Black hair is pushed behind her ear, and she sighs inaudiably as it falls back to her face again. Every time she goes to write, it falls, standing in her way. For thirty minutes it's been like this, and no matter how many times she brushes it nothing changes. Daisy drops her flower-covered pencil lightly and watches as it rolls down the side of her desk.
In a few hours, it won't even be her desk anymore. The mere thought of it hurts her, knowing that she's not just being taken away from the one person that loves her, she's also losing her room. Eyes wandering, she takes a deep breath, the smell of lavender and candle wax something she never wants to forget. Her window is open, and a breeze carries in, the scent of pine and maple mixing in the air.
I don't want to leave. Mommy, can't you make them keep me here? Her thoughts are directed upwards, her face tiliting up, eyes closed. She gets no response.
Knowing that she won't get one hurts her, and she snatches up her pencil again, grip tight. Her face, so child-like and innocent, scrunches up as she thinks of words to write. To Mommy dearest, here we are, years apart, yet not far at all...
The words scratch against paper. A low, soft song plays, each scratch a tune, singing her a song. Her mother used to sing to her, and now she can hear it, each word so soft and sweet. Her tears amplify the noise, making it beat against her head. Finally, a sniffle joins the chorus of sounds.
It's all too much. She refuses to make anymore noise to drown the world senselessly in. For so long she'd kelt herself from adding to it, yet now she's sniffling again.
Stop crying, Daisy. Stop it. You're being too loud, she thinks. They, at least, aren't adding to the chaos she hears. You need to be quiet. Right now. You're causing a commotion. Someone will hear you. Don't make them hear you. You're stronger than that.
That's why she's writing. It's noise, but slow and quiet. Nothing that will hurt. Nothing too loud. How do I put these words into poetry? She bites the edge of her pencil, then slowly taps it against her table.
Slowly, she writes. Her words are soft, barely even seen as they appear on the page.
Here's to you,
Words of Silver,
Words of Blue."
Daisy bites her lip, knowing that it's not enough. There's more words here, I know there are. Come on, Daisy, write, write...The pushing doesn't get her anywhere, but she does it anyways. With another sigh she presses pencil to paper.
"You left me here,
All by myself,
I got trapped.
You kept me safe,
Then let me go,
I miss that.
You were consistent,
You just fell out,
Now you're gone."
She pauses again. The memory of that night haunts her still, yet at the same time it's fading, each day a little more gone. The crash, the lights, the storm still pounding loud. Yelling fills her ears, the world beating down on her until she can't take it no more. Quiet! One thought, yet it's enough to dim them all. Smell a flower, blow out a birthday candle. Okay. Okay, breathing...good. Don't think, Daisy. Write. Write for Mommy.
"Five years ago,
Kept me safe.
Then two years ago,
They picked me up.
They broke my bones,
They shouted words,
They were loud."
They were loud. So simple, yet so true. She remembers their voices clearly, at times more than the voice of her mother. Daisy doesn't want to think about them, yet somehow they always pop back up. It was years ago, yet it could be yesterday for all she knows.
YOU ARE READING
Slit Satin *On Hold*Teen Fiction
"Silver Words with Silver Plagues and Silver Cuts to Rip the Page." Daisy Brown Daisy broke her arm, her leg, and fractured her jaw. It took a year to heal the physical wounds of the abduction. It's the mental ones she refuses to talk about. Daisy r...