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song: cry little sister by gerard mcmann
'PRETEND INFERIORITY, and encourage his arrogance.'
The Art of War.
The quote replayed in her head on a countless loop as she got ready for the dance, like a song. She heard herself saying it in a whisper, as if to provide herself with a bit of comfort. She remembered reading the book her junior year in Literature class, and thought it to be a pointless read, that would never apply to her life. And it concerned her that it now did.
Daisy covered up her dark circles and tired eyes with tedious amounts of concealer, and applied dark eyeshadow. As she wiped the blush across her cheeks, she felt herself flinching at the touch of the brush.
She sat the brush down on her vanity, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. As silence overcame her mind, and her room, the sound of her alarm clock ticking beside her bed came into her senses.
She opened her eyes and glanced at it, and then to the door as she heard the garage opening from downstairs. She stood from her chair, and took a glance in the mirror, examining her long, velvet, slim fitting violet dress.
She looked eighteen. Like a teenage girl about to go to the Valentine's formal with her boyfriend. But that wasn't what she was. She knew what she was, what she had become, and she hated herself.
Daisy ran her hands over her dress as she stared in the mirror, then she glanced to her desk. She walked to it, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors. She opened the drawer, and gently grabbed the handgun that she'd stolen from George's things.
It was small, and heavier than she thought. She held it up and examined it. Every time she had looked at it in the past few hours, she expected her mind to change, but it only made her more eager.
It was ironic that the one thing Kai showed her about herself was the one thing that would lead to his demise.
She opens the magazine of her gun by tapping it on her palm, checking to see it fully loaded with bullets. She closed it again. Daisy was grateful George brought her to the shooting range all those years ago. She cocked it, and pointed it at the mirror she stood in front of.
She wasn't scared, not anymore. There was a part of her that knew she would always end up this way, as much as she tried to hide this part of her down. The years of therapy didn't do anything but bottle up all of these emotions that she was too fragile to keep hidden.
