The Terrible Life of Dakota.

Dear Diary,
I'm sick of hiding who I am. But I can't face them. That's too hard. Maybe life's easier while you hide your face, so no one can see how different you are.
Love, Dakota.

'The Terrible Life of Dakota' is about a girl who looks different than others. Just because of that, nobody accepted her. So she left the place she lived in to find another, but the events of the past have left their scars. Literally.
This is how she lives her life now. Always hiding the part of her, that's different.

*Runner-up in the Ava Lavender Competition*


4. Accepted.

School was surprisingly funny. The people were way more friendly then the people from my old school. It felt like they didn’t care how I look, they are just nice to me. Of course I made sure no one could see my scar, but no one minded. I even got a compliment about my hair.

Troy has been there all the time. He talked to the headmaster, who didn’t mind that I started school in the middle of the year. Troy even got me in his class. He helped me with the subjects, he explained things I didn’t understand and he took me everywhere I needed to go. It feels like I have a friend.

It’s been a while since I last felt that feeling.

He offered to take me home, since he has to go the same way. So now I’m on his carrier, while he’s driving on his bike. The wind blows through my hair, but he can’t see my face, so I don’t mind. I wrap my arms around his body so I can’t fall and I feel his warmth. He’s singing a song I don’t know and his voice sounds like an angel. My heart starts beating faster and my lips curl into a smile. I can’t remember when I last smiled, and a boy I just know for one day is able to make me smile again. I wonder what he thinks about me.

But then I remember the scar. What if he sees it? He would think I’m ugly. I know for sure.

We arrive at my home, and I realise I don’t want to let go of him. I like his smell and the warmth of his body. But I jump of his bike, though. Quickly, I hide my scar with my hair. “Thank you for the ride, Troy,” I say. “You’re welcome, Dakota. See you tomorrow?” he asks. He wants to be sure I will still be there tomorrow. We stand in front of each other, only a few inches between us. What do I need to do? Hug him? Kiss him? I want to but I don’t. I just say: “See you tomorrow.” And I go into my house.


When I open the fridge, I’m surprised. Apparently, the old woman has bought me some groceries. It’s full of delicious food, and I immediately start cooking. I put on the radio, and I start dancing around. I’ve never felt so happy. And that’s all because of Troy. He changed my life. He changed me. I feel so comfortable with him.

Soon it’s too hot inside, and I open a window. But that’s not enough, so I change my trousers into shorts and put my hair into a ponytail. My scar is visible now, but no one can see. I continue cooking my dinner and singing along with the radio, until I forget all the rest.

Then, a knock on the door. My happiness has taken over my body and I forget how I look, when I open the door. Troy is standing right in front of me, smiling. But his smile vanishes when he sees me. And I remember the ponytail. I remember the scar.

“Oh, god,” I whisper and tears of shame run down my cheeks. I close the door and get down on the floor. He saw my face. Now he will think I’m ugly. I cry and sob and I can hardly breathe. He will be gone now, I think. But then suddenly, another knock. “Dakota!” he yells. “Open the door. Please.” I can’t. I don’t want him to see me anymore. I want him to forget how ugly I am. Maybe he will like me when he forgets. “Dakota, open the door, or I’ll use violence to get in there,” he warns me. But still, I don’t move.

He must have noticed the open window, because one minute later, he sits in front of me. His hands goes from my shoulders down to my hands and I grab his. He whispers comforting words and presses little kisses on my hands. But I still can’t stop crying. “Go away,” I say firmly. “I don’t want you to see me.” “I can’t,” he says. “I can’t leave you. I can’t see you cry. Look at me.” The sound of his voice convinces me to actually do that. He sounds so loving. I slowly look up to him. He examines my face. First, he looks to the right side, the normal side. Then, the left side. He brings his hand towards it and I don’t pull back. He gently touches my scar, following it from my eyebrow to my chin. He grabs my chin and pulls me closer. Just before our lips touch, he stops. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. And then we kiss. My heart starts beating again, and I forget the pain. I love this boy, and he loves me. I can hardly believe it.

He accepts me the way I am.

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