𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

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Daisy is running across campus, fast. Her legs are going faster than she could ever imagine, and she's sure her sneakers are going to set alight from the friction of the pavement below her. Hair billowing out behind her, she makes her way across the campus at lightning speed.


Her phone is ringing in her hand, and she knows exactly who the call is coming from. She's ignoring it, though, because it's a pointless alert. Her last class ran way overtime and now she's late for her appointment, and it's raining again, and she's already feeling shitty enough without everything piling on top of her.

 
Wet sneakers skid to a halt in the foyer of Reddin Medical, just in time to see the short, older woman standing with her arms crossed over her chest. The façade breaks soon enough, and Betsy smiles at her.

 
"Five minutes late, Daisy," Betsy clucks, gesturing for the girl to follow her down the corridor. "Not your worst, but certainly not on time."

"I'm allergic to on time," Daisy rebuts. Betsy laughs in agreement. "Sorry."


"Don't apologise, I needed to run to the bathroom anyways. So, how are you?" Betsy asks once they've gotten settled.

How is she? How is Daisy Cohen doing? That's a loaded question, because it totally depends on what day it is, what time of day it is, what second of the day it is... it varies. This morning, Daisy woke up with her limbs flailing so violently she thought she was going to fall off of her bunk. The nightmares have been getting worse since her brother's attempted phone call, and the daily phone calls she's been getting every morning since. The three weeks since the first have flown by, and Daisy mostly fills the hour-long session talking about how her game has been improving. She knows it's not the hard-hitting psychoanalysis Betsy probably had in mind, but the woman can tell Daisy is doing better just from the twice-a-week sessions they've been having. Neither will tell each other they need a moment to cry after the sessions; Daisy from reliving past traumas and remembering things she packed away long ago, and Betsy because she can't believe the depravity of humanity and what an older brother would put his baby sister through for years.

 
The hour flies by, and Daisy sets off at a run back towards the dormitories. They've got a game tonight, only a few hours bus ride away, but Daisy is already running late. Today has just been a day, and Daisy sure as hell can't wait to get on the court and forget about it all.

 
The Foxes have been training harder for the last few weeks. They all know what's happening soon, and they all know what will happen when the day finally comes. Tensions have been drawing tighter as their match against the Ravens nears, especially with Kevin. More times he knocks on the girls' door, more times he and Daisy walk laps around the campus or sit in his bunk and watch old games on his laptop. She knows what his life before the Foxes was like; she knows how his anxieties flare when he's left alone. Even Andrew can admit that she's a good distraction for Kevin, even if he hounds her at every second of every day.


Which he's decided to do right this minute, as he stands in the hallway awaiting her arrival.


"Margaret," he says, in that condescending tone she knows all too well. Daisy rolls her eyes.

 
"I know you're too high for me to get this through your thick skull, but my name is Daisy," she snaps. She's half a second away from sending her fist at his head, and he knows this.


"How was your visit with Bee?"

 
"Pleasant," she replies. "Can you move? I sort of have this game to get ready for."

𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞Where stories live. Discover now