Black hair is pushed behind her ear, and she sighs inaudiably as it falls back to her face again. Every time she goes to write, it falls, standing in her way. For thirty minutes it's been like this, and no matter how many times she brushes it nothing changes. Daisy drops her flower-covered pencil lightly and watches as it rolls down the side of her desk.
In a few hours, it won't even be her desk anymore. The mere thought of it hurts her, knowing that she's not just being taken away from the one person that loves her, she's also losing her room. Eyes wandering, she takes a deep breath, the smell of lavender and candle wax something she never wants to forget. Her window is open, and a breeze carries in, the scent of pine and maple mixing in the air.
I don't want to leave. Mommy, can't you make them keep me here? Her thoughts are directed upwards, her face tiliting up, eyes closed. She gets no response.
Knowing that she won't get one hurts her, and she snatches up her pencil again, grip tight. Her face, so child-like and innocent, scrunches up as she thinks of words to write. To Mommy dearest, here we are, years apart, yet not far at all...
The words scratch against paper. A low, soft song plays, each scratch a tune, singing her a song. Her mother used to sing to her, and now she can hear it, each word so soft and sweet. Her tears amplify the noise, making it beat against her head. Finally, a sniffle joins the chorus of sounds.
It's all too much. She refuses to make anymore noise to drown the world senselessly in. For so long she'd kelt herself from adding to it, yet now she's sniffling again.
Stop crying, Daisy. Stop it. You're being too loud, she thinks. They, at least, aren't adding to the chaos she hears. You need to be quiet. Right now. You're causing a commotion. Someone will hear you. Don't make them hear you. You're stronger than that.
That's why she's writing. It's noise, but slow and quiet. Nothing that will hurt. Nothing too loud. How do I put these words into poetry? She bites the edge of her pencil, then slowly taps it against her table.
Slowly, she writes. Her words are soft, barely even seen as they appear on the page.
"Mommy Dearest,
Here's to you,
Words of Silver,
Words of Blue."
Daisy bites her lip, knowing that it's not enough. There's more words here, I know there are. Come on, Daisy, write, write...The pushing doesn't get her anywhere, but she does it anyways. With another sigh she presses pencil to paper.
"You left me here,
All by myself,
I got trapped.
You kept me safe,
Then let me go,
I miss that.
You were consistent,
You just fell out,
Now you're gone."
She pauses again. The memory of that night haunts her still, yet at the same time it's fading, each day a little more gone. The crash, the lights, the storm still pounding loud. Yelling fills her ears, the world beating down on her until she can't take it no more. Quiet! One thought, yet it's enough to dim them all. Smell a flower, blow out a birthday candle. Okay. Okay, breathing...good. Don't think, Daisy. Write. Write for Mommy.
"Five years ago,
So Grandma,
Kept me safe.
Then two years ago,
Yesterday,
They picked me up.
They broke my bones,
They shouted words,
They were loud."
They were loud. So simple, yet so true. She remembers their voices clearly, at times more than the voice of her mother. Daisy doesn't want to think about them, yet somehow they always pop back up. It was years ago, yet it could be yesterday for all she knows.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. She starts again, trying to finish with something, anything. Tears blur her vision until she blinks them out, not wanting to mess up the writing anymore than it is.
"You were not loud,
You just were drunk,
You shouldn't have died.
I'm sorry.
I wish it were them. They're just in jail. I love you, Mommy. This shouldn't have happened. Now everything is ruined. I'll never get you back, I can't stay with Grandma anymore, and the world makes too much noise. I'm drowning and I can't stop it. I need you, Mommy. I love you. Sorry my poem sucks. <3"
She blinks away her tears, looking down at her long, thin handwriting. Then she shakes her head, hating the way she can't even write poetry right anymore. In one fluid motion she crumples the paper, throwing it into her trashcan. The thud is loud, too loud.
It's the third poem she's thrown in there today. She's starting to wonder if it's useless. Before it happened, she used to write well. She even won a little reward for her poem about trees. Yet now, now when she needs her words the most...they escape her. Mom's dead, why would she care about a poem I wrote? They're not any good. All my good ideas never stay. All my words are useless.
Shut up!
This is too loud. Too loud. It needs to be quiet. Sh...quiet. Yes, quiet. Daisy tries to quell her thinking. Her forehead squishes together as she focuses, reaching for that peace she so longs for. Before she finds it the world gets louder again.
Her door creaks.
"Bear," her grandmother asks softly, "is everything okay?"
Daisy turns her head towards the open doorway, glad that her hair is covering her face. She nods quickly, wiping away all of the tears from her cheeks with the back of her left hand.
"Are you sure? I made some hot chocolate, come here, it'll make you feel better." There's a pause. "Bear?"
Daisy stands, walking to her grandmother quietly. Her feet hardly touch the floor, and within a second or two she's hugging her close, breathing in the smell of lavender soap and chlorine. "Come on then," she says. As her grandmother leads the way into the living room Daisy feels a hand petting her hair.
Her eyes close.
They open again in the kitchen where a strange man sits. Not just any strange man, the strange man. Her father. The guy who didn't exist until four months ago, showing back up when she just wanted the world to go away.
She never thought he'd look so...normal. Blonde hair, brown eyes, tan, American. It makes sense, her mother was always attracted to men like him. She was sixteen at the time and he was perfect. Daisy knows better though. She knows that two months after she was born he ran off to the Guard. She knows he broke up with her mother and left them to fend for themselves.
She knows she hates him.
"Brian, could you get Bear and I some hot chocolate?" Her grandmothers weak voice hurts her. All her life she's thought her grandmother to be strong, yet now she's sick and frail.
He stands up, smiling at both of them. "Of course, Cyndi. You like hot chocolate, Bear?"
She frowns, looking up to her grandmother.
Cyndi coughs uncomfortably, "Daisy doesn't like people who don't really know her calling her by that, Brian."
The look of confusion, followed by a pain of separation, is worth it to Daisy. He nods, lips tightly pressed together. "Of course. Hopefully that won't be for long. You know I love you, Daisy."
She turns away from him and takes her teddy bear out of her pocket. It's the size of her hands, almost as old as her, and the only thing she has left of her mother. The satin bear is the reason she got her nickname. Daisy takes it with her everywhere.
"Won't you say something to him?" Her grandmother pleads.
Daisy shakes her head, her lips held close but not tight. She doesn't want to look like him, not even in that tiny bit. She's tall like him, that's the only curse she wants to be stuck with. Anything else would be too much.
"Bear...okay, darling. You'll have to talk eventually. You're going to be living with him, after all." At that, Daisy bites her lip, tears welling up in her dark brown eyes. "I wish I could take care of you, I do. I'm just too old. I'm certain you'll come love love him, just as he loves you."
Brian sets two mugs of hot chocolate out. The lines around his eyes deepen as he talks, each word slow and measured. "You can visit your grandma anytime you'd like, Daisy. I'm not trying to take you away from her. I just want to protect you, Daisy."
She wishes she could scream at him, to tell him that he was never there for her. That her Mom protected her, and her Grandma did after that. That he's never done anything for her. Yet her throat gets sticky at the thought of talking, so she remains silent. Too many bass things happen when she yells, or even when she speaks.
So instead of talking, throwing a fit, instead of adding to something bad she just nods. Her fingers clinch together, feet shaking as she holds everything inside. They continue to talk, saying something about what it's going to be like, how she'll like the new place.
"Since it's a new school year, too, I think a new school would be great. You're already enrolled and we can show you around before school starts if you'd like." Brian drones on, his words flat and fake to her. He doesn't really care. He can't care. He doesn't know me.
Slowly, she pushes her lips together, keeping all her words to herself. Her thoughts jumble up, making it near impossible for her to hear them amidst all the noise, and for that she's thankful. One thought would be enough to make her explode.
Her grandma talks too, voice sweet and old. "Bear, you'll be able to come over after school and I can help you like I used to, if you'd like. Won't that be nice?" Even her words mean nothing. Words...
Silver words and silver plagues... The idea sweeps away before she has time to grasp it. In that moment, she falls. A tear slips down her face, a small intake of breath following it. In a flash she's out of her chair and running back into her room. Her feet are loud against the floor but she doesn't care anymore, she knows it's useless. What's the use of writing all these poems? They always disappear. I'm going to disappear, too, just like Mom. We're all going to disappear.
Her grandma and father stand to follow, but her door closes before they even get close. It doesn't slam, but the slight pressure it does give off makes her flinch. She slumps against the wall, crying without a single noise. Her tears fall to oblivion.
In her hands she takes her teddy bear, hugging it close. Then she starts to write again. Each letter is quick, letters larger than normal. She presses down as she writes, leaving little bits of graphite stuck on her fingers.
"Mommy dearest,
Here we are,
One is dead,
One not so far.
I miss you dearly,
I miss who you are,
I love you from afar.
The world is loud,
The world is gray;
It took you away.
Give me strength,
Please let me be okay,
I love you."
She crumples herself instead of the paper this time.