Beautiful Little Fool

Re-creative writing of Daisy’s wedding night – in her PoV.

A bottle of Sauterne in one hand, a letter in the other exposing me to the torment of delayed fate and a chest that could feel the pressure of a thousand wedding rings. I gulp the alcohol as it incinerates the back of my throat, but I cannot deny the soothing comfort it brings to my heart as its cool essence grazes the side, nor can I deny the false tranquility it gives my mind.

You know it to be true. Tom will never love you like I can – I know about the marks he has engraved onto your body and in your mind. 

The flowers on my dress are gorgeous. They’re daisies! Vibrant, untainted and free. They’re also utterly false, meticulously crafted and sown into my night gown and as I stretch my arms up, they reveal more than just the black and blue bruise etched into my upper left thigh. Taking another swig, my eyes become cloudy and the world becomes hazy. Unfortunately for little old me, his words are clearer than the ten carat diamond decorating my left finger.

I will BE holding you in my arms soon, Daisy, just like I promised and you accepted. Remember another promise I made? I will love you even when you don’t see yourself as young and beautiful. I still uphold that vow and forever will. If you escape this dystopia, with me, we could be as gay as the moon when it takes a glimpse of the sun and basks in its rays. 

Oh Jay, ever the charmer and the man to cure me. As I laugh, Jordan barges in the room looking as startled and distraught as ever.

‘ ‘Gratulate me,’ I mutter. ‘Never had a drink before, but oh how I do enjoy it.’ It’s like a whole new Daisy; a daring, dauntless Daisy.

‘What’s the matter, Daisy?’ Nothing more than just a woman willing to leave her partner the night before her wedding.

God, this necklace is choking me.

‘Here, deares’.’ I grope the waste-basket on my bed – there if I am to spill the contents of my lightweight stomach – pull on the $350,000 bounding my ties to Mr Buchanan and watch as they sprinkle and tumble on the oak flooring. ‘Take ‘em downstairs and give ‘em back to whoever they belong to. Tell ‘em all Daisy’s change her mind. Say: Daisy’s change her mine!’

I couldn’t breath, even with the damned necklace gone. My cries echoed around the room and I think I scared Jordan away. What’s more important however is that I get to Jay. As I look down at my ticket to freedom, I don’t notice the soft shutting of the door signalling Jordan back in the room with Mother’s maid. Both of my arms suddenly feel a strong grip, not as strong as Tom’s, though enough to pull me into the bathroom and into a cold bath even with my hectic thrashing and screaming.

The letter! I squeeze it up into a small ball and tell Jordan to leave it in the soap-dish. It’s falling to pieces just like my plan. How am I going to escape now? I should not be disheartened, this isn’t how Jay would like me to be.

I am abruptly taken out of the bath. My body is still frozen as Jordan forces me to down some revolting urine smelling liquid whilst an ice pack is placed on my head. Liz dresses me and magically, the pearls are settling perfectly on my neck again.

Run away with me, Daisy. 

It’s too late.


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