationship very well.

Sorry for any spelling mistakes, there shouldn't be any unless autocorrect has messed stuff up bc I usually type this story and all of the others up on my phone.

"Your hands can heal, your hands can bruise. I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you."

Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars

Dakota finally let herself break, sinking down to the floor in tears. Her window wasn't open, so how the hell had he gotten out so quickly? It didn't really matter, though, not anymore. How could she be with him, after that? Even if she forgave him, she would never be able to feel safe around Tate again. Would she?

She rubbed her still burning throat and winced. If anyone else had done that to her, it would still have been horrible... But Tate? Tate was the one who was meant to protect her from others. And although he had always been extremely volatile, she never thought he would hurt her like that, or at all.

His words echoed in her head over and over, and she buried her face in her knees like it could drown him out. "I want you to remember that I will fix you every time you break, Dakota, and I would never let anyone or anything hurt you. I love you."

And then she heard him. She heard him actually say it. "I love you."

Dakota felt his arm around her shoulder for a second, too, and she tried to scoot away from him, only to find that when she looked up he wasn't there.

She shuddered and wondered if he had been making her go crazy or if she always had been.

Chad lingered at the door with a frown. He was beginning to see how insensitive he had become, how numb. How numb to anything that didn't directly involve Patrick. He sighed, wishing he had helped Pat attempt to stop Tate before the damage was done. But it was too late for that, now. He stared at Tate who still hadn't noticed him, too distracted by Dakota. He left to go and convince Pat that he could still love, that his words were wrong. He'd tell him he was sorry like he always did, but it wouldn't matter. Patrick simply did not love him anymore, if he ever really had.

Moira wasn't meant to even be in the house, so no matter how much she wanted to try and comfort Dakota, she knew it would only lead to more confusion for the girl. "Didn't she tell you to go away?" She asked, a stern expression on her worn face.

Tate shot her an irritated look and turned his attention back to Dakota. "Stay out of it, you don't know about us, you don't know what it's like to love someone like I love Dakota."

"You're destroying her. You know you're too far gone, yet you drag this girl down with you. If you loved her so much, you would never have done that. I'm afraid you've gone absolutely insane, Tate; if that's what your idea of love is."

He ignored her.

"I know who did it."

Tate snapped his gaze back to Moira.

"Your mother."

Dakota's mom and dad were out handling funeral arrangements, and they wouldn't be back for at least another hour, maybe longer.

Eventually, she went downstairs to the kitchen to get a drink.

She poured orange juice into a glass, but then she heard footsteps coming from her backyard. She instantly grabbed a knife, but when she turned around clutching it, she saw non other than Constance.

"That's a big knife for a little girl."

Dakota sighed in relief and set it down on the counter. "My mom isn't in, I'll make sure I let her know you stopped by."

"Oh, I wasn't looking for your mom," Constance smiled, but it wasn't warm and it wasn't entirely friendly.

Dakota cleared her throat nervously. "You wanted to see me?"

Constance nodded and took a step towards her, then another until she stood inches away from her.

Dakota felt the urge to run, but her back was against the worktop and there was really nowhere to go. Besides, Constance could surely mean her no harm. But there was something so off putting and intimidating about this woman...

Constance noticed her try and flinch away when she brought her hand to the now dark bruise on her throat. "My, who did that to you?"

Dakota felt herself squirm under Constance's scrutinising stare and touch. "I... I don't think it's really any of your business," she muttered shakily.

Tate was watching the whole thing, fighting the urge to seriously hurt Constance. He hated how she was making Dakota not just uncomfortable, but frightened; though he had done worse to her in the past hour.

"Oh," Constance chuckled, dropping her hand. She turned to meander around the kitchen. "But I wonder... Is it your father's? What about your mother? Under all that stress in this time of great sorrow. It would be irresponsible of me to keep the fact that your boyfriend is abusing you to myself, surely."

Something inside of Dakota snapped, and she wanted to react by yelling and cursing at Constance, but then she realised that she could beat her at her own game.

"Firstly, Tate isn't abusing me, and secondly, he is no longer my boyfriend. I can handle myself just fine. I appreciate your... Concern, but I won't be blackmailed. I don't care if my parents find out, because I could always deny that Tate did it and tell them that it was... I don't know, you?"

Tate flinched when she stated what he already knew. He wasn't her boyfriend anymore.

Constance just laughed. "Honey, you're a mess. They'd never believe shit like that, and we both know it. Though I do like something about you. In fact, I'd say I admire you."

She had never planned to actually tell her parents anything, since it was her own son, though Dakota had no clue about that. She also didn't plan on giving away much on the shooting. She was just hinting that she would because she knew that Tate was present. She couldn't see him, of course, but Constance could tell that he would follow Dakota around until she wanted him again. If she ever did.

"I'm flattered," Dakota muttered, dry sarcasm filling her tone. Constance was beginning to seem less threatening, somehow.

"You're a manipulative little bitch, a lot like me when I was younger," Constance went on, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She offered Dakota one, who took it without hesitation. "You said you didn't smoke anymore."

"Things are getting bad again," Dakota said dejectedly, leaning forward with the cigarette in her mouth while Constance lit it. "Everything good in my life is going to shit."

Constance smiled. "Welcome to my world."

Tate didn't like this at all. He didn't like anything about it. Dakota identifying with Constance, smoking her cigarettes. It made him sick.

"So, you wanted to see me about something?" Dakota asked, taking a drag. She resisted the urge to cough, since she hadn't smoked in months, nor did she really want to; but it put her at ease somehow.

"...It can wait," Constance sighed. "There's only so much pain someone can take in their life, you've already had your fair share, I suppose. Much like me."

"It was something bad, wasn't it?" Dakota asked, dreading her answer.

"Yes."

"I want to know before it creeps up on me."

"What if I told you that you already knew?" Constance asked, taking a long drag.

Dakota just stared at her.

"You don't want to remember this one, not today," the older woman turned to leave. "Trust me."

When her parents returned home, just over an hour later. They didn't question why Dakota was wearing a scarf, assuming that scarves had recently come back in style, since she always knew what was in before they did.

Her mom had perked up since her yoga, and it made Dakota so proud of her to see her trying to smile again after her Grandma dying.

Her Grandma... Dakota hasn't even begun to process what had happened, she had to grieve somehow. But honestly, she just wanted to break away from all the sorrow and death in her life. It just seemed to follow her everywhere, like an ominous dark cloud hanging over her head. It had gotten to the point where it never seemed to stop pouring down on her.

Dinner was uneventful, just smalltalk over Chinese takeout after they informed Dakota that the funeral would take place next Monday.

She went upstairs and felt her chest tighten when she saw what was written on her board. "I'm sorry."

Dakota felt tears welling up in her eyes. First of all, he had been in her bedroom at some point in the last hour and a half, while she was in the house. Secondly, he thought a message on a blackboard would fix what he had done to her. She loved him. But she couldn't just forgive him, she knew she couldn't do it.

She took a deep breathe and grabbed the cloth that she used to clean off her blackboard. Dakota started at "TAINT", which had already faded for the most part, and then at "I'm sorry." With tears clouding her vision, she violently scrubbed them off of the blackboard, like she could be rid of him and all the hurt he had caused her, and all the love she felt for Tate. But she couldn't get rid of him. It felt like he had become part of her in the month they'd known each other.

Being with Tate felt like drinking this rare poison that tasted so sweet, but burned away a part of her every time she had it. It was addictive, though, and she couldn't live without it. She had never been into drugs. Not until he walked into her life, and the withdrawal process wasn't going so damn well.

That night, Dakota had a strange nightmare. They were all strange, but this one was just... Different.

She opened her eyes and saw a SWAT team burst into the room.

She also saw Tate laying beside her on her bed. She turned to the SWAT team and then back to him, but he was standing up. He began to slowly raise his hands, with this look on his face like he had seen this coming. He knew it was going to happen, and he didn't intend on making it out alive. But why? Why were they in her house with their guns and bulletproof vests?

She stared up at Tate with tears streaming down her face. "No! Tate, don't leave me, please don't leave me!" She scrambled out of her bed and stood at his side, tugging on his arm, but he wouldn't look at her. "Tate!"

And then he glanced at a dark, crimson stain soaking through her shirt.

"What happened to me?" She choked out through uncontrollable sobs.

He looked down at her with an empty look in his eyes taking her hand tightly in his. His expression was numb, but not exactly vacant. He was thinking about too much and nothing at all.

They were both aware of the red lights dancing on their chests.

"Tate, I'm scared..." She said in a small voice, trembling.

"I'm here," he smiled ruefully down at her for a second. "It won't hurt, I promise. Don't be scared."

She swallowed, his words sending shivers down her spine.

Tate raised his other hand slowly, and held his index finger beside, but not quite against his head. And then he brought his thumb down and pulled the trigger.

"Pow."

Dakota looked up at him in horror. Suddenly, he turned and reached under her pillow for a gun, pulling her with him. She fell into him as the bullets crashed into his chest, the impact making his body shake violently. She screamed loud, but she could barely hear it over the gunshots. They just wouldn't stop.

As he fell, she let herself fall with him. Dakota didn't let go of his hand when the life left it, crying and screaming hysterically.

"Don't go," she begged, sobbing against his bleeding chest. "Don't you leave me here, Tate, don't you leave me!"

"I'm... Sorry," he took his last breathe, and she felt a part of her die inside along with Tate when she felt his heart stop beating.

The SWAT team had vanished into the air when she brought herself to look up at them. But something had been written on her board.

'Don't be sad, we can finally be together for always."

And then she looked down at the several holes in her own chest. She didn't feel it. Dakota had been oblivious to herself dying with him. The thing was, she didn't feel sad anymore. She didn't feel anything.

Dakota jerked awake, insanely looking down at chest. No blood. But when she looked at her board, even in the darkness and saw it:

"Don't be scared."

Dakota found herself constantly thinking about Tate. It didn't come in waves, it was constant. He was always there, filling her mind.

Since that nightmare, she had found herself terrified of losing him. He was just too special to her. But a relationship based on lies could never work, especially after him strangling her.

Every time she found herself aching at the thought of sending him away the way she had, of being without him, she remembered that numb yet intense look on his face when he was slowly but surely killing her. She tried to block out how horrified he had looked when he seemed to snap out of whatever was going on inside his head. But maybe that was all an act, she couldn't decide.

If Tate died in front of her right now as he had in her dream, would she hold his hand and take her own last breathe as he took his? Yes. Did she feel alone without him no matter how many people were around her? God, yes.

But no matter what, she couldn't be with him. He had fucked it up, not her. She had to remind herself of that over and over. Tate had vandalised a picture of her dead friend. How could she possibly be with someone like him, no matter how much she wanted to?

All the burning questions bounced around her head, and it didn't matter who was talking to her, she just couldn't concentrate on a word they said. It had been a couple days since she'd last seen his face. She had concealed the bruises that just didn't seem to go away with makeup, of course. Nobody could know.

Constance returned to the house two days after her plan had been initiated. "Tate?"

Tate felt the urge to break his mother in half, if you could consider her to be one. But of course, he suppressed that urge; because Addie needed her and the only thing worse than having to cope with her little visits when she was on a guilt-trip would be to be stuck with the woman forever.

"Why?" He appeared inches from her, behind her.

She gasped and turned to face him. "Tate, you have to stop doing that-"

"Why would you fuck this one up for me?" He asked, louder this time.

"I do recall that I was not the one depriving that girl of oxygen with my hands around her throat," Constance replied dryly.

"If you don't stop destroying my life then you'll find yourself being deprived of oxygen," Tate growled, irritated.

Constance slapped him across the face, and he didn't retaliate. He just glared at her with a tiny look of fear in his dark eyes, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second to be soon replaced by anger.

"I never meant to hurt her..." He trailed off, beginning to sound vulnerable, like a child who had taken a verbal dispute into something physical with a kid he liked at preschool. "Did I?"

Constance sighed. "I don't believe you did, Tate, but I also don't believe that you wouldn't take it a step further if that darkness took over again."

"But I don't want to be like this," he murmured tearfully. "I don't want her to be scared of me, I want her to feel safe with me. She should be able to feel that way. I just want to protect her from all of it, from the blood and the violence and the darkness..."

Constance felt tears gathering in her own eyes. "Tate... You don't seem to comprehend that you are this darkness, this violence. You're the very thing you want to protect her from."

"No!"

"Yes!" Constance exclaimed. "How could you be so blind, Tate? I didn't raise you to be blind."

"You didn't raise me at all," Tate snapped, carelessly wiping his tears away. "She can still forgive me. She can still love me, and I'll never hurt her again."

"Oh, Tate, you poor soul," Constance sighed. "Although, she did hit you first, several times, I suppose. I have to say I'm finding myself beginning to like this girl, she's a lot like me-"

"Dakota is nothing like you," Tate spat, disgusted. "I heard your little conversation. Don't offer her cigarettes again, and don't blackmail her, either. You have to fix this for me, or I swear, you're going to wish you never said a word to her."

With that, he disappeared.

Dakota didn't have any more nightmares, that week. But as she closed her eyes every night, all she could see was Tate's hand imitating a gun, and him pulling the trigger at his head.

She had kept her windows locked and checked her bathroom, wardrobe and under her bed for any sign of him. Nothing. Had he given up on her now?

She realised that as she checked, she was actually wishing she'd find him there. She wanted to know that he was okay, because since her nightmare; she had been terrified that something had happened to Tate.

"So, I'm coming over to your house after school today?" Sasha asked excitedly.

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty creepy sometimes, so you've been warned."

"I like creepy," Sasha smiled, but she had know idea what she was saying.

Cameron approached her that day as she was waiting for Sasha, standing beside her locker. "Dakota, are you okay?"

She faked a smile. "Yeah, 'course I am. Why?"

Cameron frowned. "That doesn't work on me."

"Cameron, I'm fine," she said dismissively, avoiding eye contact. "Really."

"Just... You seem different. Is it your Grandma? Is it-"

"It's nothing, Cameron," Dakota said quickly. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because I think you're beautiful," he replied.

"I'm flattered, but all that glitters isn't always gold," she sighed.

"No, not just you. You're beautiful in the way that you are, you know? Your quirks and mannerisms, your smile, even when it's fake. You are beautiful."

Dakota laughed nervously and found herself beginning to blush. "My quirks?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "Like when you-"

Before he could continue, Sasha appeared. "Hey, Dakota, I think- Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No," Dakota smiled flirtatiously at Cameron. "No, you're not."

"Okay... So, are we going now?" Sasha asked, smirking.

"Goodbye, Cameron," Dakota said, turning to walk away.

"Goodbye, Dakota."

Tate stood in Dakota's doorway, he just couldn't help listening to their conversations about Cameron and besides, he had nothing better to do.

"What'd he tell you?"

Dakota shrugged. "Just that he thought I was beautiful, I don't know."

Tate rolled his eyes, but also felt a pang of jealousy. If a guy changed the word "hot" to "beautiful" it seemed to make the girl practically fall in love with him. Was that what she was doing? Was she falling in love with him?

The next day, Dakota walked past her dad's office to hear a voice that was all too familiar.

"Have you ever hurt someone you love?"

"...Yes, but this isn't about me, Tate. Have you?" Her dad answered in his smooth, serious therapist voice.

"Yeah, and I don't think she's going to forgive me. But I can't be without her, you know?"

Her dad didn't reply, waiting for Tate to continue.

"This world is a filthy place. It's a filthy goddamn horror show. And all I want to do is protect her from it," he went on, speaking with conviction. "I just wish she'd let me hold her again."

"You aren't referring to my daughter, are you?" Her dad asked carefully.

Dakota noticed that the door was open a crack and peered inside.

Tate's gaze moved from her dad to her instantly. "Am I?"

She felt her heart beating so fast that she wondered if he could hear it.

"This session is over, Tate," her dad said firmly, completely oblivious. He was probably jotting something down.

"Bullshit," Tate glanced back at Dakota's dad. "I don't accept that."

"And I don't accept that you're discussing your feelings about my daughter with me right now, in my house, in the house that she lives in, Tate," Her dad stood up, and Dakota knew there was no way she could get away without being seen or heard. "Please leave."

She froze when Tate rose, a scowl upon his face. He swung the door open and she had to jump backwards to avoid being hit by it.

They locked eyes for a moment, and he opened his mouth to say something; but she turned and ran upstairs as fast as her feet would carry her- she didn't look back.

"So, there's a dance this weekend, uh... It's tomorrow, actually," Cameron cleared his throat nervously, approaching Dakota on Thursday at school. "And I wondered if you wanted to go with me?"

She couldn't help but smile at how cute it was that he was feeling nervous about asking her to a dance. "I'd love to."

"Great, I'll pick you up at 8?"

She nodded and then it occurred to her that she truly was trying to leave Tate behind her, to move on. But he was always in her head, and nothing would change that. Not Cameron, not a dance. But there was always the possibility that someone would smuggle alcohol in, and she could get drunk on poison instead of Tate Langdon.

Dakota decided on a long deep red dress with a heart-shaped neckline and waterfall skirt that hugged any curves she had. Really, she prided herself on her figure which she managed to maintain pretty well without much effort, somehow. Her makeup was natural but flawless, and she'd worked hard on it. Her hair fell in soft waves. The sling back nude heels completed the look nicely.

Tate couldn't bring himself to look away as she walked down the stairs. She looked like an old Hollywood starlet. God, she was beautiful. And someone else would be holding her forever cold hands tonight. Cameron, to be precise.

Dakota hugged her mom when she saw tears of joy forming in her eyes.

"Look at my special girl tonight," her dad smiled lovingly, and she hugged him too.

"God, Ben, don't ruin her hair," her mom laughed. "I worked pretty damn hard on it."

"Thanks, mom, I love it."

Honestly, it felt amazing for Dakota to see her parents so happy, so proud. She wished she could make them feel like this everyday. She knew they loved her, but when it was special like this it made her feel like everything was worth it. All the pain, the therapy, the move... All of it.

They took pictures of her from pretty much any and all angles, which took at least ten minutes, but she didn't mind. A warm feeling surged through her veins, she could feel the love radiating around the room. But she also felt something else... Someone's emotions were dampening the atmosphere, and it certainly wasn't her own.

Dakota tried to ignoring the unsettling feeling conjuring up inside of her. She would enjoy tonight, she really would. Nothing was going to stop her, and if anything did, it would definitely not be a little hunch like this. She shook it off, but it seemed to cling to her like a horrible odour. It just wouldn't go.

When Cameron showed up at 8 on the dot, which Tate noticed and felt the urge to laugh at, though he realised that any boy would be mad to turn up late to a date with Dakota. Or a dance. Whatever it was, she was going with him.

His heart sunk when he watched Cameron's arm drape across her shoulder. This wasn't how it was meant to be. He didn't love her the way Tate did, unconditionally, irrevocably. He didn't love her at all, he loved the idea of her. Dakota was somehow blind to this fact, or she didn't care.

"Take good care of her tonight, alright?" Dakota's dad asked.

"Of course, Mr. Myers."

"Yeah, I bet he will," Chad snorted and appeared by Tate's side.

"Shut up," Tate muttered, his eyes still glued to Dakota as she left.

"How's it feel, watching her walk away with him?"

"I would follow Dakota anywhere, if I could. She has to know that..." Tate looked down, talking mostly to himself and not to Chad.

"Well, if she ever forgives you, I'll give you a tip: try not to choke her again, it can help maintain an already precarious relationship," Chad smirked, disappearing. Tate was left standing alone, as always.

Dakota walked into the dance with Cameron, and watched everyone stare in awe at her. She couldn't help but enjoy it, because for the first time since she'd gotten home, they didn't seem to despise her for showing her face again.

There wasn't much point in conversing with him, so the danced and drunk the alcohol infused "fruit punch" for at least an hour straight. Eventually, she felt too tipsy to stay out, and since Sasha wasn't around to get her going, the party kinda sucked. She asked him to drive her home at ten and he agreed.

Most of their conversations were pretty intellectual and brief, in school, so the light chatter they made in the car filled the air with awkwardness. Thankfully, it only took just under ten minutes to drive to her house from the school, and he opened the car door and gently pulled her out.

It had begun to rain pretty heavily during the ride home, so Dakota was eager to get back inside.

Tate stood just feet before them, waiting for the inevitable to happen. He had no idea why he was lingering, knowing her kissing Cameron would destroy him; but he had a strange feeling that something bad was going to happen and he had to stay with her.

Just before they stepped onto the property, Cameron grabbed her jaw and kissed her. It wasn't passionate at all, it was desperate and rushed; and begun to get a little too forceful. She found herself kissing him back weakly at first, almost cautiously and definitely reluctantly, but after a few seconds; his left hand on her hip got a little too low and his right hand tugged at her dress strap.

"Cameron..." She began, breaking off the kiss and trying to pull away, but he didn't stop. "Cameron, I don't want this!"

It was like he couldn't even hear her.

Tate felt his blood boiling, and he knew that if he could, he would snap Cameron's neck right then and there. But they weren't on the property, so he couldn't protect her, and it was killing him.

"Cameron, stop!" She slapped him hard across the face as her halter-neck satin ribbon holding her dress up was torn. She quickly pulled her dress up. "You're drunk, you asshole!"

"God, I'm sorry-" he began, realisation flooding into his features.

"Save it, you're just like the rest!" She yelled, turning and running up the path into her house. Cameron didn't pursue her, but Tate did, unknown to Dakota.

"Mom?" She called tearfully, in a small voice, slamming the front door behind her. "Daddy?"

They weren't home. Something must have come up, and Dakota had told them she'd come home at eleven and not ten, so it was fairly reasonable of them to leave if they felt it was necessary.

Dakota kicked her heels off and ran upstairs, holding her dress up still, though nobody was even home. She had locked the door behind her with her own key.

Tate followed her, of course, and all he wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.

She walked into her room and leaned against her wall, sighing with closed eyes and black tears streaming down her cheeks. The rain had soaked her hair, and she shivered uncontrollably.

"Dakota?" Tate called from outside her window, which was open a tiny crack- just enough for her to hear him over the rain. "Dakota!"

She took one glance at him and then turned around.

He was sure she didn't want to ever see him again, until he walked up to the front door, holding onto the tiniest of hopes that it would open any second now. And it did.

"Tate," she whispered shakily, her body still trembling.

"Dakota," he stepped inside and resisted the overwhelming urge to hug her tighter than he ever had before, if that was possible. But he didn't want to scare her off, so he stood a few steps back from her and just stared.

Dakota practically launched herself into his arms, which just seemed to feel like home to her. He was shocked, but instantly held her tightly against his chest, stroking her hair gently.

"He doesn't really want me," she choked out. "He told me he cared."

"Shh, I have you, I have you right here," Tate's voice cracked slightly, just at hearing and seeing her so upset. "I'm never going to leave you."

"I need you," she murmured. "I never wanted anyone else, I just want you, all the time, every second of every goddamn day."

"Hey, look at me, I'm right here," Tate said softly, bringing his head up from lightly leaning against hers to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm never going to stop coming after you every time you send me away."

"I didn't want to send you away," she looked up at him, a new wave of sobs coming over her after he said that. "You hurt me, Tate, why did you hurt me?"

Tate blinked back his own tears. "I didn't mean it, Kota, I would never want to hurt you. I promise. The thought or possibility of anyone hurting you... It makes me sick. All I ever wanted to do, since I saw you slicing your beautiful skin open, was protect you. That's all I'll ever want to do. Didn't I tell you I'd fix you every time you broke? Didn't I promise?"

She nodded, still staring up at him like a lost little kid.

"Dakota, I swear to you, I will never let myself do that to you again. You are the first person and the last person that I will ever love," Tate said, his voice shaking in that way that it always seemed to when he got as emotional as he was now. "Will you let me stay with you? Please?"

She nodded again, her words failing her.

Yes, there was something dark about Tate Langdon. There was something more than a little 'off' about him. More than a little unsettling. But there was also many wonderful things about them, and she knew she'd have to find a way to get the answers she needed if they were going to be together, because she couldn't afford to lose him and all these wonderful things and feelings... But tonight, it felt like all she really needed was to fall asleep in his arms and forget all of the pain.

Dakota's dad had always told her that humans were not medicine, and therefore could not cure people of anything psychological. But Tate and that smile of his that warmed her heart and those words of his that filled her head like a melody were pretty damn close.

AN: Okay, so there's loveable lil Cameron dropping the act and showing his true colours, although he was pretty drunk. Honestly, it was just another way to show Dakota who she really belongs with. Expect a lot more Takota in the next few chapters and some fluff :) I hope you liked this one guys, as always, please review!

Fun fact: I had an idea that maybe Tate could have actually killed Dakota in the last chapter when he was strangling her and it could all come out that she's already dead later but then I was like nah that's going to torture me and everyone else and we still have so much more stuff to happen in this story. So no, no way haha. That's definitely not happening but wow, imagine if it had?

I really liked writing her nightmare in this chapter and you can expect that to be discussed between them in the next update which will be up soon.