Revival Of Stars

3 | Daisy Decisions

CHAPTER 3
•••

One by one, yellow petals drifted to the floor, encircling Etta as she sat on the floor of her room, whispering manic words with a constrained expression.

"Go to the address," she whispered, plucking a petal from the daisy swiftly. "Don't go to the address." She plucked another. "Go to the address." Petals floated to the ground, painting the wooden floor with a harsh yellow.

By the oozing stench of flowers and the petal carpeting, Etta was evidently going crazy. After a week of mind-constraining thoughts and talking crazily to herself, she finally decided to resort to the best method of decisions: plucking petals like a little girl in love. Except she wasn't crazy in love; she was crazy. When she had decided to just ignore the written scar on her wrist after meeting the old lady, it began to slowly itch, then bleed, then burn. It seemed that the longer Etta ignored it, the more sore her wrist became—burning with every small touch.

But her mind reeled at the thought of venturing to the address engraved on her skin.

3rd House, Pleasant Valley.

Etta knew of Pleasant Valley and its intimidating aura; how the houses—no, mansions—stood amongst the green valley, barely skimming the sky. It oozed of rich allure and pristine reputations—the complete opposite of Etta Hope.

She resided in the cluster of buildings in Main Wispern, a common place, not special at all. And based on the thumping of the ceiling—due to the acrobats who lived above her—and the screaming of children below her, Etta knew that she wasn't all diamonds and galore. But it was enough with the money she made through her storytellings, the ones that she'd think of every night and craft in her mind, trying to recall the sweet words of her mother who spoke so diligently of the tales.

'Well, I shouldn't have told that tale so loud in the bar the other day,' Etta thought to herself begrudgingly. 'Then that old lady wouldn't have heard, and I wouldn't be in this mess.'

Finally, Etta was down to the last petal. She brought it towards her face and plucked the last petal of the daisy; she whispered: "Don't... go to the address."

Her eyebrows furrowed.

Silence.

Then, with a slight grimace and grunt, she dove for another daisy laying by her side and began plucking again.

In the midst of her frantic yanking on the poor daisy, she heard two taps on the door before a familiar voice muffled through: "Etta, it's us, Sierra and Sid. Open up."

In surprise, Etta hopped up and ran towards the door; with blatant gratefulness, she pulled it open and was met with the two siblings' faces.

Immediately, Sid pinched his nose together with a scorn, and concern colored Sierra's face—both upon seeing Etta and the colorful mess in her room.

"Ew," Sid complained. "It reeks of pollen."

Etta ignored the boy. "How'd you get up here?" she asked with a lop-sided smile on her face, looking quite hysterical.

With apprehension still lingering on her face, Sierra rested her hand on her hip. "Told the front desk boy I knew somebody here, and he let me through easily. Oh, and he was also cute, which helped with the flirting."

Etta's brows furrowed as she looked at Sid. "And he let you through, too?"

"Duh," Sid said before leaning his arm on the doorframe. "I'm cute, too, which also helped with the flirting."