A raw ache pulsed behind Daisy's eyes, a constant throb since the anonymous package arrived. Her mother's faded image stared up from the scratched-out photo, a ghostly echo of a past she couldn't touch, couldn't understand. The faceless man beside her mother haunted Daisy more than Kai’s vacant coffin. It was a new kind of grief, one mixed with seething curiosity and a bitter sense of betrayal.
She tossed the photo onto her dresser, face down. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Not the well-meaning, wounded look in her father's eyes, not the worried texts from Nova. Especially not the polite, strained silence in the house, a testament to her stepmother's unwavering patience, which Daisy found infuriating.
Something had to give. A tremor ran through her, a familiar need for chaos, for noise, for anything that could drown out the quiet hum of her own unraveling thoughts. Tonight, the whispers would be screams.
Tonight, there was a high-society charity gala her stepmother was attending. Daisy had overheard the hushed phone calls, the detailed plans. A perfect target for her brand of disruption.
Sliding open her closet, Daisy bypassed the usual dark, edgy pieces. She wanted to be seen. To be a garish stain on their pristine canvas. Her fingers settled on a dress, a relic from a forgotten phase: electric blue taffeta, tight to the bust, ballooning out in a ridiculous, asymmetrical skirt. Glitter sprayed across the fabric caught the faint light. It was awful. It was perfect.
Matching it with knee-high patent leather boots, Daisy grinned at her reflection. A clown. A monster. Whatever she needed to be to feel something other than this hollow numbness.
Downstairs, the heavy scent of her stepmother’s expensive perfume still lingered. Daisy found a half-empty bottle of high-end scotch on the counter, left carelessly by her father. A quick, greedy gulp burned her throat, then another. The liquid fire spread, loosening the tight knots in her chest, sharpening her resolve.
She grabbed her keys, the heavy clink a counterpoint to the quiet house. The drive felt like a blur, the city lights streaking past her like accusations. Parking blocks away from the grand hall, she pulled a small flask from her bag, taking a long swig. Her vision blurred at the edges, but her purpose remained crystal clear.
Red carpet. Velvet ropes. Flashes of cameras. The air thrummed with polite chatter and the clinking of crystal. Daisy pushed past the velvet rope, her gaudy dress a neon sign in a sea of muted elegance. Heads turned. Whispers started, rustling through the crowd like dry leaves.
Her stepmother, Elaine, stood near a grand floral arrangement, her silk gown a subtle shade of amethyst, her smile poised. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, as Daisy sauntered closer.
“Darling Daisy! What a… surprise,” Elaine managed, her voice tight, a vein throbbing faintly at her temple. She recovered quickly, pulling a tight, social smile back into place. “You’re looking… vibrant.”
Daisy curtsied, a mockery of polite deference. “Vibrant? Why, thank you, Elaine. I just felt like adding a little… zest to the proceedings. All this beige was making me feel quite sleepy.”
A snort erupted from a nearby matron, quickly stifled. Elaine’s jaw tightened. “This is a very important event, Daisy. For charity.”
“Oh, I know.” Daisy plucked a canapé from a passing tray, eyeing the tiny, immaculate morsel with disdain. “All those poor, unfortunate souls. Don’t they know they’re missing out on such delightful finger foods?” She popped it into her mouth, chewing loudly. “Frankly, I think they’d prefer a good burger.”
Gasps rippled through the small knot of people around Elaine. Daisy savored their discomfort, the fleeting sense of power it gave her. She watched Elaine’s carefully constructed composure crack, a flicker of genuine hurt in her eyes. It twisted something in Daisy’s gut, a momentary pang, quickly smothered by the alcohol and her own self-loathing.
Moving through the crowd, Daisy greeted acquaintances with overly familiar hugs, spilled a splash of champagne (accidentally, or not) on a senator's shoe, and laughed too loudly at her own bad jokes. Each act was a small, sharp pinprick against the facade of the gala, a tiny victory in her self-appointed war.
“Daisy, what are you doing here?”
Turning, Daisy saw Nova and Chase, looking out of place but still impeccable in borrowed formal wear. Nova’s eyes were wide with a mix of concern and exasperation.
“Just enjoying the ambiance, darling,” Daisy slurred, gesturing wildly with her champagne flute. “Having a marvelous time. You should try it. It’s very… educational.”
Chase’s expression was unreadable, a familiar intensity in his gaze. “Some of us are trying to raise money for a good cause, Daisy.”
“Oh, good cause, bad cause, what’s the difference?” She shrugged, feeling the alcohol make her movements loose and clumsy. “It’s all just noise, isn’t it? Pretty dresses and pretty lies.”
“Look, a bunch of us are going to a basement party later,” Chase said, his voice dropping, ignoring her sarcasm. “It’s at Leo’s place. You and Nova should come. It’ll be less… beige.” A flicker of a smile played on his lips.
Nova looked at Daisy, her brow furrowed. “That sounds like fun, Daisy. We could just… leave this.”
Daisy shook her head, a sudden weariness washing over her, dissolving the high of rebellion. The gaudy dress felt heavy, ridiculous. The sarcastic remarks tasted bitter. “Can’t. My nana’s coming back tonight. Big family dinner. Very important.”
Nova frowned. “Your nana? I thought she wasn’t due back for another week.”
“Plans changed,” Daisy said, too quickly. The lie tasted like ash. She didn’t want to go to another party. She didn’t want to pretend. She didn’t want to be around anyone. She just wanted to disappear.
“Oh.” Nova exchanged a glance with Chase, a silent conversation passing between them. “Well, maybe some other time then.”
Chase’s eyes lingered on Daisy. “It’s okay, Daisy,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble. “You don’t always have to be… on.”
His understanding was a sharp jab. Daisy recoiled. She wasn’t healing. Not yet. She wasn’t even sure what healing looked like. “I have chemistry. Big test tomorrow. Gotta go.” The words tumbled out, another clumsy lie. She didn’t have chemistry tomorrow. She barely remembered what chemistry even was.
Turning abruptly, she weaved through the crowd, the smiles and polite nods feeling like daggers. She needed air. She needed out. The temporary satisfaction had evaporated, leaving behind a familiar, gnawing regret. She had hurt Elaine, had made a spectacle of herself, and for what? A moment of fleeting control that now felt like a desperate plea for attention. It was humiliating, pathetic.
Pushing through the heavy double doors, Daisy stumbled out into the cool night air. The city lights blurred into streaks of color, mirroring the chaos in her mind. She walked, not caring where, just away from the judging eyes, away from the clinking glasses, away from herself.
Hidden in the shadows, a figure watches Daisy with an unnerving intensity, their eyes gleaming with an ancient, predatory hunger.