Journals

Dakota’s POV

Zayn doesn't look so pleased when I walk in with Harry. I’m not so pleased either, but if Harry made a promise to let my past go, then he did. Though if he breaks our promise one bit, I will kill him. I don’t take lying very well. After years of it, you start getting tired of hearing excuses.

“Hey Zayn, guess who I found,” I smile and nudge Harry. “Sorry for running. I’m really uncomfortable around girls.” I shrug.

Zayn furrows his eyebrows, “But aren't you a girl?”

I sigh, “Yeah, but when I was younger, girls were the ones who made fun of me. Guys hurt me too, but girls were more cruel. Look, can we not talk about one of my fears?”

Harry shrugs, “Sure. What do you you want to talk about?”

I shrug, “Tell me about yourselves. I don't exactly have the free time to Google you guys."

Zayn smiles, "Well, I'm twenty years old, have three sisters, and originally from Bradford. I my favorite movie is Freedom Writers and favorite song is Thriller by Michael Jackson."

I look over to Harry, "Well, I'm nineteen years old, have one sister, and from Holmes Chapel. I speak French and have four nipples." I furrow my eyebrows at his last comment. "I'm serious. Wanna see?" He asks grabbing the bottom of his shirt.

"Nooo." I answer. "Nope. No. Just don't." They laugh in unison. I hate it when guys show their bodies. It freaks me out. "But at least there's one interesting thing about you, Styles."

He gasps and grabs his chest, "I am offended."

I smirk and push him playfully, "You should be."

*~*~*~*

When I get back to the mansion, fear spikes to a new level. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit! I quickly pay the driver and run inside. Shiz. Blaine's home early. Stephanie isn't home and we're the only ones here. Is it too late to go back to Zayn and Harry?

The thirty-some year old sits on the couch with a glass of what looks like vodka. Whenever Stephanie's gone, he takes advantage of it and gets drunk. Sometimes he rapes me. I hate him with all my heart, but I have nowhere else to go. I need this job. I can't just leave. Maybe if I'm quiet, he won't notice me. I silently walk behind the couch and attempt to go to my room.

"Where are you going, darling?" I start crying he wraps his alcohol scented arms around me before leaving wet kisses along my neck. I try squirming out of his grip, but he digs his fingers into my hips. "Don't you dare try to get away. You work for me. You'll do as I say."

"Please," I choke out between sobs as he tosses me over his shoulder. "Please!"

He throws me harshly on the bed and rips each item of clothing off me. It's too horrible to describe. No matter what I plead, he's doesn't listen. He only gets rougher. When I see the condom come out, I cry harder. Just stop!

When he's done with me, he passes out. Thank God Stephanie isn't here. I don't need her hating me for another reason. I grab my clothes and trudge to my room across the hall. I out new clothes and check out my new bruises. He gave me multiple hickeys and bruises scattered about. I grab some makeup and cover up the discolored patches.

Then I head for my bed and cry like I always do. I can act strong when I want. Just not now. And before you say anything, cry isn't for the weak. It never was or will be. Crying is for the strong who've been strong for too long. People have walls up, but many have cracks. They're gonna break down some day, they just have to rebuild them.

I pull out my diary and start writing. Sometimes I think this is all I have. I'm almost right. I kind of have two people now.

Dear Diary,
I finally have friends. People finally care about me. Zayn Malik and Harry Styles from One Direction care about me. It's a long story. There's two people that don't want to talk about my life and still care. It's weird. Is this what friendship feels like? It feels warm. Should I tell them about my bruises? They're scattered on my body due to my encounter with Blaine. I just wish I had a home. This place, is not my home. Sometimes I wish I could have a hug.
-Dakota

My phones buzzes right as I put the book away. It's Zayn. I wipe my tears as best as I could I tried to sound calm. "Hey Zayn."

"Actually, it's Harry. Hey Dakota, what's wrong? You sound like you were crying." Dammit. "Dakota, if you want to talk about it, I'm always here."

I start crying not caring. In my room, I'm just the weak pathetic girl everyone makes me feel like. They're right. I'm nothing. Just a girl that cleans and cooks. A girl that can't even get her boss to stop raping her. "Can you come to London?"

"Of course, though since it's a couple hour drive, I'm gonna be there tomorrow. That okay?" He asks.

"I just need a friend. Time doesn't matter," I tell him. "See you later Harry."

"Bye Dakota," He says before hanging up.

Notes