The 8 Days Of Dakota Grinn (boyxboy) *under editing

 I know it's not very good, but vote anyway!? :3 ------------------------------->

[[Dedicated to BringMeTheMemories because her stories really are amazing:3 And I uh.... forgot her birthday >-> sooooo.... HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY <3 xD]]

A/N: Sorry for the suuuper long wait D: I had (still have lol) so much fluffin homework to do with finals 'n all -.- I HATE stupid reading assignments on books no one cares about :c Can't we read like The Hunger Games or sum shizz instead of A Separate Peace or whuuutever??? ); bleh

I hope you like this chappy:3 It's not very good, but I try xD <33 vote, comment, and fan if you haven't, my amazing lovers<3

**PIC OVER THUR IS ANDY <3 -------------------------------------------------->

A horde of people surround me. Their sounds invade my senses like a symphony of battle cries. Children giggle and whine, teenagers gossip and hum to the background music, adults exchange their casual business. I weave through the engulfing crowd of people, trying to find a way out of the dying mass.

Like normal person's common nightmare, I'm buck naked. To me, however, this means an entirely different horror. If I stand completely still, people foolishly bump into me. Even though they say a polite 'Excuse me', the damage is already done. My skin sizzles or my stomach lurches. My heart aches or my throat compresses. The Numbers flash together in a long string of blinding light, making my mind reel. The back of my eyes burn with Numbers as if I was staring at the sun too long.

I try to escape; pushing and shoving is pointless. My skin is bare for all to touch. I try to scream for them to stop touching me, to go away. But the pain from every man, woman, and child keeps me silent, paralyzed.

Everywhere I turn, past relations flaunt their faces in front of me. I see my kindergarten teacher chase after Alan, a foster brother from South Dakota. A set of foster parents from Nebraska brush past me and I relive what I've already seen and felt.

The people I already knew bombard me with the memories of their death. I get pushed, trampled, and jostled until someone recognizes me: Lucy, my late foster sister.

Her blue eyes wide, she stops in front of me as her shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair whips around her face due to invisible wind. Little Lucy lifts her hand and brushes back the hair that's violently blowing into her eyes. “D-Dakota?”

My heart melts at her fragile voice. She was one of the only people I let get close to me. We'd stay up all night talking and playing games. I was fifteen at the time, but I didn't mind hanging around a five year old. Lucy was my rock and never treated me badly for dressing strangely.

“Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?” Lucy's eyes fill up with tears, making me remember when I unintentionally touched her, me recoiling instantly; she cried then too.

“I'm so sorry, Lucy.” I had to leave them. I demanded being moved right after I realized I became too attached.

Her eyes fill with hate as she glares at me. Immediately everyone else turns to me and does the same. All of the people I've touched start snarling nasty comments to me. I'm a freak, I should be killed, I'm a murderer. They all ask me why I didn't help them or why I abandoned them.

I hurts to hear what I've always feared of. They hate me, hate what I do, but deep down, love that I left them. People that I considered family, friends crowd around me and place their hands on me. I scream in agony, for their touch brings a new type of pain entirely.

I cry out for help, but no one listens. My body sore, I finally give up. I fall limply into the throng of people.

The crowd disperses and their Numbers are erased from my mind. A featureless figure passes through my memories, as if they were ghosts, and steps closer to me. A hand extends to me, wanting to help me up. I slowly reach up, about to accept the person's offering. A sense of harmony surrounds us; all feels safe. My fingers brush against their warm palm and everything fades away.