oh, anna [-hs]

doubt

60.

The first thing I notice when I get home is the daisy chains.

I don't know how anyone couldn't. They're everywhere. I don't know where Emma found all the beads to make so many.

They loop over furniture. Some strands lay in piles on the floor. Daisy chain after daisy chain. Some are green and white, others yellow and purple. They worry me. The strands feel frantic, like an attempt to regain control. I leave my suitcase by the front door and follow the trail of jewelry upstairs to her bedroom. Her door is open a crack. I knock on the wood and it glides open more, exposing the room.

She stirs in her bed, looking up at my silhouette in the doorframe. "Quinn," she mumbles, half asleep.

"Yeah," I whisper, afraid to disturb the thick silence. I venture in deeper and sit down at the edge of her bed. The blankets ruffle and the mattress creaks. She stares at my knee, and I lean in to run my hand through her hair. "I'm home."

She holds her face together as best as she can, trying to keep herself from crying. "Kate and I broke up," she seems to recall. I nod and pet her head. I had a feeling that's what happened.

"I'm sorry, Emma."

"She hit me."

My hand stops moving through her hair.

She can't look at my face, her eyes still glued to my knee. My heart is racing.

"What," my voice cracks at the word.

"We got into a fight last night and she hit me."

"Oh my God."

"So I kicked her out."

"Emma," I reach down and touch her chin, tilting it up so she'll look me in the eye. She does, but her lids begin to rim red. A few tears pool and leak down the side of her face. "Are you okay?"

She shakes her head against my hand and everything crumbles. A sob cracks the quiet in the room, violently rocking through her body. I lay down over her, stroking her hair and holding her as close to me as I can. She tucks her head into my neck and tries to regain control of her lungs.

"You are now. You're okay now." I murmur in her ear. My insides are on fire. I want to go punch Kate in her stupid fucking mouth. I want to kill that bitch. Everytime Emma sobs beneath me, it makes me want to punch Kate more.

This is all my fault.

I knew something was wrong. I knew she was upset, tense. I saw the signs. I should've trusted my gut. I should've made them break up. I should've known better. My jaw has hardened to stone, I'm clenching it so tightly.

No. No this is Kate, not me. I'm going to punch that bitch's teeth out.

I sit up and carry her with me. She wraps her arms around my waist and holds me tightly, looking for some sort of physical connection, reassurance, safety and comfort. I take a shaky breath and hug her back. I kiss her temple and rock her softly back and forth.

When she finally feels calm enough to talk again, she whispers, "I'm sorry about all the daisy chains."

"It's okay. They look good."

"I was trying to stay awake. I didn't want to fall asleep alone."

"I know. It's okay."

"And I was angry at myself."

I pull away to look at her face. Her eyes dart down her lap, unable to meet my gaze. I wipe some of the tears off her cheeks. Her lip trembles. "Why were you angry?"