Prologue
Carter
Four Years Prior
I’ve only been at Blackthorn University for a few days, but I already have a flock of people surrounding me. Everyone wants to be my friend.
The girls want to be in my bed, and the guys want to get on my good side. Or I should say, my father’s good side. That’s the downside of having a father who runs this city, literally… he is the mayor. It’s hard to distinguish who is your real friend, most of them are good at being fake.
“What are you going to do tonight?” Carly asks, drawing me out of my thoughts. I’ve known her since middle school, her mom being my father’s assistant and all. That doesn’t mean she’s important to me or that she is any less fake than the rest of them.
I shrug, “Some party, I guess.”
Her eyes widen in shock at my answer, and for a moment, I don’t get why. I always go to parties, why is she so shocked about that? Then I realize she’s not looking at me at all. She’s looking past me, and at something off in the distance.
“Oh, my god, is that Crazy Daisy?”
As if my head is on a swivel, I look in the direction Carly is looking.
We’re sitting outside in the courtyard, hundreds of people surround us, but my eyes find hers in a single heartbeat. The color always reminded me of the sky on a clear day, such a beautiful pale blue. I could get lost in her eyes.
“Oh, god, what’s that weirdo doing here? I thought we’d finally gotten rid of her after high school,” Carly whines.
“I guess not…” I trail off as I watch Daisy trying to navigate through the crowd like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. She’s always been like that, her thin limbs uncoordinated, her walk awkward and her whole demeanor just… well, weird.
But the most unique feature about her has always been her eyes. Haunted, intriguing, and breathtakingly wild, almost feral.
She pushes her black-rimmed glasses up her small pixie-like nose and turns away from me, breaking the spell I didn’t even know I was under.
I could never figure her out, not in all the years I’ve known her, and I wonder if I’ll ever get the opportunity to do so, or if I lost that chance years ago.
1
Daisy
Present
Smoothing a hand down the front of my dress, I look in the mirror. I can barely recognize myself, the reflection not matching the image I’ve seen for the past twenty-two years of my life. The person before me is a put-together woman, with pretty features, perfectly styled hair, and professionally applied makeup. Gone are my glasses that were hiding most of my face because my dad wouldn’t let me wear contacts. Not until now, anyway.
I only started wearing makeup and styling my hair a few months ago, my father never allowed it before. Of course, no amount of blush and mascara could have hidden the crazy person I was back then.
As if it happened yesterday, I can still remember the exact moment when I realized what my father had been doing to me.
For the better part of my life, my mind was hazy, always filled with an overabundance of thoughts that I was unable to make sense of. I’d hear things and think things I shouldn’t. I was paranoid and unhinged. I’d never felt like I was going to fit in, and eventually, it started to feel like I was on the other side of the glass looking in.
That was my life until I graduated college. A few weeks after that, I started to feel different. I started to feel… sane. It was like a fog had been lifted after a lifetime of it being so thick, I could barely see my hand in front of my face.
For some reason, it all clicked together in my mind. My vitamins. My dad had made me take a vitamin every morning since I was a little girl. I had never questioned it. Who would? Your parents are supposed to care for you and give you the best life. Never once did I have the slightest idea of what he was really giving me, or that he was drugging me.
Drugging his own daughter.
I still haven’t figured out why he was doing it, and I’m even less sure as to why he suddenly stopped. Not that I’m complaining. All I know is that I will never let it happen again.
A loud knock at my door drags me from my thoughts.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” My father’s muffled voice filters through the closed door.
“Yes, Daddy,” I call out to him as always, with the sweetest voice I can muster. It’s become increasingly harder and harder to play my part every day in this fucked up charade. I act as the obedient daughter even though I know what he has done. Even though all I want to do is run far, far away. But I can’t.
Heading toward the door, I plaster a smile on my face and pull it open. My father is waiting on the other side, and I let my gaze drag over him. He’s wearing an expensive tuxedo, his hair is slicked back, he looks dashing.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he looks me up and down, examining me like I’m a thing rather than a woman. “The limousine is waiting whenever you’re ready.”
He turns, motioning me to follow him, but instead of falling into step beside him, I turn on my heels and speed walk down the hall toward the living room.
“I’ll be right there, I’m just telling Mom goodbye,” I call after him.
“Well, hurry, child,” he orders, and I automatically start walking faster. Having been conditioned to listen to my father’s every command, it’s a hard habit to break.
Entering the large room, my eyes fall on my mother, who is sitting on the leather rocking chair near the window. It’s where she always sits.
Facing the window, she looks outside, admiring the stars, maybe, but when I get closer, I can see the vacancy in her lifeless blue eyes. And I realize that she isn’t looking at anything at all. Her eyes, like always, are empty. No life, no joy or happiness.
Kneeling in front of her, I take her slender hand into my own.
“Hey, Momma. I’m leaving now, but I’ll be back in a few hours.” I talk to her like she is a child and not the other way around. She gets upset easily, and I don’t want her to have a breakdown because that would make it ten times harder than it already is for me to leave.
“Okay,” she answers, not even looking at me.
Her voice is flat, just like her eyes, which don’t hold a single drop of emotion. Sadness clings to me, along with anger that flows through my veins like molten lava.
“I love you, Mommy,” I whisper even knowing she won’t say it back.
She’s the only person I truly love, and the reason I’m still here and not a million miles away, hiding from my father. At the thought of leaving her here with my father, a shiver ripples down my spine.
I can’t leave her here, and I can’t take her with me either. It’s a bad combination. She gets so upset, and so quickly, anything out of the ordinary or off routine will set her off. I wouldn’t be able to make it out the door without her having a toddler-size meltdown.
As I suspected, she doesn’t answer and continues looking out the window and into the nothingness. Sighing, I move to stand and give her a fleeting kiss on the cheek. Sucking air into my lungs, I let the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo soothe me.