Identity [ON HIATUS]

14.Daisy Has No Choice

I stank of cigarettes.

I could feel the grease that came with the smell. I felt like I had aged and my lungs were withering away. I couldn't remember smoking last night, and surely breathing in second hand smoke indoors didn't make you feel like this.

When I was around Rose when she smoked, we were always outside, where I could reach a pocket of clean air if I wanted to. But inside Charlie's apartment, there was only the air he breathed, and I was just a visitor.

My thoughts wandered to memories of last night, of Charlie Merchant, my sister's older, bad boy boyfriend, who had fallen to the floor, fearing my presence. He'd cried, clutching his bottle of beer for dear life, almost rocking back and forth. But this morning, this morning he seemed to act like himself, not like I knew him, not like I knew anything other than what people had told me. Rose never really divulged to me; her and Charlie were her own private sanctuary, where nothing could penetrate it's high steel walls.

I'd decided not to tell him that he'd looked at me in a way that no one had ever looked at me before. He looked at me like I was the burning sun, like if he looked at me, his eyes would burn, but if he looked away, he would miss something spectacular. Charlie had reached out and pressed a hand against my hair, and I'd let him, just for a moment, before he'd dried his eyes and moved back to his room, where he slept for the entire night.

He must have looked at Rose that way every day, right after he'd say hello, and just before he'd say goodbye, like she was the most important thing in the world to him.

My stomach twisted painfully, as I shut the front door to my home behind me.

"Jesus, there you are Daisy!" Mom, clinging to the landline in her hand, rushed over to me. My father just stood up from the couch. "We've been in contact with the police! You haven't been answering your phone!"

I felt inside Rose's hoodie, and found one phone in each pocket. Rose's was dead, and mine had fifty missed calls.

I rubbed my eyes, smudging my dark make up even more. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Where've you been? Why do you smell like a God damn ashtray?"

"I...I don't know, I guess Rose never washed her hoodie, huh?" It was a poorly constructed lie which mom only half believed; it wasn't just the hoodie that smelt, everything smelt of cigarettes. Even my bones stunk of it.

"Go upstairs and shower right now. I need to call all the neighbours to stop looking for you. A few more hours and you would have been a missing persons." She pointed to the stairs, but before I put one foot in front of the other, she pulled me in a bear hug, letting the smoke smell seep into her clothes.

"Oh Daisy, I can't lose you too. Please don't do that again."

I nodded. I wouldn't.

-----

I didn't realise I'd walked straight into Rose's room until I stood there, surrounded by clothes and trash. I hadn't slept in my room for weeks, and enough was enough.

I stormed through our communal bathroom and into my spotless, yellow sunbeam of a bedroom. The curtains were drawn closed, and everything was still in place; my makeup in a neat row on my dresser, my bed made, my clothes folded neatly away.

It felt so sickly, like I couldn't relate to it anymore.

But no, I had to, this was me. I am Daisy.

I stripped off and jumped into the shower, scrubbing aggressively to wash out any cigarette smells, and the smell of Charlie's apartment.

Charlie, alone in his apartment, drinking himself silly every night.

No, he wasn't my problem, I was my problem.

I washed all my makeup off until my face was red raw, and where I could feel spots forming. No wonder I always had better skin than Rose.

I used almost the whole bottle of nail polish remover just to get the black stains out from under my nails, looking like I'd been digging through dirt. My nails were still slightly yellow from it, but I bet smoking didn't help them either.

I pulled on a cream sweater and dabbed at my damp hair with a towel, watching drops of water fall from strands and onto my white carpet. My feet, my knees, my skin hurt, like I'd be stretched to the limit, and I was buckling, drowning.

And then, a soft song began to play.

I looked over at my IPod, sat on my docking station that hadn't been touched for weeks, still switched off. The sound was coming from Rose's room, through our communal bathroom. It was gentle, quiet, with a hint of anticipation. I followed it, drawing me back into Rose's room once more where I felt, now that I was clean and wearing my own clothes, like a stranger.

"So, do you like him?"

Sat in her swivel chair at her desk, full of everything that wasn't homework, was Rose. Her legs, clad in fishnet tights, were crossed, as she checked herself in her desk mirror, stretching her eyelid to make sure her eyeliner was perfect. It felt like it was still drawn on me too.

"I'm sorry?"

"You'd never met him, and now you have. Do you like him? I'd always hoped you'd like him."

I rubbed my eyes, a headache forming. When I looked back to her, she'd moved to her bed; her knees facing the ceiling, one foot bobbing to the beat of the song she played.

"He's...messed up. I kinda guess like I am, now." It felt so normal, to talk to her, like nothing had ever changed. I sat on the edge of her bed, minding not to touch her, should the illusion shatter.

"I need you; I need you to help me look after him."

I shook my head. "I can't go back, you embarrassed me. He probably never wants to see me again, and I don't wanna see him." I blinked, and she'd moved once more. This time, she stood by her IPod, plugged into some old speakers. She cranked up the volume; the soft song changed to Sum 41.

"I'm sorry, Daze. But I don't think you have a choice."

Once again, thank you so much for reading! Love you all, and don't forget to vote if you liked it, I'll really appreciate it (and will probably look at your work too!) xxx