You know those moments when you wake up from a really deep sleep? Where you are confused for a second or two because you don't know what time it is or day? Well, amplify that by ten. My mind is groggy, yet everything is crisp. I remember riding with my parents to Beacon Hills and talking about getting a pizza when we got to our new home. I remember the crash. I remember some stranger named Scott pulling me out from the flipped car. He kept saying that he was going to save me, that he refused to let me die.
The foggy part of my brain is the part that is trying to figure out how I am in my new bedroom, buried under my beige comforter with ruffles at the end of it. My mind feels as if I have woken a deep slumber. Maybe I was just so tired that night, fell asleep in the car, and had that nightmare? Dad could have easily carried me up.
Slowly, I peel the comforter back off of my body, sitting up against the padded headboard. I slide up my sweatpants, that I don't remember changing into, up. There's no cuts in my skin from the glass, my leg isn't twisted in a painful direction. I swing my legs off of my bed, skipping to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. Aside from the messy bedhead, my hair is clean, free of blood and tiny pieces of shattered glass.
A laugh escapes from my parted lips. It was all a dream. I push my hair back, checking to see the smooth, flawless skin on my temple. That was the worst nightmare I have ever had. Everything had felt so real and I swore it was. I felt everything.
I open my first drawer in the bathroom, finding my hairbrush. I run it through my hair a few times, before heading downstairs, where the strong smell of coffee is coming from. Dad had showed me pictures of this house before we moved in, and I seem to remember where everything is. I expect to be greeted by the sound of the living room tv with the local news, but it's not on. My dad isn't even in the living room with his '#1 Dad' I got for him when I was ten.
I stroll through the wide opening in the wall to the kitchen. The strong scent of medium roast coffee with a hint of hazelnut hits me in the face and I can't help but breathe in deeply. My mother isn't standing in the kitchen, though. My cousin, Jordan, is sitting on one of the stools at the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand, head bent to focus on a pile of papers in front of him.
"Jordan?" I call his name, coughing when I feel how dry my throat is.
Jordan's blonde head pops up at the sound of my face. "Dakota!" His mug is set down on the counter and he ditches the stool to rush to my side. One of his hands loop around my shoulders, leading me to the other stool. "Sit."
I oblilage to his order. He opens the pantry, grabbing a room temperature and tossing it my way. I catch it, unable to unscrew the lid fast enough. The water is, like, seeing for the first time to a blind person. When was the last time I had anything to drink? I slam the nearly empty bottle of water down, smiling in content.
Jordan leans against the other side of the counter, an undescribale emotion in his eyes. "How do you feel?"
My stomach rumbles, loudly. I laugh, "Hungry."
His eyes squint a little, like he expected me to say something else. "Well, uh, I made pancakes before. I still have some batter left."
"That works." I smile, appreciatively.
Jordan stares at me for a little bit longer.
"What?" I ask, not understanding why I'm being stared at like a lab experiment.
"Do you remember the past four days?" Jordan nonchalantly asks, reaching for the pancake batter behind him. He moves the griddle over to the counter we were both leaning on, plugging it into an outlet on the side of the counter.
"Yeah, I-" I stop myself.
Why would he be asking me that? Why is he even here in the first place? Mom and dad should be here. My eyes flick around the kitchen. There's no boxes or even a pile of kitchen electronics anywhere in the room. Mom takes forever to unpack. There's no way that everything would be put away already. Dad wasn't in the living room and the news wasn't on. That's a morning ritual for him. Dad never doesn't do that. Jordan's eyes hold sadness in them.
Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump
What is that noise? My head whips around the room, confused. My eyes land back on Jordan, they slide down a little to his chest. Is that- Is that his heatbeat that I hear? How can I hear that?! No one's heartbeat is that loud. I push away from the counter, stumbling a little.
Jordan rushes over to me, hands on my upper arms. "It's okay."
"My- My parents are dead." My tongue feels like lead. "How is that okay? I thought all of that was a dream, a very realistic dream."
"I'm sorry." Jordan hugs me, chin resting on the top of my head.
It was all real. Every second of that car crash was real.
I shove myself away from my cousin. "But- But I died."
Jordan shakes his head, eyes beginning to water. "No. No, you didn't. You surviving has stunned everyone, though. When the paramedics had gotten to you, you were laying in the middle of the road with no cuts on your body or any broken bones. It was like you were thrown out of the car, but landed on a mattress. You had no injuries."
"No, I saw my body. My leg was twisted in a horrible way, cuts were all over me, and my temple was bleeding." I slide my hair back, pointing to the side of my head. "I shouldn't be alive right now."
"Hey," Jordan grabs my shoulders. "You are aliive for a reason. You deserve to live."
"What about my parents?" I shout, everything boiling over. I suck in a breath, when all my emotion take over. I reach out to grab ahold of Jordan, as my legs wobble. "Oh, my God. My parents are dead. They're dead!" My breathing rapidly increases. "Why did I live and th-they didn't?"
"Everyone is saying you had a guardian angel watching over you." Jordan hugs me to his chest.
"Scott." I whisper, remembering the boy, who pulled me out of the car. He'll know what truly happened. He can tell Jordan that I'm not crazy.
"What?" Jordan sniffles. He doesn't cry often and I know he is trying to hold it back.
"Scott!" I wipe away a few tears. "He was there. I- I don't know who he is, but he had dark brown hair that was pushed up, brown eyes, um, kinda cute- but, Jordan, I swear, okay? I swear he was there."
Jordan raises an eyebrow. "Scott McCall?"
"Uh, maybe?" I wipe away more tears with the back of my hand. "Look, okay? I remember everything about the crash. I remember looking at my parents and- and I know how they d-dead. Mom broke her neck and something was piercing dad's chest, right?"
Jordan stares at me in shock. "No one told you that when you were in the hospital."
"See?! Just find this Scott boy, please?" I clasp my hands together, a single tear flowing down my left cheek. "He was there. He saved me! The crash was bad and we both know that I shouldn't be standing here without at least a broken bone. But, I was bleeding all over. I don't know how I healed. Jordan, you're a freaking deputy, I know you are curious about all of this. Please?"
He sighs, a mystifed look on his face. "I can't just bring an innocent kid into questioning for no reason."
"So find a reason!"
"Can't you just be thankful that you are alive? Remember that family motto you guys always used-"
"Life is all about moving forward." I whisper.
Those six words send a wave of warmth over my body. They taught me that a very young age. It was sort of like a medicine, in a way. When I was dumped by my first boyfriend when I was fourteen, mom repeated the saying to me. It only took me a day to be upset over the break up. Everything happens for a reason, even for stupid, horrible reason, but they do. This must have happened for a reason. A reason I hate. Mom and Dad have always told me that you can get over everything. When I was ten, I got grounded for two weeks because I punched a boy in my class for saying something rude to me. I looked right at my parents and said our life motto. They ungrounded me while laughing.
Mom and dad would never want me to be upset over this. Dad would say that you could cry a few times, but remember that things will get better no matter how hard everything may be. Mom would say that I will get through whatever it is, but I should always move forward, don't look back at the past. The two of them would want me to keep moving forward. It's like I can hear them up in heaven telling me to keep moving forward and don't be upset, that I should be thankful that I'm still alive. I'm going to make them proud of me.
I will be okay. I just need to keep moving forward, like I always do.
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Decided to give you a bit of an update. You might get another.
Dakota is actually very strong, emotionally anyways. She's been living by the "Life is all about moving forward." quote her whole life, ever since she was a baby, so she will be fine. She'll get through this.
I hope you guys weren't expecting me to tell you how Dakota is still alive. I can't give it to you that easily. You'll have to wait because I enjoy torturing you guys.
Jordan Parrish is her cousin! I've always loved Parrish and thought it would be cool to write about someone being related to him. And, I didn't want Dakota to be completely alone in this town. She needs someone she can count on. Although, they kind of act more like best friends than anything.
Also, @falsereality did the new cover. Isn't it great?!
I want an idea of who could play Dakota. So, give me some ideas, and kind of have her look a little similar to Parrish.
Question: Any ideas on what is going on with Dakota?
So, yeah!