#daisy3

You're in my veins, you fuck

The stains weren't easy to get rid off and Oliver had to paint it over, before his dad came back. The floor was sprinkled with blood and it had freaked Oliver out. How could it not? It was a freaking psycho way of writing a love letter and he was just confused by it to be honest. He first didn't see it as some sort of love message, it was just crazy to him. Written in her own blood. Oliver had known that Daisy was troubled, of course he had, the day he'd gone over to talk to her because there was something wrong with her and she had freaked out because he didn't want sex, he wanted to be there for her. He had known it all along and he feels bad that now he was the cause of this new insanity. She said he didn't care but he did. Deeply even. Oliver wanted Daisy to be alright, it had all started off with this friendship and apparently the hook up they had had changed things. He thought he'd been pretty clear when they did this, that this meant nothing but it was different for her and Oliver couldn't deny that he felt something for her too, he just couldn't figure it out.

She remembers the rain in the fields that surrounded her small childhood home, how it hit hard and fast without mercy and damaged all in it's way. It was nature and it was cruel. She remembers leaving the comfort of her bedroom and running to her father as he stepped through the door, soaked through to the bone. The see-through bag with the unknown liqueur hung loosely and dead from his hand. Sodden from the rain. Creased from the wind.

Her mother left her chair and also met the man at the door, pulling the bag away with nimble fingers. She pulled herself up onto her toes and leaned over her daughter, catching her husband's lips for a few seconds. Daisy can remember how the night finished uneventfully. Mum tucked her in tight, kissing her forehead and leaving the smell of roses and vanilla behind as she swept out the room past her husband. 

That was the last night she saw her father and smelt his poor perfume. 

The phone rang in an awful melody of different tunes. It started sharp and hard but slowly it became a beautiful lullaby. Daisy answered in a swift voice to her brother who had just woke her up from the marvelous memory. Her brother. She haven't spoken to him in a while. Their conversations were bound to hello and usually ended with someone getting annoyed at the other. What does he wants from her now? It must be something bad, or he wouldn't have called.

"Hey." she answered so lightly and smoothly with the benefit of the doubt. She shook her head while walking towards her bed, resting her head on her pillow and focusing on not losing her mind.

"Dad. He…He’s in Baberton." His words passed her like a lightning through her small, cold heart. She felt her hand weaken and her phone fell hard on her bed.

Daisy grow up to the realization that she would never see her father again. She hoped so. Dreamed, wished. Prayed it would never happen. Religion teaches you to love all your family, and she guess she's just a bad little person. She doesn't even pray anymore. But she prayed her father would never be back.

She picked up the phone with her shaking hand. Denying, lying. Of course she wasn't really surprised. She knew he was back and she knew they both are considered as dead. She knew it was her fault and she should just accept her faith right? She couldn't. Mum always said that one day they'll face him but mum had lied before. Austin said more than once that he's probably coming back but Austin was the reason it all happened in first place. Her father, Mark, he was back and... well she could always blame Austin. It worked before. She's just a poor sweet girl. People always blame the girl for the rape but Daisy has a way of talking. She was raped for crying out loud why's she the one who's suffering. She was raped. She was raped.