felt her eyes shift out the window as Dr. Perkins tried to pry into her life.

Psychiatrists were all the same in that aspect, trying to peck away at the little pieces—the important details.

Daisy was sure Dr. Sen had asked questions in the beginning as the two were getting to know each other, she knew she should be patient with her new psychiatrist.

But Dr. Perkins just asked so many questions as he scanned over Daisy's file, and he didn't stop.

"Arizona." Dr. Perkins looked up. "You're from Arizona."

Dr. Perkins' words were somewhere between a question and a statement, and Daisy wasn't sure how to respond to him.

Arizona had just been Arizona. There wasn't a particular way to describe it, it was sort of just the middle ground.

Daisy preferred Washington. She liked the darker days, the gloomy and chilly afternoons. Arizona felt hot more often than not, and Daisy hadn't liked the warmth.

Daisy doesn't like warmth, Daisy thought, her mind trickling back to the blood on her hands.

For perhaps the tenth time in the last ten minutes, Daisy ignored the man's speaking. She kept her eyes cast out the window, watching the tiny cars pass by on the main road.

Daisy seemed zoned out, not particularly attentive to anything Dr. Perkins was saying. The psychiatrist snapped Daisy's file shut, placing the manila folder down on the desk in front of him.

"What did her blood feel like?"

Daisy looked over at the man in front of her, the features of her face scrunching up a bit. She felt a bit confused, not sure why the man would say something so blunt about such a touchy subject.

"What?"

"You haven't told anyone what it felt like, right? Because if you say that stuff out loud, it makes it seem more real, which isn't what you want. You want to ignore it, but you can't because then it'll just build up inside and never go away. I want to know, how did her blood feel?"

Daisy's mouth felt dry, the girl thickly swallowing. Her mind went to Calypso, the tiny girl that had been gone for almost two weeks now. It was still hard to wrap her head around the fact that Calypso was dead. It was hard to wrap her head around the fact that her death was permanent. She wasn't just at school, or just at her friend's house. Calypso wouldn't ever be coming home.

Dark liquid had seeped from the girl's skull, trickling down the pavement. Daisy remembered running over to Calypso and trying to stop the bleeding. She remembered the feeling of the blood flowing against her hand, a heavy bang bang bang as it wanted to spill out.

"Warm." Daisy spoke quietly, wetting her lips as her words came out. The girl let out a shaky exhale as more memories came back. "And...and heavy. I didn't know liquid could be heavy, but it weighed me down. It still does, I still feel it."

"You still feel her blood on your skin?" Dr. Perkins questioned, leaning forward slightly in his chair as he shifted his weight.

"It's something that doesn't go away. I mean...I scrub so hard in the shower that I leave these red marks all over my body. And at night, I...it crawls all over me, and I wake up in sweat and it freaks me out because I feel wet again like how I did with the blood, and I just...it all just makes me feel so..."

Daisy couldn't finish her thoughts, shutting her eyes tightly. Her thoughts pounded against her brain, pounded against the inside of her eyelids. Daisy felt her sister's blood always, and there was no way to get rid of it.

Even sitting in the cool air-conditioned room, skin slightly flushed, Daisy felt the heavy weight of crimson blood. The warmth of the fluid against her skin, seeping in as if to slowly strangle her.

"So the temperature, it's something that bothers you." Dr. Perkins mentally bookmarked the information for their next session. "How have you been dealing with life without her?"

Daisy bit hard on the inside of her lip as she thought. Her days were the same, sadness flooding in every hour in overwhelming amounts. Daisy couldn't ever really believe that Calypso was gone, she didn't like to believe it.

"I cry a lot." Daisy admitted quietly, fingers tapping rapidly against the arm of the chair. "I cry a lot when we eat dinner, 'cause her spot is empty and I remember she's not here. And Mark helps me feel better when I cry at dinner. He helps all the time when I get sad. But if I'm not crying, we just don't talk about it."

"You don't talk about it?"

Daisy merely shrugged, continuing to bite down on her lip. She knew not speaking about Calypso's death didn't sound like the healthiest coping mechanism. But all Daisy did was cry over Calypso. And when she wasn't crying, she wanted to spend her time distracting her brain. If Mark and Daisy ever actually talked about Calypso being gone, Daisy was positive she'd cry twenty-four hours a day.

There was a lump in Daisy's throat that threatened to advance as the girl thought of her sister. The emotion layered in her body begged for a release, begged for Daisy to cry and let it all out.

But Daisy didn't want to cry in a psychiatrist's office. She wanted to be home and let it all out where nobody else could see her.

Daisy bit her lip harder, trying her best to push back the lump in her throat and the stinging sensation behind her eyes.

Dr. Perkins continued to ask questions, but Daisy didn't have anymore energy to answer. She could only focus her eyes on the passing cars out the window, drumming her fingers rapidly as her thoughts ran full speed. They ran fast, faster than any car on that road. Daisy's thoughts were traveling at the speed of light, her brain on a constant loop of Calypso Calypso Calypso.

Even when Dr. Perkins dismissed her, it took Daisy a moment to actually stand to her feet. She felt stuck, as if she was a past point in time rather than a present human being.

Daisy hoped August wouldn't want to play chess today. Daisy just wasn't happy enough to play chess today.

She let her feet take her down to the next floor, the girl wandering into the familiar room of the pediatric wing that she had grown to love.

"Hi." August smiled, propped up in bed with his chessboard already completely laid out on his bedside table. "I'm just practicing. You can sit, if you want."

Daisy managed a tiny smile, moving across the room to take her seat beside August's bed. The boy looked to be in the middle of an intense game against himself, both black and white pieces spread out across the board.

"Do you want to play?"

Daisy slowly shook her head. "I just want to watch, if that's okay."

August nodded understandingly, moving his black rook to capture his white bishop. He spared a glance at the dark-haired girl, a frown seeming to have been drawn onto her face in permanent marker. "You seem sad today."

Daisy wanted to argue that she was always sad, but she didn't want to be such a downer. She didn't really have any energy to say anything more, so she kept her lips sealed as she watched August's hands move across the board.

"It's okay, if you don't want to talk about it." August spoke up when Daisy remained silent. "I think everyone's sort of sad for some reason today. There were three different kids sobbing outside my room earlier. And Dr. Robbins has been crying all morning."

"That last part's my sister's fault." Daisy explained quietly, knowing the blonde woman had been crying at the wake harder than just about anybody. "We had her funeral yesterday."

Silence filled the room as August stilled his hand, stopping his intense chess game against himself to look over at Daisy.

Daisy's eyes were stuck on August's chessboard, surveying over the tiny intricate squares that possessed alternating colors.

"I'm sorry, Daisy."

Daisy heard that phrase so often, especially yesterday. She wasn't quite sure why people felt the need to apologize for Calypso dying. They weren't the reason Caly was gone, they had nothing to apologize for.

It was Daisy's fault, it was always Daisy's fault.

The girl felt her tick start up as she sat there, her leg bouncing up and down and up and down, foot quietly tapping against the floor in a manner she couldn't control.

Daisy thought of yesterday, the somber mood filling the air as everybody that Daisy knew was infested with the color black.

Daisy wondered who in their right mind had picked black as the universal color for funerals. She thought it would be nice if there was a happier color, a brighter color—like yellow or pink. Calypso would've been all for a pink funeral.

The girl had worn a small black dress to Mom's funeral, of course. Dad's funeral too, even though immediately after she and her toddler sister were swooped away by a random woman named Octavia.

She had sat in the front row for both events, as she knew family was usually supposed to.

But Daisy had requested that Mark let her sit alone in the very back. Daisy couldn't function if she sat up front with all those people staring into the back of her head. Daisy couldn't function being so close to the casket, knowing that inside was a lifeless girl trapped in a box. Daisy couldn't function if she stood up there while all those people came over and gave her hugs and said I'm sorry, Daisy.

They weren't the reason Caly was gone, they had nothing to apologize for.

It was Daisy's fault, it was always Daisy's fault.

Daisy had sat alone by herself in the back row. She was sure the speech Mark had made was nice and all, but she hadn't been able to listen to it. Daisy sat in the back row, fidgeting as her fingers tapped and her leg bounced. She kept her eyes on the faraway casket the entire time—sort of like if she stared hard enough, Calypso would come out completely unscathed and she would run to hug her sister and it would have all been some horrible nightmare.

But it wasn't a nightmare, it was real life. Daisy could still so vividly recall watching her sister's casket lowered into the ground, an eerie silence settling over the small group standing there as Arizona's muffled cries cut through the quietness like a blade.

The Earth had completely embraced the girl, wrapping its arms around her and pulling her down. Daisy had watched the casket buried in the ground, slowly vanishing under the weight of pounds and pounds of dirt.

It was somber, and awful, and sad. It seriously did feel like an unescapable nightmare, and Daisy just couldn't wrap her head around the notion that she was watching a seven-year-old hiding down into the Earth like that.

And still, the only words Mark had been able to mumble out on the car ride home were I'm sorry, Daisy.

He wasn't the reason Caly was gone, he had nothing to apologize for.

It was Daisy's fault, it was always Daisy's fault.

"He beat me." August drew Daisy back to reality as he sighed out, his black pieces having checkmated the white queen. "Man, he's good."

Daisy thought August sounded a little silly talking about himself like that, and she couldn't help the tiny smile that slightly upturned the corners of her lips.

She noted how genuinely happy the boy looked, and she didn't quite understand it. Daisy was sure that if she was in his situation, she would cry everyday until it was her time to go.

"You're always happy." Daisy noted quietly, meeting the boy's gaze. She couldn't help the tiny frown on her face as she compared her own pessimism with the boy's optimistic attitude. "And I don't really get it."

"Not always, I have bad days." August explained as he reset the chessboard, pieces shuffling across the squares. "Sometimes I have days where my chest feels like it's gonna explode and my head feels like it's gonna fall off and I think this is it. So...you know, not always happy."

"But you seem happy for the most part."

"Because it never is it. I always wake up in the morning, and I feel better, and my name isn't in an obituary—so I think that's sort of a good thing." August smiled gently. "It's 'cause the doctors here are really good. I just don't really believe them anymore, 'cause they gave me six months to live, like...nine months ago, and I'm still kicking."

"You're still going just to prove them wrong." Daisy laughed quietly at the thought.

"Oh, definitely. I want to make it another six months just to piss them off."

Daisy let out another quiet laugh, not even realizing that she was laughing over such a somber topic.

August was going to die, and he was cracking jokes about it. Daisy wanted to be more like him, she wanted to have a more positive outlook and acceptance of the things in life that she couldn't control.

It was just so hard to accept the things she couldn't control. Daisy liked controlling the tiny details in her life, things she had no control over sent her into a nervous spiral.

"Do you want to play this time?" August offered, quickly changing the course of his question before Daisy could even open her mouth. "No, actually, I'm making you play, because I was going crazy playing by myself last time. Please play."

Daisy smiled, making the first move and pushing one of her tiny pawns a space forward.

August looked happy that Daisy was playing, already plotting out some huge logical strategy. His face began the familiar contorting in confusion, the boy seriously putting so much effort into simply which pawn to move first.

Daisy wanted to laugh at how complicated he was making this, but she frowned instead as her eyes scanned over his face. Because while he was sitting upright and cracking jokes and smiling, he still physically looked so weak, and Daisy was reminded again that her friend was dying.

It was a heavy thought, one that made Daisy's frown stick to her face like glue. Daisy didn't think death was quite so fair, she thought it was mean in that sense.

August pushed his pawn forward, looking as happy as ever as if cancer wasn't crawling along his body at a rapid pace. As if mutated cells weren't dividing and dividing and dividing out of control, building up an army to take complete command.

August pushed his pawn forward like he was a regular boy with a regular life expectancy, not seeming to be weighed down by death.

Death sat on Daisy's shoulders heavily as she reached a finger out, pushing another pawn forward.

• • • •

Dinner was silent, in the way that it always was.

Mark and Daisy sat in complete quietude, the shuffling of utensils the only thing that could be heard.

They had gone back to white dinner plates. The red ones made Daisy nervous, and she never wanted to see them again. She hoped they sat and collected dust in the back of the cupboard.

Daisy's eyes flitted over to Calypso's vacant spot, an empty white dinner plate sitting there with a napkin and fork beside it.

She had requested Mark still set a place for Calypso at the table, to make her feel better, and Mark didn't have the heart to deny Daisy. A plate and utensils were set out for the dead girl every night.

She never did join them for dinner, though. Caly always skipped, and Daisy was painfully aware of the absence of the girl's talking.

Daisy usually cried at dinner, because the silence of the meal was so heavy. Seeing the empty chair was so heavy. Picking up a fork was physically so heavy for Daisy, and she could never eat as she was sent into a sobbing fit.

Daisy felt a little bit better tonight. She felt like she might actually be able to stomach this meal, shakily picking up her fork.

Her eyes were still stuck on Caly's spot, though. The wooden chair longed for somebody to embrace it, and her dinner plate was so empty. The light reflected off the white ceramic, and the vast space bothered Daisy.

"Can we put food some food on her plate?" Daisy spoke up for the first time, Mark looking up from his plate. "It's just really empty, she doesn't have any food."

Mark's gaze fell over to Calypso's spot, and the man hesitated.

He didn't mind setting out a dinner plate to make Daisy feel better, but this felt too far. It felt sort of like encouraging a kid's imaginary friend. Mark thought it was bizarre to put food on a plate that would remain completely untouched.

Daisy noticed Mark's hesitation, and she spoke up again. "I know she's not gonna eat it, and she's not here. I promise I'm not crazy, I know she's not coming back. It just...would make me feel better."

Mark didn't ever have the heart to deny Daisy, so he slowly nodded. "Sure."

Daisy watched Mark reach over for Calypso's plate, scooping up a wad of spaghetti to place on the dish.

Daisy felt a small smile creep up on her. She liked the thought that Calypso had some food on her plate. She liked the thought that if the girl were to come home, there would be a hot plate of food waiting for her.

The girl was at ease as Mark placed a now full plate in front of Calypso's empty chair. She felt like now that Calypso had food, Daisy too could have food. She granted herself the permission to eat now that her sister was provided for.

Mark watched as Daisy put the fork to her lips, the first time in days that Daisy was actually eating her dinner instead of crying over it. He never wanted to say anything to set her off when she cried like that, he never wanted to upset her more. Daisy appeared to be relatively stable, and Mark cleared his throat.

"Arizona told me that you made a friend." Mark spoke up, Daisy looking up from her food. "She said she saw you on the pediatric floor with one of her patients."

"His name is August." Daisy couldn't help the slight smile. "He's very nice. He's teaching me how to play chess. And we talk about stuff and it's just...it's really fun, I like having somebody my age to talk to."

"Good, that's good. I'm happy for you." Mark nodded, not sure how to deliver the next part when Daisy was smiling like that. "But, uh...you can't be friends with him."

Daisy's smile immediately dropped, the girl's eyebrows furrowing. "What? Why not?"

Mark hesitated. He didn't want to be the bad guy, and he was sure Daisy would be angry with him for trying to tear her away from the first friend she'd made in a long time. He wasn't trying to be mean, he was just trying to protect her.

Daisy figured she knew what the problem was when Mark stayed quiet, and she couldn't help but let out a sigh. "It's because he's a boy, isn't it?"

"What? No, that doesn't matter." Mark frowned, and Daisy felt confused. She wasn't sure why he had a problem. "It's just...he's terminally ill."

"So?" Daisy asked, as if the fact wasn't a problem to her. "They gave him six months to live nine months ago. That makes him a miracle."

"It makes him a time bomb." Mark corrected Daisy's statement. "And he's going to blow up soon, and...I don't think you can handle that."

"You don't think I can handle that?" Daisy furrowed her eyebrows, growing a little agitated.

"No." Mark spoke without missing a beat. "You shouldn't have to, at least. You haven't even had time to grieve Calypso, I don't think you can handle adding another death on top of hers."

Daisy frowned, feeling upset. Daisy didn't ever make friends, and Mark knew that. Why wouldn't he just let her keep this one friend? She really liked August, he made her days seem a little less unbearable.