My Dear Dakota

Dakota returned the week after that, dropping the book off. She seemed frail, though. The light was gone, the circles were back, and this time she had on a big scarf that nearly covered the whole bottom half of her face. Her coat was pulled shut and her arms were covered, and I knew something must have happened again.

"Dakota, what's wrong?" I didn't even ask if she wanted any new recommendations.

"Rachel, I... I can't come back here for books. Don says they're filling my head with wishful thoughts, and he doesn't want that," she murmured, avoiding my eyes. Who the fuck was Don?

"Who the fuck is Don?" I asked, walking up to her. I grasped gently onto her shoulders and gazed at her dull blue eyes. She flinched at my touch and I frowned, taking my hands off of her immediately.

"My boyfriend..."

"Is that who did it?"

She nodded.

"Dakota, you don't need him. Why are you with him?" I was so confused and worried.

"He says he'll do something bad to my family and me if I do..." She was shaking, so I wrapped her up in a tight hug and pressed her head to my shoulder, and my fingers ran through her hair. It was so soft and she smelt like roses.

"To hell he won't," I murmured, my heart racing.

"I have to go, he's calling me. He thinks I went out for cigarettes for him, he doesn't know I'm here," and just like that she had left.