𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖜𝖔

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The closer it gets to Thanksgiving, the worse Daisy feels.


Because it was that holiday, that time that's supposed to be spent with the ones you love the most, that Daisy found herself sprinting down an alleyway in Brownsville, NY, half-naked and covered in her own blood. That day that the police patrol the streets a little less, when nobody walks the avenues... hell, even the hookers avoid the street corners. Everybody is at home.


Everybody except Daisy, who passed out just as she fell through the doors of the 73rd Precinct.


And now, three years later, she starts awake with a jolt. The room is empty, light streams through the cracks in the metal blinds, and Daisy lets herself take a slow breath in through her nose, puffs it out through parted lips. Gently, she rolls her ankle to test for any sore spots after last night's game, and finds there is none. Her hip aches from here crash-landing on the linoleum floor, but that's to be expected.


They won. That's all that matters. The bruises on her side are a sign of victory, and cause her no more pause than the fingertip-shaped ones on her waist, or the deep purple marks that litter the sides of her breast.


Daisy crawls out of bed, slides herself into a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra, and pads into the kitchen. Nobody is around, but it's nearly midday on a Saturday and Daisy knows the girls like to spend their free time away from Fox Tower. Renee's electric tea kettle makes hot water quickly, and Daisy is on the couch with a mug of a cosy tea blend Renee's mom gifted her last Christmas.


Her phone lights up. :are u going 2 the court:, reads the message that appears under Kevin's contact.


:going soon: she replies. Sometimes she regrets throwing away her old phone, but then she remembers where she was at, and doesn't blame herself at all. In her head, that spike of fear she felt the first time her brother called. But Daisy pushes it away, swallows it down with another sip of tea.



:dnt bother. Cleaners r there >;( :


Daisy smiles a little at her phone, tucks it under her thigh and flicks on the television. Her head is screaming awful, awful things at her as she settles on last night's rerun of a reality TV show Dan was talking about. You're so lazy, get off the couch and go for a run. You're going to lose your scholarship if you don't get off your ass. Wymack made a mistake bringing you here, you're nothing but a poor kid with a drug dealer brother who's trauma isn't anything compared to--


The mug drops down onto the coffee table harder than Daisy intended it to, and her hands squeeze the sides of her temples as she stamps her feet into her sneakers. A quick run will clear her head, she's sure of it, and her hand barely reaches around the doorknob when there's a knock from the other side.


"Hey," says Kevin as he pushes past her into the room.


"Come on in," Daisy mutters. The door snaps shut behind her and she turns to stare at him. "You interrupted a jog, Kevin. You interrupted exercise."


"Running is a waste of time," says Kevin, expression completely flat. "You need to get changed."


She looks down at the old hoodie and hole-littered leggings adorning her body. "Why, is this too sexy for you? I could go wear a trash bag--"



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