Danny, Dakota, and the Wishing Well

v. the betrayed

February 11, 1967

A bitter breeze blew in from the window as Dakota lied on her and Michael's king-sized bed. She turned on her side and felt how cold it was compared to her warm body. She guessed that he had been gone for about three hours now. Even though he had said he would be home for dinner yet Michael was no where to be found. 

Agitated, Dakota sat up stiffly. She wanted to know where he was and now. She was sick and tired of waiting for her husband to come home late from work. It didn't always used to be this way. Two years ago, they were a happy and carefree couple. Michael had gotten a job almost instantly and they rented a small but quaint apartment. Those first two years were amazing but they were not meant to last as it seemed.

Something had shifted, one day Michael had come home from work looking rather frazzled. Of course, ever the doting wife, Dakota was concerned. She remembered him clearly shrugging off her worries as if his state was no big deal. Dakota made him his favorite drink and helped him relax. But when she leaned in to plant a kiss on his scruff, she had gotten a whiff of it. Perfume. 

Dakota was bewildered because it most obviously was not her own (she barley used the smelly stuff). This one particular perfume was delicate and sweet but a bit overpowering for her nose. Dakota's face became a bright red and she instantly stopped touching her husband, and backed away from his slowly. Was he cheating on her? 

"Honey, what's wrong?" Michael asked, confused as to why his wife's face was in utter shock. Shaking her head, she retreated to the small cozy kitchen, not even hearing the questions coming from Michael. Michael, who supported them when they ran away. Michael, who was loyal and sweet. Michael, who was suddenly a lying bastard. Yet, she did not confront him. Dakota decided to wait and see if she could find out anymore information. She did not want to confront him upfront without any evidence besides a whiff of an unknown perfume. 

Lost in her own world, she jumped when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Dakota looked up as Michael smiled down at her. 

He kissed her lips and thanked Dakota for the drink. Of course, all Dakota could think about was the smell. It floated around her noise as if taunting her with the knowledge that someone else besides herself was sleeping with him.

Michael then staggered into the small bedroom and told her to join him when she was done cleaning the kitchen. Dakota dropped the tea towel she was holding and ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair. Maybe she was just overreacting. Maybe he had just hugged some lady at work. That had to be it. 

At least that's what Dakota tried to make herself believe.

---

March 20, 1967

Dakota walked briskly along the busy street at the sharp time of 8:05 p.m. Many people were out and about, surprisingly. She kept her head down as she walked along the cracked sidewalk. Occasionally, she bumped into someone, making her have to lift her head up and apologize. Every time this occurred, the other person would see someone who had slowly fallen apart.

Her makeup was barely given any effort, hair wild and untamed, and eyes that seemed to look as though they had given up on seeing the joys of life. Although this may have sounded like a bit of an exaggeration, this is what Dakota had become. And now, as she stalked the seemingly loving couple only a few yards ahead of her, those once-bright happy green eyes were a deadly darkened shade of the betrayed. 

The man and woman ever so often kissed, giggling to themselves as though they had some sort of an unbelievably funny secret. And as the man turned to squeeze the girl's waist to his side, Dakota saw the same crooked nose she had been looking at for almost three years now. Michael. The woman turned her head back behind her, casually, and Dakota saw the unmistakable face of her very best friend, Natalie.