In the five years Dakota has been in jail the past three have been the hardest for both of us. When I initially reached out to her, I kept good on my word. Visited often, wrote, called, and while Dakota was finally getting better. Finally, off suicide watch and out of solitary, I declined.
It's like when one of us is doing good, the other isn't. Visiting her so much was taking a toll on me. There I was on book tours and talk shows telling everyone how Dakota tried to kill me and how scared I was, then turning around to visit her in prison. My mind started to get confused again.
Which was true?
Was I her victim, a poor girl traumatized beyond repair by a horrible monster?
Or was I just a girl who fell in love with someone who made some bad choices in life, but wasn't a monster, at least not all the time?
Was it possible that both could be true at once?
It was that third year of her being in prison that everything came apart for me. I started seeing Antonia again on the book tour, at first I didn't tell anyone. But then I started having panic attacks again and freaking out. I told BB first, then everyone else after. I stopped visiting Dakota for a while, took more counseling, more medication, and spent more time with family and friends.
The visions would slow down, but I also have been diagnosed with PTSD. Sometimes something stressful will take me back to that year and I get confused again. Transported back in time to that traumatic time in my life.
Dakota got sad I stopped visiting her and tried to kill herself again. That was her fourth year in prison. I had to sit down and have a long talk with her, about my wellbeing, about her wellbeing, about the two of us needing to get better. After that, I resumed limited visits and limited calls and letters. That seemed to be a good balance for both of us.
While neither of us was 100% we were managing, and that was good enough. Or it was...
But my mind can't tell if it wants more Dakota or no Dakota. All these emotions and feelings are so confusing and overwhelming. This past year our letters have really increased and taken a turn into forbidden territory.
These backslides I have, have become too common. Lucky for me, I have a sturdy foundation to fall on.
The Foundation
Every time I have a backslide, I have to gather my family, and Lesly, and tell them. I do this for two reasons, the first is so they know and will keep from mentioning that year of my life or my book, which they hardly do anyway. No one wants to forget that awful year more than my family.
The second reason is to hold myself accountable. By telling them I can't pretend it's not happening, can't lie to myself. My therapist is the one who told me to start doing this, and it helps. Because then my family starts hounding me to go to therapy and take my medication and I start doing good again.
"Sorry to call you guys here on such short notice," BB says to everyone.
Today both my parents are present, and so is my brother, but not his wife, and of course Lesly is here too. We are all meeting at my grandmother's house, the one I am expected to buy. I sigh and sit down on the coffee table, running my hands down my face.
"Melony, what's wrong baby," Mom says in a worried tone.
Instantly I want to cry. I sob silently into my hands and shake my head. I always feel so ashamed when I have to say this.
BB sits next to me and rubs my back.
I hear Lesly sigh sadly.
"Mel?" my brother Marcus says.
I take a shaky breath, trying and failing to hold back tears.
"It's happening again," I sob. "I'm backsliding."
"Tell us what happened baby," Dad says.
"I would really rather not," I wipe my face and sniffle.
"It was bad this time, might be the worst one yet," BB says.
"Don't say it like that," I look at her incredulously through tears.
"I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Melony! This time was bad and you know it. I can't believe you—"
"Don't tell them!" I shout to cut her off.
She sighs.
"Please," I beg.
"Fine," she relents.
"Mel you know we are here for you," Lesly comes and sits on the other side of me.
"As of yesterday, Melony is going full no contact with Dakota. I have told the prison the same thing and her doctors and everyone agrees that this is the right call. I even visited Dakota myself to tell her to stop," BB explains.
"You visited her," Lesly shudders at the thought.
"I had to." BB meets her eyes.
"Don't talk about her like that!" I stand and turn on BB. "You know how I feel about that," I snap at her.
"Melony," she says in concern.
"No! Okay, so maybe I went too far this time but Dakota—"
"Stop trying to rationalize it. We've been over this. What did your therapist say?" BB quickly counters.
"I don't know! Just shut up okay! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Nothing makes sense! I'm overwhelmed!" I fall to my knees.
She quickly gets down on the floor next to me and pulls me into her arms.
I just scream into her chest, burying my head and crying. I hate feeling this way. So conflicted. Part of me agrees with them. Agrees that Dakota is a monster who took advantage of me and the situation to try and manipulate me. The other part of me...
The other part remembers how sweet she was. How funny. How soft and caring. Remembers the times she'd hold me in her arms, stay up watching movies with me, or let me watch her do her homework just so I wouldn't be bored. She wasn't a monster...
Or was she?
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
She volunteered to help disabled people. She murdered someone. That person was a bully! She kidnapped me. She took care of me, she didn't lock me up somewhere. She tried to kill me, more than once. She has mental health issues! So do I now...
So do I.
I get so overwhelmed I end up passing out. I wake up in my old bedroom at my grandmother's house. Alone. The doctors told me this would happen. That it would take years to undo what Dakota did to me. That I might never undo it. That I would have to live with this unhealthy attachment to her for the rest of my life.
A part of me, a very quiet and tired part of me, wishes Dakota was dead. That way I wouldn't have to be like this anymore. I could grieve, I could move on. I would finally be free of this curse. That same part of me knows I might never recover if she did get killed in prison. It would break me.
I slowly get up out of bed and creep out of the room and down the hall. Everyone is still in the living room talking to BB.
"I caught her red-handed, according to prison records it's been going on for a couple of months at least," BB says.
I stay behind the corner, listening to them.
"Damn it," Marcus says.
"We knew it was possible, we have to be patient with her. It's like the doctor said, Melony might always feel that way toward Dakota. We have to accept that, we don't have to support it, but we have to accept it." I hear Lesly say.
"I wish they gave that demon the death penalty," Mom says, I can tell she's been crying.
"If she ever gets out I'll kill her myself," Dad says.
"Melony will be starting counseling again next week, she had an emergency session this morning. But I'm gonna need you guys to help her out this time. I'm gonna be taking on extra hours at work, try to save up money to help her buy the house." BB says.
"What happened to the book money?" Mom says.
"Melony doesn't want to rely on it for the house, not that I blame her. She has anxiety about going back to work. Plus, I'm not sure what it would mean to her to buy the house using money she got from that book, about that time in her life. She's been trying to distance herself from that year as much as she can. I told her I'd help her get the house, but with me working more you guys will have to make sure she's actually going to her appointments and not..."
I feel my stomach turn.
That's what happened during my last backslide. I was saying I was going to the doctor but instead was visiting Dakota in prison. BB nearly broke up with me over it. It seems like all our major fights are about the same thing, the same person.
"How did Dakota take the news of going no contact with Melony?" Lesly says after a pause.
"How do you think? She's just as obsessed with Melony as she was the day the police caught her. It's like she thinks she owns Melony or something. She's sick in the head. She wasn't happy about the news, not one bit. I wouldn't put it past her to try something again just to get Melony's attention."
"With any luck, she'll actually kill herself this time," Marcus says.
I can't listen to it anymore, I quickly go back to my bedroom.
I don't like listening to them talk about Dakota like that. Yes, she's done bad things but I don't want her to kill herself. Not like her sister did. They don't understand, I am the only one who visits and talks to Dakota in prison. Her family has completely disowned her. Without me, Dakota has no one. I don't think Carolina would want me to leave her sister to fend for herself.
I slide down the door in the bedroom and pull my knees to my chest.
Lately, I've been feeling bad like Dakota, thinking things I shouldn't. About taking my own life. I just get so overwhelmed. Everyone keeps telling me that liking Dakota is bad, that what she did was terrible, something that went down in history as one of the craziest killer stories. There are documentaries talking about Dakota, about her twisted mind, about the murder of Antonia Hernadez and my kidnapping. They paint her like a monster. One among the ranks of the worst in the world. The world calls her sick, twisted, and psychotic. But... I never saw her like that.
I still don't.
And if everyone is saying the same thing, does that make me the wrong one? The one who can't separate fantasy from reality? The sick and twisted one? They make me feel bad about myself. About the way I feel. I just get so tired of hearing everyone demonize her. Demonize me for liking her. Sometimes I just want the noise to stop.
It's like a buzz that slowly grows louder and louder. A horrible sound filled with all these horrible things people say about her, and me, and Antonia, and even Carolina sometimes. All the news clips and crime docu-series. All the court jargon and police press releases. Eventually, it gets so loud that it all blurs together and all I hear is,
"Somebody help me!"
Antonia crying out for help, her bloody hand reaching out for me.
And then there it all is, in black and white. Dakota slicing open the throat of a girl, the blood dripping onto my feet. The moment I looked into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. The moment I looked into the eyes of death.
How can I say Dakota isn't that bad when I saw her do that?
I saw her.
I saw it...
Am I messed up? Am I the wrong one? Am I the crazy one?
I take in deep breaths, trying to calm myself as tears drip quickly down my face. It doesn't stop, it never stops. That year of my life, always flashing through my mind, every bad and good moment clashing off against each other. Is she a monster? Is she not a monster?
I wish I was blind. I wish I never saw her do that. I wish I had amnesia and that I don't remember that year of my life. I wish Antonia was alive and Dakota was not in prison. But most of all, I just wish I was dead.