Chapter 2 - You hold the rights I'll never own

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You'll hold the rights I'll never own

The roof of 'Gala' Nightclub was cordoned off, thick yellow police tape stretched around the street where Dakotas lifeless body lay sprawled like a rag doll on top of Mercedes. Sirens wailed above the chatter of people who lined the streets, blue and red lights flashed continuously from the squad cars and the colours flickered ominously into the night.

The party ended, much to the surprise of guests, when the police showed up and everyone, apart from Management were quickly rushed from the nightclub. All the lights were on and the nightclub looked strange, empty, even lifeless. Bottles and trash was splayed along bench tops and the dance floor was barren. The music died out and all that was left were the staff who told their account of what they had seen or heard to unemotional robot-like police officers who wrote down everything they were told and nodded simultaneously.

The streets surrounding the nightclub were lined with gawkers and concerned fans that instantly set up watch to keep the world updated, for all they knew one of the boys were hurt. Their heads raised expectantly each time someone exited the building and with shaking voices they pleaded for information, in their eyes the fan base was going into overload.

Twitter was trending, #PrayForTheBoys and #RIPDakotaFox and they stood with cameras ready to reassure all the fans sitting behind their screens, tear filled eyes and hands clenched tightly around pillows that the boys, their idols, were alive and well.

Dakota's death was sudden and unexpected sending a ripple of pain and confusion through the fan base, the media and fans alike were going wild from the revelation of her 'suicide.' Some theorised she was murdered, others say it was an accident, there was a small portion of Larry shippers who were convinced she did it out of guilt from keeping Harry and Louis apart and on a small level, they were right.

They would never know the extent of what the boys went through with Dakota and perhaps she would always be painted as a villain but, in fact she was a girl who was in insurmountable pain. Despite all the evidence they had against her wrongdoings, the way she gestured for Louis to slit his wrists while she sat in the audience of Good Morning UK or the way she would parade around with Harry smirking at Louis behind her gucci glasses. Despite it all, they would never know what sort of person she really was and that was sad, she deserved better.

Already fans leaked a video of her jumping off the roof and it went viral, although Twitter had removed it immediately flagging it as inappropriate and offensive, her jump into the abyss would always taint the world wide web. Dakota got her wish, she would never be forgotten and the fame she yearned for had been achieved but sadly, it was through her untimely death.

Crime scene investigators toting their full body suits with 'Crime Scene' emblazoned in reflective lettering across their backs. Some held cameras around their necks as they observed the scene, others stared intently from the scene to their notes as they scribbled every minute detail surrounding Dakota's body.

They immediately set up large, cloth barriers to keep prying media and onlookers from getting a glimpse of the dead girl. They silently surrounded the car snapping photos and collating evidence. She had died on impact, her eyes were glazed and staring blankly out at the city street, her messy brown hair surrounding her head like a halo.

A thin line of blood seeped from her open mouth, lips plump and pale with red lipstick smeared across her face. Bruises covered her pale skin, like watercolour paint that bled onto the paper. Her neck was broken rendering her head on an unnatural angle, her position was far from peaceful. Her crimson dress billowed off the edges of the broken, silver car. Broken glass littered the floor in sharp shards and a gun lay not far from her body. It had a yellow number next to it, evidence.

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