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Chapter 38– That someone is Dakota Black:

        There are two men standing before me, their appearances vastly different from each other.

        One man has really curly, dark brown hair; a pair of deep brown eyes to match. He has a large physique, one most subjects would find intimidating, but to me it brings a different feeling, although I don't exactly know what it is. He wears a pair of dark trousers and, if possible, an even darker top, his sleeves short, showcasing dark, muscular biceps and veiny forearms. However, despite his slightly scary appearance, he has a soft smile on his face as he looks at me, warm and inviting like Nine's.

        The man next to him is a bit smaller in size, his form leaner, his stance not as threatening. He has lighter hair and brighter features; a kinder look to him in general. He wears a white top, his trousers a faded blue. His hands are in his pockets, his shoulders back, his demeanour open and inviting, or so it seems. He doesn't have the drawings on his skin like the other man does, his arms are bare.

        I get up from the floor, and as I stand, I notice my body isn't in pain anymore. My foot isn't bent at an odd angle, my skin isn't tainted with bruises, my head doesn't hurt. I look down an wiggle my toes, the usually cold floor warmer than I remember it. I then look back up to the two men, the man with the dark skin chuckles and I find myself in awe of the sound. I like him the best.

        I walk smoothly towards the two, no limp in my step, the door of my cell strangely wide open. They watch me closely, their heads doing the same tilt mine does.

        I reach them in seconds; quicker than I usually would due to not having any broken bones. I stand in front of the pair, and because I only reach their hip, I lift my head so I can see their faces properly. They see my struggle, so they both crouch down so their height mirrors mine.

        And then there I stay for who knows how long, my eyes jumping between both of their faces, tracing their features and memorising their differences. I like their smiles. The man with the dark eyes has the best one, while the man with lighter eyes has nicer cheeks.

        They don't speak a word to me, nor do I to them. I've never seen them before in my entire worthless life, but somehow I know who they are.

        They're those parents Nine used to speak of.

        While they're not exactly like Nine had described them, they're my own take on what I would picture my parents to look like. Nine mentioned that she had a female parent, her mom, and the other was male, her dad. I think mine are both males because I liked the idea of having one of those dads so much that I wanted two of them. Mum's seemed fine, too, from Nine's description of them, but not at all like a dad sounded.

        I always wanted two dad's ever since Nine told me about hers.

        I look up, my head tilting. It's the only way I really know how to show interest without voicing it.

        They smile down at me still, and while I'm basking in the positive attention, I still wish Nine was here to finally meet my parents.

        But perhaps they'll take me to her soon.

___

        I had that dream a lot. It was the same one a majority of the nights for months and months. The first time I had it I remember waking up and feeling so disappointed that I almost forgot how to breath as my chest caved in on itself and my stomach churned with the feeling to be sick. I hated the fact I had woken up to the same cold cell with the same pain I had gone to sleep in. But I hated the fact I had woken up alone even more.

        It was pathetic really.

        And maybe just a little sad...

        "Kody!" Dakota snaps his fingers in front of my face, holding half a sandwich between his teeth. I blink to refocus my vision and smack his hand away, though it doesn't do much as he was already starting to pull away from me, probably anticipating my action. "I said, what was the weirdest dream you've ever had."

        "I don't dream," I lie easily, rolling my eyes and throwing my empty bottle of coke behind me, the plastic hitting the wall with a small bang. Dakota gives me a disapproving look and I shrug. "Can buy a new mattress but can't invest in a fucking trash can?"

        He shakes his head, "Whatever. So you don't dream?"

        I tear at the bread of my ham sandwich and put a small bit into my mouth for something to chew on. "No. What's with the questions, anyway?"

        Dakota swallows his mouthful of food before answering, dusting the crumbs off the bedsheet. "Well I don't know how else to talk to you," he admits. "If I don't start a conversation with you, we don't talk. And if I don't ask you a direct question that warrants an answer, you don't say anything."

        "Oh," I scoff, "So it's my fault you're annoying and nosey?"

        "Precisely," he grins. He laughs when he sees me roll my eyes at him. "No, but seriously, I do want to get to know you... I just don't know how to do that. You're kind of a little... different to the average girl-- or human being in general, really. And I don't socialise much," he looks a little sheepish, and I wonder why he always seem so nervous around me when he's so confident and sure of himself around everyone else.

        "I think you know me better than most people, Kota. You don't need to try so hard. It's obnoxious."

        He smiles then, lifting himself from his slanted position and moving to rest upright against the wall. "Really?" He asks, looking way too pleased with himself. "Even Jace?"

        I snort, it's quiet but he hears the mocking in it. "Of course not, estupido. You'll never know me better than that asshole."

        He thinks it over for a moment before shrugging. "I suppose second place isn't too bad," he decides. I, on the other hand, severely disagree but keep my mouth shut. If he's happy with second best, then that's his problem. "So... does it bother you?" He asks me, his blue eyes curious. "That I know you better than others?"

        "Truthfully?" I raise an eyebrow, causing him to nod, his annoying blonde strands of hair falling over his forehead. "I don't know..."

        A calm silence falls over us after my confession, neither one of us caring to break it for the time being. The wind outside howls loudly, the tree branches knocking periodically against the exterior of the manmade hut. Nine is nowhere in sight to ruin the peaceful moment, and my eyes almost start to close as I lay gazing up at the ceiling, my head resting by Dakota's hip.

        "Who made this?" I ask, my voice a little quieter than usual as to not ruin the calmness around us. I barely even realise I've asked the question, considering I normally don't want to converse with Dakota ever. But it's out now so I can't take it back.

        I hear him chuckle quietly, but it sounds a little forced. "Why? Do you think I'm incapable of doing this by myself?"

        "Yes." I don't miss a beat.

        He sighs quietly, the sound almost getting lost in all the noises that form a harmony outside. His face drops almost instantly, like he doesn't find it funny anymore. A little while passes since I asked my question and I almost believe he's not going to answer.

        Until he does.

        "My dad," he says in a soft tone, almost like a whisper. "We did this as a project for my twelfth birthday. It took us a good few weeks."

        "Does he know you still come up here?"

        I feel the mattress shift beneath me and turn on my right side to find Dakota standing up, collecting all the uneaten food from the bed. I watch him with heavy eyes, waiting for my reply. I'm confused as to why he chose now to start tidying up, but when he has the food gathered in his arms and he tells me that his dad died shortly after his thirteenth birthday, I realise he's trying to distract himself from this conversation.

        Talk about fucking awkward... Jace never prepared me for a conversation like this.

        "It's fine, I'm here," Nine crawls up next to me on the bed, appearing out of nowhere; like usual. "Just do as I say... Or rather say as I say, alright?" I nod, not bothering to argue with her when she uses her no-nonsense tone. "Okay. Say you're sorry to hear that."

        I pull a face and shake my head, mouthing 'No way' at her deformed little figure.

        "Just do it, Harlow. For once try and be a nice, understanding, supportive, sensiti--."

        "I'm sorry to hear that," I oblige just to shut her the fuck up. Dakota looks up from where he's bent down, picking up his own empty bottle of soda. He looks surprised, but I would be, too, if I were him.

        "Good. Now say that, that must have been hard."

        "That that must've been hard," I repeat, noticing as the words come out of my mouth that it sounds a little odd.

        "No, you only had to say one 'that'"

        "Um, thank you?" Dakota looks suspicious.

        "Nevermind, I don't think he noticed, he probably just thought you stuttered."

        "I don't stutter," I say a little defensively.

        "What?" Dakota furrows his eyebrows. "I never said you did."

        "What?" I ask him, confused as to what he's talking about.

        "You just said you don't stutter."

        "Yeah... I don't."

        His expression is perplexed. "What?"

        "This is so awkward," Nine shakes her head from side to side slowly. "Well done, Harlow. The one time I actually got you to be nice and you fuck it up."

        Right, fuck off now.

        "So your dad," I try to revive the conversation now that Nine has pissed off. "How'd he die?"

Even I know, without Nine's grimacing form next to me, that maybe that wasn't the best question I could have asked. Not because it will offend Dakota, but because now I have to deal with whatever emotional turmoil it will bring him.

I've just fucked myself.

        "He was shot while on duty."

"Oh."

        "Yeah..." he trails off uncomfortably.

        I've never seen Dakota look so lost before, so sad. It makes me want to take back my initial question, the one that, had it not been asked, would have avoided all of this. But I know that I can't, it's too late now.

        It's always a little too late.

        Dakota comes to sit back down next to me once there's nothing else left to tidy up. He's quiet, but I notice he sits a little closer to me than he did before. I stare at the side of his face as he stares blankly at the wall, not bothering to hide the fact I'm gawking at him.

        "I'm sorry," I say without being forced to. It's the most sincere I've ever been, and it's also my first official apology. Dakota's head whips around and his eyes are wide with shock. "I mean, I'm not sorry that he died, that's life, it happens. I also didn't know him, so I don't really care."

        Kota's face loses the shocked expression and he frowns. "What kind of condolence is this?"

        I roll my eyes. "I'm not sorry that he died," I repeat. "But I am sorry that it hurts you." My eyes bore into his, and whether it's because I have nowhere else to look, or because subconsciously I'm trying to show him how sincere I am, I don't know. "I'm sorry that you have someone to miss."

A few seconds pass before he says anything, he just stares at me with a weird expression. "Why are you being nice?" He asks, shifting a little so he can see me better, I assume. However, the move makes it so his face is much closer to mine than it was before.

I shrug, an action that implies I don't know when I do. "We're never going to talk about this again, okay?"

Dakota smile lightly and nods. "Then if that's the case, mind if we carry this moment on a little longer?" I shake my head, but I think he knew that was going to be my answer because he doesn't look surprised. "Then I'm gonna have to sing like a canary."

"I hate you, did you know that?" I say through gritted teeth, shifting away from him and laying down, going back to staring at the wooden ceiling. "If you want to talk, talk. Don't expect me to say anything heartfelt or meaningful."

The mattress shifts again, Dakota laying down beside me. He adjusts himself so his arms are folded across his stomach and he annoyingly bounces his right leg ever so slightly where it hangs off the bed. "So I can talk and you'll listen?" He clarifies. I nod. "Okay."

        "Okay," I repeat back, waiting for him to start.

"He was thirty-five when he died," he starts off strong with the depressing topic. "Had me at twenty-two, a one-night stand gone wrong," he chuckles then, but I can't tell if it's bitter or if he genuinely finds something amusing. I guess we're jumping right into it. "The woman he slept with left me straight after I was born, so my dad raised me alone— no help. I've never met my grandparents, not that I can remember. He was an only child, or so he always told me, and his parents never had much family either, so it was just me and him for a while." I see the way his head tilts from the corner of my eyes, checking to see if I'm still listening. He might not know it, but I am.

"He used to be in the army— honourable discharge. He coped with it by getting drunk and that's how I came about. He always told me if I hadn't been born he didn't think he'd have ever sorted his life out. When I was seven he met this girl named Megan. She was younger, a few years or so. We hated each other but it seemed like she really liked my dad so I never said anything. Then two years on and along came my brother."

"There's another Dakota Black?" I choke out in surprise, sitting up abruptly and slightly leaning over his reclined form. His eyes scan my face, almost distracted. He nods. "Your dad should have stopped after you," I fall back down on the mattress.

He laughs. "Yeah, but I'm glad he didn't. My little brother is my whole world," he speaks so softly, so sincerely, that I wonder if I hear him properly. No one can feel that strongly for another person, can they?

"Yes, Harlow."

"I've never seen him," I point out dumbly, ignoring Nine's voice in my head. "Does he live with you, or Mary?"

He snorts. "Megan. But no, she bailed when my dad died. I hate her for it, of course— she abandoned my little brother. But I know how much she loved my dad, you know? When he died she was a shell of the person she used to be," he moves his hands, they now lay at his sides and he grips the blankets almost unnoticeably. "She left Finley with me after we got kicked out of our house. We couldn't pay the bills, we started to go into debt," he goes a little silent for a second. "They took everything we had."

It clicks then, the reason why Dakota is the way he is. "That's why you fight?" I turn my head, my cheek pressed against the pillow.

Dakota nods but doesn't look at me, he just continues to look at the ceiling. "I sub-let the house I have now. It's not much, but it's a roof over our head. Well... over my head."

"Don't tell me your brother's dead, too. Because this is about to get really fucking depressing if it isn't already."

I see his cheeks rise in a sad smile. "No, he's not dead. But he is sick... very sick. That's the real reason I signed the contract with Mac. The hospital bills pile up, we don't have insurance. Then there's his medication..." he pauses again, I let him. "He's in hospital at the moment, he just seems to keep getting worse. He needs surgery, but I can't afford it yet. I don't know what to do, Kody." A laugh escapes his lips, though this time I can definitely tell it sounds bitter. "I don't know what to fucking do and I'm terrified." His jaw clenches, his muscle ticking, and then he turns his head and his blue eyes meet mine. They glisten in the candlelight. He's full of despair. "What the fuck do I do?"

        I want to speak; I do. But my tongue feels like it's stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips are glued shut. I have no smart remark, no snappy retort. I have no advice to offer.

        For once in my life, I feel sorry for someone.

        And that someone is Dakota Black.

        Gross.

        "I went a little too far, didn't I?" Dakota's dimples show, his cheeks turn a little red despite the chilly air. "Sorry. I just... I've never told anyone that before."

        "Well, there's better people you could have chosen to speak to about this... like a therapist," I suggest.

        "Lovely." I shrug at his remark. "So uh, now that I feel extremely fucking exposed, how about you tell me something nobody knows about you?"

        "Not a fucking chance," I object, shaking my head the best I can with one cheek against the pillow. Dakota smiles and nods. "No way."

        "Come on, Kods. Please?"

        "Is this you manipulating me?" I scrunch my face.

His eyebrows furrow and he looks offended. "Woah, what? Of course not, Kody. What the fuck?" I shrug again. "Why would you even think that?"

        "Jace does it a lot. It helps him get me to do things," I admit.

        "That's fucked up," Dakota remarks. I nod my agreement. It is, but it's the only way I ever listen to him. "Well, just know that I'll never ever do that to you, Kodes. Alright? I'm not going to fuck with your emotions like that."

        It could be his words, or it could be the sincerity in his tone, but I believe him. I believe him enough to take a deep breath and say:

        "I think I fucked up."

___

Author's Note

Bit of a long one for you (: I felt nice and just couldn't stop writing. This chapter was kind of an impulse chapter, and I don't know how this is going to affect the storyline (what's to come next) but I am seriously winging this story, lol. Every chapter is not only a surprise for you, but for me as well.

So here we are. See you in the next one (: