Heart of Daisy

Chapter 1: A Heart Not Mine

The first thing Daisy hears is sound.

Not voices—not words—but sound.
A soft, rhythmic beeping.
A hum behind the walls, like something breathing.
Footsteps, muffled like they're underwater.

Then—pain.
Not sharp, but spreading. Deep. Dull. Relentless. The kind of pain that feels like it's trying to teach you something.

She opens her eyes.

The light is sterile, too bright, like the world has been bleached. It slices through the haze in her mind, blinding in its clarity. Everything feels wrong.
Her body feels wrong—stitched together from pieces that don't belong to her. Something inside her, has died.

She tries to sit up. Cant.

IVs tug at her skin. A monitor flickers beside her.
Her hand is cold, plastic clipped to her finger.
There's the rustle of fabric—someone shifting.
Then, a face.

A nurse.
Young. Tired.
Kind, but in a way that feels rehearsed.

"Daisy?" She says, like she's asking permission.
"Can you hear me?"

Daisy nods. Barely. Her throat feels like it's been sanded raw.

"You're at St. Joseph's," the nurse says, keeping her voice soft, as if the truth might break something.
"You were in an accident. You've been unconscious for four days now."

Daisy tries to speak, but nothing comes. Only air and silence. Her mind claws at something—anything—to hold on to.

But there's nothing.
No memory.
Just a black expanse where her life used to be.

Her pulse spikes. The monitor echoes her panic.

She looks down. Hospital gown. Bandages across her chest. Tubes. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills her nose like a warning. Her chest thuds beneath her palm—heavier than it should be. Slower.

"What....happened to me?" She rasps.

The nurse hesitates. Just for a moment. Long enough for Daisy to notice.

"You were in a car crash," she says carefully. "Try not to move too much, okay?"

But Daisy doesn't care about movement.
She cares about absence.
About what's not being said.

Her breath catches. "Where's Tony?"

Silence.

The nurse smiles—but it's the kind of smile that's been practiced in front of a mirror.

"For now, you should rest."

But that's not an answer.
Her chest rises too fast. The beeping grows louder. "Where is he?" She demands, voice cracking. "Is he okay?!"

The room tilts sideways. The walls feel too close. The nurses voice becomes a blur. Machines shriek in alarm.

Then—
Darkness again.
But this time, it's colder.

Laughter.

Music.

The gentle buzz of headlights on an open road.
Tony's car smells like peppermint and gasoline. The windows are cracked just enough to let the wind play with her hair. Daisy leans back in the passenger seat, eyes half-closed. She doesn't want to fall asleep, but this moment feels like a dream.

"Wait for it," Tony says, tapping the steering wheel in sync with the beat. "Right here—this is the part."

She smiles, already knowing.

The bass comes in like a heartbeat. Steady. Pulsing. Then synths, wide and luminous, as if the whole night sky has been poured into the speakers.
A voice—soft, warped, echoing:

'If you want me........if you need me....I'm yours'

Daisy grins to look at him. His profile lit by the dashboard glow. His hand inches toward hers, but doesn't quite touch.

For a moment, nothing hurts.
For a moment, they are the only two people in the world.
For a moment, forever seems possible.

Then the memory cracks.

A flicker. A distortion.
And it's gone.

   She wakes again.
This time, the room is dim.
The window shows no sun. Just the blue glow of a television left on in the next room.

She stares at the ceiling, then at the empty chair beside her.

No visitors. No father. No friends. No Tony.

  A painting on the wall shows a dog running into an open field, its joy eternal, frozen in brushstrokes.
Daisy feels nothing. Only the steady thump in her chest—too steady. Too strong. Like it's fighting for her to notice.

She touches her chest again. The scar beneath the bandages pulses.

Someone else's rhythm.
Someone else's heart.
Or at least that's what it feels like.

Something is missing.

And she's too afraid to ask ,what?