Messy Nights and Modest Fights - Larry Stylinson Short Story

Chapter 21 - Breathe you in, hold you down

’Night Glo’ – Foxes (A beautiful song that instantly reminded me of Nakota and everything that goes with them) What do you think? Do you have any songs that remind of you Nakota? OR what do you think of Nakota, really, really think? And RG5332 SIT DOWN WE KNOW YOU HATE HER :P

Breathe you in, hold you down

Dakota swiped angrily at her eyes, in the reflection of the cold elevator doors she could see the streaks of black mascara like thick charcoal down her cheeks. She felt ugly, she felt ragged and dejected as she stared at the sober yet unrecognisable girl that stared back. Blank baby blues, washed with tears and red from alcohol gazed back with emptiness. She blinked, peeling her false eyelashes off and throwing the thick black feathered lashes to the floor. 

Her heels were weighing her down, ankles aching and shoulders burning from where Tyson had gripped her and thrown her against a brick wall. Her hands shook as she finally allowed herself to remember the feel of the cold, loaded gun against her temple. 

In the darkness of the alleyway, his breath was hot against her skin and if she closed her eyes it felt like Blake was inches from her once more. When he threatened her, well, Daisy she fought back because she thought, deep down she had someone to fight for. A family, in many ways she did Harry was like a brother and Jennifer, Liam, they were all so important to her. Then she thought of Niall, hoping one day he would realise how deeply she yearned for his heart in her hands, now she knew the truth. 

A girl, a stripper it was all the same. She pushed Porter away and this time he didn’t come back, he went to Sasha and yet again she was bitterly alone. She looked at the rose gold on her wrist, hoping desperately to fall into Jennifer’s arms. It was so late, too late for a heavily pregnant woman so Dakota sucked it up. The elevator door was cold against her forehead as she closed her eyes and tried to sober up, wiping furiously at the tears that spilled down her face. 

Why the fuck are you crying? She straightened up. No one ever cries for you. 

Dakota rounded her shoulders, shifted her weight on her heels and sucked in three deep breaths. She pulled out her red lipstick and began re-applying it to her plump lips in the reflection of the door. It was four in the morning, by the time she woke up and left for the airport she knew that her broken heart would subside. She mourned for the stability and kindness that Porter provided but she was also glad he was truly free. He deserved more then she could give him.

Dakota cracked her neck and blew a kiss at her reflection, her eyes looked bigger without the heavy set of lashes and she trailed her index fingers below her eyes to remove the excess, streaked mascara. Dripping mascara was hard to see, it reminded her of the old Dakota. The frightened, trapped Dakota.

That’s why she hated crying, crying was a reminder of the pain Blake put her through. The pain she felt only drugs could eradicate. The elevator lurched and level thirty-eight illuminated on the screen. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered to herself, not believing the words of wisdom. 

She looked down at her thin legs as the doors opened, she began walking but her breath caught when she noted a very familiar pair of white, Nike kicks. 

Niall.

In surprise her fingers raised to her parted lips, his name lingering on her breath as she stilled. He froze when she looked up at met his eyes, confusion and a flourish of hope rushed through her like adrenaline. She took another step forward, silent and he held a single red rose between his hands–knuckles white and chewing on his bottom lip. She knew his own nervous ticks like the back of her hand, she knew him sometimes better then she knew herself. Niall forced a smile, he was nervous and it made her want to run to him. Why are you nervous? It’s only me.