Counting To Fifteen [Grey's Anatomy]

chapter forty nine - baseball gloves

Daisy remained silent as Dr. Perkins let his eyes wander over the piece of paper Daisy had written on.

The room carried a certain stillness as the psychiatrist read each bullet point Daisy had scrawled out with her pen.

Points of fear:
   • Bacteria
   • Sweat
• Blood
• Death
• People (Mr. Walter)
• Red dinner plates
   • Mark leaving
   • August dying
   • Never getting better

"Your list is...a bit heavy." Dr. Perkins commented, glancing up. "You have quite a few things that scare you in life."

Daisy didn't comment, fiddling with the hair tie on her wrist. She moved the elastic around and around, the motion the only thing keeping her attached to her surroundings.

"I understand the bacteria part, and the perspiration—a result of the OCD." Dr. Perkins glanced back up at Daisy, noting the girl already collecting the liquid on the palms of her hands. "Blood and death, because of your sister?"

Daisy moved the hair tie around, trying to think about the hair tie and only the hair tie. Thinking about Calypso was heavy and dark, and Daisy would much rather focus on twiddling a hair tie around her wrist again and again and again.

Dr. Perkins skipped over the Mr. Walter bit, not wanting to send Daisy into a nervous panic at the mention of the man's name. He instead moved onto the next bullet point, narrowing his eyes as he read.

"The rest of the list is a little murky to me." Dr. Perkins commented, looking up at Daisy. "You skip from dinnerware to abandonment to death. It's quite a jump."

Daisy stayed silent, her eyes stuck on the elastic band rotating her wrist in a constant motion. The girl could feel the subtle clamminess beginning to settle on her skin.

"I don't like that you keep it so warm in here." Daisy mumbled out, causing the man to frown. Daisy was trying her very hardest to avoid speaking aloud her fears. The things on that list were the scariest thoughts that popped into Daisy's brain, and she couldn't bear to acknowledge every little torment in her life.

But Dr. Perkins' entire job was to get people to acknowledge their trauma head on, and the man pressed ahead as he glanced down at the piece of paper for reference. "Why the dinner plates?"

Daisy frowned, her head feeling cloudy as she continued the constant rotation of the hair tie. "Because of red."

Daisy's answer was vague, and the girl had no intention of elaborating any further. Red was a bad color, an ugly and hideous hue with a horribly negative connotation. Red was blood, blood was everywhere. Blood was on Daisy all the time, and blood was bad. Blood was such a bad thing, and red was such a bad color.

Dr. Perkins still wasn't quite clear on what Daisy meant, but he let his eyes trickle down the list further. "And then you wrote 'Mark leaving', which-"

"Isn't true." Daisy spoke up, blinking hard a couple times as her thoughts participated in a never-ending race in her head. "Because he wouldn't be leaving, because it's his apartment—that would be stupid. I would be the one casted out and sent away. I wasn't clear with that point. I'm usually always concise with my points, and that one was unclear—I should've read over it again. I should've written Daisy leaving. Or me leaving, I guess, because talking in third person makes me sound so stupid and I...I..."

Daisy closed her eyes, trying her hardest to reframe her thoughts in the manner Dr. Sen had taught her. Her thoughts were spiraling out of control, far far far off the racetrack, and she desperately needed to get them back in the race before they were disqualified.