Daisy is the soft-hearted mother of one with a dark past and an ex husband she's running from. She's spent the past six months building a new life for her and her daughter, Hope, trying to blend into the world around them. Her memories are tainted...
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I plonked myself down in the metal chair, my leg jiggling up and down like a drug addict needing their next fix. I couldn't sit still at all. Nate was beside me, squeezing my hand. I knew he was just as nervous for me, but he had a great way of not showing it.
A guy, around mid fifties, emerged into the waiting area from the cheap wooden door, and approached me. He wore a black and white checked shirt, a slim black tie, partnered with skinny black trousers. It was like looking at a person in the newspaper, did he not own one bit of colour? This place was daunting enough without the colleagues looking as miserable. He was clearly a detective though, or he would of been wearing the typical police officer uniform.
"Miss Daisy?" He inquired, holding his firm hand out for me to shake.
I gave him a shaky smile before nodding slowly.
"I'll be right here" Nate whispered in my ear, giving my trembling hands one last squeeze.
Initially, I struggled to lose his grip. My hand shook erratically, but I was too scared to leave him. The sweat poured out of me as soon as the detective gestured for me to follow him.
Could I really do this? Talk about everything Robert did. My past. My present. How terrified I was, and am.
A buzzing in my ears drained out all noise, alongside the dangerous thudding of my heart. It sent me into a spinning mess. I was on another planet, spinning round it's orbit with no clue what was happening.
"It's just this way, Miss" he smiled, opening the cheap wooden door for me. The same one he'd walked through just.
We entered a narrow hallway, the smell of cheap coffee and dusty files prominent in the air. It literally tickled its way through my nostrils and to the back of my throat where I started choking on the funny scent. Surely not all police stations had this aroma, right?
The clicking off his leather, black, loafers echoed, competing with the thudding of my heart. He worked swiftly. Moving from one place to the other within seconds, whereas I was still shifting my feet like a reluctant teenager on its way to maths class. I was also thankful my peach ballet flats were soft against the dirty wooden floor; they only made a shuffling noise because of the way I was walking. I'm sure if I picked my feet up like a normal person, you'd be gifted with silence.
"Anything you say will be recorded, and there will be another officer in shortly" he informed me, in a monotonous voice. "Just take a seat right there" he pointed his long fingers towards a small leather sofa perched opposite a wooden coffee table.
He busied himself round the room while we waited for the second officer. I recognised rooms like this from all the soap operas I watched. You also see a victim of some sort - like rape, or abuse - talking to somebody.
Just the thought of my life being compared to a soap opera made my stomach churn. I just wanted a normal life. No drama, no fear, just happiness for me, Hope and Nate.
