𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞

𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

hey besties. before you read on, just wanted to give a heads up that this chapter has a big ol'
CONTENT WARNING
attached to it. lots of heavy shit involved, so pls be warned. be kind to yourselves xxx

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

          Daisy's phone is ringing.

          On an ordinary Monday morning, it wouldn't be a strange occurrence. Daisy gets a lot of calls from a lot of people; the girls, her teammates, group members for class projects and other friends she's made along her college journey. Most of them she ignores and flicks a text telling the caller she's busy. The ones she cares about know her schedule, and will phone accordingly or text otherwise.

          This caller is not one of those people.

          It's an unknown number, which is Daisy's first red flag. She's five minutes out from her first class of the day sitting on a bench outside her building with her fingers tapping on the cool metal either side of her. The silence of the campus in the morning soothes her; it's the only reason she tries to schedule her classes this early. A bird nearby sings it's song in a tree, and is promptly scared away by the obnoxious pop ringtone Dan set on Daisy's phone a few weeks ago.

          "Hi, who's speaking?" she asks when she answers the phone, expecting it to be a classmate with a question or a professor berating her.

          An automated woman's voice speaks instead. "This is a prepaid collect call from Brooklyn Metropolitan Detention Centre. This call is monitored and is subject to recording. To accept charges, press--"

          Daisy crushes the decline button on her phone, her finger pressing harder and harder into the device until she's sure the key is broken. It might have amused her, how little it takes for her day to go from 'okay' to 'devastating', had she been able to pull in a breath sufficient to get blood to her brain. Her grip on the edge of the bench is all it's taking for her not to slide down and curl into a ball on the floor. Her chest rises and falls too quickly to do anything for her. The blackness inside is spreading, seeping into her limbs and down into her fingers and toes. It swirls in her vision, crushing her lungs and squeezing her heart until she feels like she's going to choke on her own blood.

          "Hey," says a voice above her. Daisy looks up, trying to at least pretend she isn't having a panic attack in the middle of campus. It's the girl from her class, Anna-- or Hannah. Daisy isn't sure, and her brain sure as hell isn't about to remember right now. "Did you talk to Renee for me?"

          Daisy nods. All she manages to get out is, "she's not interested," and even that sounds shaky. The girl looks at her strangely.

          "Bummer," she says. "See you in class."

          It takes Daisy a good ten minutes to get herself to the point where she feels steady enough to walk. She leaves her phone on the bench, not wanting it anywhere near her right now. Hopefully, somebody will see a perfectly good phone and take it. Daisy can dream.

          The class would have been uneventful, like a lecture on architectural mathematics should be, had Daisy not been imagining all the different ways her brother could walk into the classroom right now. He could stroll in through the door and take the seat next to her, pretend he's a late student while he presses hard fingers into her thigh. He could burst in, wearing one of those old black and white convict outfits, screaming bloody murder and wielding a shiny weapon. He could meet her outside, take her by the hand because he knows she can't protest against him, and put her into a taxi and ship her back off to who knows where.