𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊

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"--parole conditions dictate that Jonathan Cohen may not contact you under any circumstances or through any means. He may not leave the State of New York for any purpose, and must check in with his parole officer every seven days to confirm his employment status and place of residence. He must turn over his cellular device and any other devices linked to the telephone line or internet to be checked for communications with yourself, or searches of any subject matter deemed inappropriate by the State. Jonathan Cohen may not associate with anybody on the list we have forwarded to you, which you can view at your pleasure. He may be in breach of parole should you reach out to him under any circumstance outside of contact through an attorney, which will be reviewed on a case-by-case basis. Jonathan has agreed to these terms, and will be in strict adherence to them as the conditions of his parole."


Daisy feels numb all over. Like she's been dunked into an ice bath, held under by her neck until she has no choice but to draw in a breath. The ice weighs her down, crystallising all over her insides until she's nothing but a dead weight sinking down, down, down with no chance of recovery.


The phone before her is on speaker, and nearly everybody important to her is surrounding her. The warmth of their bodies packed into the locker room does nothing to thaw her blood, thick and frozen and barely pumping through her veins. There is no racing of the heart, no sweat upon her brow, no tremors in her fingertips. Her stomach does not churn with bile and her eyes stare, unblinking and dry, at the phone. Abby's arms wrapped around her shoulders do nothing to comfort her, nor does Renee knelt on the floor at her knees and holding tight onto her hands. Daisy feels like she could drift away from this existence, slowly and calmly, and not feel ashamed about it at all.


"If there are any alterations to these circumstances, we will let you know. We worked hard with the State to come to these specific conditions, and we hope you find them satisfactory. Good day, Ms Cohen."


The lawyer hangs up and she stares as the dial tone sounds. Eventually, Allison leans forward and shuts off the phone.


"This is so fucked up," Dan says, finally, then repeats, "This is so fucked up. Don't they see how fucked up this is?"


"Danielle," Abby murmurs gently, and the girl stops, a sheepish look on her face. "Daisy, honey, can I get you anything? Some water?"


It takes Daisy a moment, but she shakes her head. "I think... can I just have a moment alone, please?"


Not until all of the girls have filtered out does Daisy let herself start to cry. The ice inside melts from the burning of her lungs, leaving only the tear path to drain the flood. The heaviness dissipates to a numb, emptiness that hollows her out, tries to suck all of her internal organs away with it too. There's a harsh tugging that makes her keel over, wrapping her arms around her knees and trying desperately to get any air inside. Bile rises, bubbles at the back of her throat, and in a desperate attempt to breathe she manages to suck it back down into her lungs. The choking mixes with the crying, and she rolls onto her side, arms tight around her legs, and sobs with her face pressed into the cushion. She's not sure if the aching pressure of her chest is coming from the pain inside, or the world pressing hard down on her from the outside.

𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞Where stories live. Discover now