20. Every Picture Tells a Story

20

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

DAISY

ABOUT THREE YEARS AGO ― May 31st, 1972

"Mommy?" My voice is a pleading whisper as a faceless woman is pulled away from me by three uniformed prison guards. "Mommy!"

"I'm sorry, baby. I have to go…" She's yanked back before she and the guards dissolve into smoke, leaving me all alone and cold. When I look at my hands, they're tiny, barely the size of ping-pong balls, and my fingers are so short…

Baby hands, I realize. I'm a baby.

I'm just a baby…

And I'm all alone.

I weep and wail as I watch my tiny hands pull forward on the cold, concrete ground. I'm surrounded by prison cells, the metal bars a terrifying promise of danger. Hands reach out from between them, all trying to get me. Dark, sinister laughs follow.

"Daisy… Daisy… Daisy…" The prisoners chant in unison. "Daisy, the whore! Daisy, the slut!"

I try to speak, to stand up for myself. Tell them that I don't care what they think about me.

No sound comes out.

I blink, and suddenly I'm grown. My hands are normal size. My legs are my own again. Blood begins to flow through my veins and limbs. I can wiggle my toes. Green nail polish. Chapped. Ugly.

I force my body to get up off the floor, to stand on my own two feet, looking for the escape. Running through the long hallway, I pass more cells and hands that are trying to reach for me.

In the distance, I spot the escape. There's fog all around me and the exit looks like a dark abyss. Right when I'm close enough to pass through it, someone pops up in front of me in a leather chair, blocking me.

"Tell me , in your own words, why you are here, Daisy."

Dr. Beaumont.

He leans back casually in his seat as he assesses me, writing things on his notepad over and over. When I take a peek, I notice that there are so many words and scribbles about me that the paper has turned black.

That's how much there is wrong with me.

"Tell me, Daisy Burton. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me." He repeats it hauntingly, and the prisoners start chanting along with him.

"Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!" They sing with a mixture of scary male and female voices. They laugh at me, and I push my hands over my ears to stop the noise. "Tell me!"

I scream, but no sound comes out. I fall to my knees on the floor, and they start to bleed. "I don't know who I am," I let out on a whisper.

"Louder, Daisy," Dr. Beaumont orders me with his gruff, professional timbre.

"I don't know who I am," I repeat, my voice cracking as I manage to make myself more audible over the noises.

"Louder!" The word trembles through the entire prison, shaking the building and shutting up the patients. Cracks split through the walls, and concrete and dust rains down upon us.

Death is closing in. The end is coming nearer…

"I don't know who I am!" This time I scream so loud that Dr. Beaumont's chair blasts backward and crashes against the wall, opening the passageway to the exit.

He looks at me, satisfied. "Then go look. Find out who you are, Daisy. It might set you free…"

I swallow a mouth full of salty cum, opening wide to show the good doctor that everything is gone.

Three sessions. That's how long it took me to seduce him. It's fucking laughable.

He watches me with a pained expression. We both know that he is now completely, utterly fucked.

I grab his knee, giving it a light squeeze. Wiping my mouth with the back of my free hand, I smile, satisfied and smug. "When you have your weekly calls about my progress with my parents, you'll tell them that I'm doing great." I use his knee to pull myself up. "I suppose I don't have to tell you what happens if you don't."

I fix the low pigtails in my hair, tightening the elastic bands and brushing my fingers through the long strands. His fingers had a tight grip on my hair just a few minutes ago, and he ruined it.

"I'll tell my daddy," I confirm anyway. "Which means your fate would be sealed. You won't live to tell the tale."

He squeezes his eyes in defeat, rubbing a hand over his face.

A sinister chuckle leaves my throat. "Ah, don't look so defeated, Doc. You just got the best blowjob of your life. Lighten up a little."

"You're manipulative," he accuses in a gruffy voice.

I almost roll my eyes.

I know I'm manipulative, that's no news to me. It shouldn't be to him either, because I explicitly said that I was in our first session. He might as well throw his fancy degrees out the window for how easily I persuaded him.

I scoff. "Suck it up. You're a grownup and you should have known better." I sit back down on the sofa across from him.

I have him right where I want him now, and I'll definitely make use of this newly gained power. "You have ties to Crimson Manor, right?"

He grabs a tissue from the table and cleans himself up, before tucking his dick back behind his fly. "I've treated some patients from there years ago, yes."

"Can you get me my birthmother's file? I want to learn more about her."

After a few minutes of protests and the realization that he can't deny me this, he agrees to get me the files.

Dr. Beaumont takes out a file and hands it to me. My eyes scan over the text on the paper, lingering on the black and white photograph of a beautiful young woman's face. Her hair is dark, with curls that reach just past her shoulder. Big eyes stand out on her pale face, and there's a naughty smile on her luscious lips that makes her cheeks slightly puffy.

Frowning, I watch it more thoroughly. Why does she seem so familiar?

Shortly after, something clicks.

"Wait. I think I've seen this woman before," I let out on a confused whisper. Memories flood my mind, and they're vague at first. When I focus on the photograph yet again, I'm able to recall more. It's as if a movie plays out, the projector letting the pictures flash right before my eyes.

My ninth birthday party.

"Uncle Abe!" A loud squeak passes my lips as I get up from the floor and jump into his arms. "Thank you! This is the coolest thing ever!"

He chuckles, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "You're welcome, kiddo. We'll have a blast."

Mom and Dad sit across from us with Sabrina on their laps, and Uncle Stef is beside us on the sofa. There's a big, pink cake in the middle of the table, and I just blew out the candles before I started unwrapping my presents.

I sit on Uncle Abe's lap, unable to keep my eyes from scanning over the concert tickets in my hand. We're going to see Pillow Minds! I can't believe it!

"VIP tickets," Daddy says with a smile on his face, leaning forward to tap my uncle on the shoulder. "You went all out, huh?"

"This sweet little girl deserves it," he tells him kindly, and my eyes light up again as I meet his.

"Now, now," Uncle Stef buds in. "Can't have Abe stealing the spot of favorite uncle now, can we?" Leaning forward, he grabs a big box wrapped with polka dotted paper and green bows.

"And what does this memory have to do with your birthmother?" Dr. Beaumont asks, leaning back in his chair.

I let my body fall back on the chaise longue. "I think I met her there."

"Where? At the concert your uncle took you to?"

I nod, rubbing my fingers over my eyebrows, trying to numb the pounding headache. "Yes. But it's such a blur. I remember my uncle acting so weird."

"Let's take a tiny dive back in time. Tell me about the concert, from beginning to end. Perhaps you'll be able to recall more this way."

I sigh, letting my arms fall down beside me on the soft pillows before I close my eyes. "It was back in '66, I think. We had amazing seats, overlooking everything and everyone. I sang along to all the songs, and I felt like their biggest fan. It's one of my favorite memories with my uncle."

"And after the show? Did you say you had backstage passes?"

I nod. "Yeah. VIP tickets to meet the band."

"So, who do we have here?" Lake Bateman, the lead singer, asks as he squats down to the floor to match my height. He reaches for my hand and I take it.

"I'm Daisy," I tell him shyly.

"That's a pretty name. It's very nice to meet you, Daisy. Did you enjoy the show?"

I nod, my eyes wide with admiration. He chuckles as he gets back up, stepping aside to let the other band members say hi.

Jack Aguilar, the guitarist, bows his head to meet my eyes. "What a nice shirt you have on. I've always liked that picture."

Uncle Abe got it for me right before the show ― a white T-shirt with the band's faces on it. Jack winks at me and my face turns redder than a strawberry.

"You look very handsome," I dare to say, and I think I turn even redder.

"Oooh, look out, Cherry. Someone's going to steal your man!" Callum Carver, the drummer, calls out to someone behind him before he shakes my hand.

"How about a picture, darling?" Jim Byrne, the keyboardist, asks sweetly.

"Yes, please." I turn to Uncle Abel, because he has the camera, but his eyes are focused elsewhere.

On a woman standing behind the band.

She has blonde, curly hair, and she's wearing a top that exposes a lot of her chest and belly, with a short leather skirt with boots that go up to her knees.

"Excuse me." Uncle Abe clears his throat, taking a few steps to the side before leaving me with the band. I look at him with confusion, but the band pulls my focus back to them.

"Come on." Jim grabs my hand, leading me to a table that has posters and pictures of them all over it. "Pick one you like and we'll sign it for you. Would you like that?"

I giggle, my confusion completely forgotten. "Yes!" I look through the posters and settle on one I like, shooting a quick peek over my shoulder at Uncle Abe, who is watching me along with the woman. Their lips move and their expressions are serious.

I wonder how he knows her.

Once the whole band has signed my poster, the manager rolls it up and secures it with a rubber band before handing it to me. "Let's do the picture now, we have others waiting in line," the manager tells them strictly.

The place is crowded with lots of people walking around in the background carrying instruments, loading them inside a large truck. I walk back to Uncle Abe and grab his hand, pulling him toward us.

He takes the camera strap off his neck, ready to take our photo, but I shake my head. "I want you to be in the picture, Uncle Abe." I shoot a pleading look at the manager, and he luckily takes the camera so my uncle can stand beside us.

The band members have their arms around each other's shoulders, and Jack, who is on the side, invites Uncle Abe in by signaling his hand. My uncle accepts and goes to stand beside him, and I let the guitarist place me in front of them. His hand rests on my shoulder, and the manager says, "Cheese!"

I sit up, realization suddenly dawning on me. "I think she was a groupie. Uncle Abe talked to her for a while after, and I remember that they hugged. I was so preoccupied with looking at the polaroid that I don't remember much else."

The lady smiles at me, but she seems emotional. "I'm Cherry. It's so nice to meet you." A tear slips out of her eye, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand.

"I'm Daisy," I tell her, bending my head back a little to meet her face. "Are you sad?"

She wipes away another tear as she smiles. "No, honey. I'm just very happy to meet you."

"Holy shit. I think I met my mother." I shake my head in disbelief.

"Who was that lady, Uncle Abe?" I ask once we're walking back to the car, passing lots of cars and people in the parking lot.

He sighs, squeezing my hand softly. "That was an old girlfriend of mine."

"Oh." I look up at him, and he looks sad. "Why didn't you stay together?"

"That's a story for another time, kiddo."

"I never brought it up again," I tell Dr. Beaumont. "I wouldn't shut up about meeting the band for weeks, and I guess that I just suppressed the rest of that night."

"Maybe you could ask your uncle about her, now that you do remember."

"Yeah." I sigh, looking at the ground absentmindedly as I grab the hem of my T-shirt and pull it over my head. "I guess so."

From my peripheral, I watch Dr. Beaumont do the same. Little more words are exchanged before I climb on top of him and take a seat on his hard dick. My tits bounce in his face as I ride him hard, and he groans in satisfaction as he takes a nipple into his mouth. His fingers dig into my hips to push me further down, making me take him deeper.

I glance at the clock. "You better be quick about it, Doctor. Your next client will be here in ten minutes."

Another groan vibrates against my throat when he kisses me there, and I move my hand to my clit, rubbing it hard in order to make myself come.

By the time both of us are finished, I casually get off him and get dressed. I tie the green laces of my roller-skates before I give him one last glance over my shoulder. "See you next week, Doc."

"It's a lovely day today, isn't it?" Uncle Abe observes happily as he tips his head up to feel the warm sunshine on his face. We sit side by side on a bench at the dog park, watching the dogs play in the distance.

"It is," I answer, swinging my legs back and forth. My legs are always too short to meet the ground, and I can never just keep them still. "I would like to ask you about something."

"Oh?" He arches an eyebrow as he looks at me with his arms crossed. "What's that?"

"Remember that concert we went to for my ninth birthday?"

"Of course I do, kiddo. We had a blast." His voice is always so soft, so understanding and kind.

"We did. I remember there was a woman there. A woman you knew." I smile, looking at the dogs. "A groupie for the band. I think she called herself Cherry. I've found out that she's my birthmother. Annalise Poverly."

I take a polaroid photo out of my jean pocket and hold it in my lap, trailing my fingers over the glossy paper. It's the picture of us with the band, and if you look very closely, you can see her in the back.

His swallow is audible, as if it hurts to even think about. "You remind me so much of her. God, the way you talk so bluntly. How you're always such a little ball of sunshine who brings smiles to everyone's faces."

I smooth my thumbs over the picture absentmindedly. "I haven't done that for a while. It seems like all I'm able to do lately is make Mom and Dad sad or sick with worry."

"You're a teenager, kiddo. What kid doesn't at your age?"

My lower lip wobbles and my nose makes an audible sniffle. "I feel so lost, Uncle Abe. I don't know who I am or what to feel or what to do with myself. Everything is such a mess."

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. "You'll be fine. Even now that nothing seems to go right, every single person around you believes in you. We all know you're going to do amazing things. Years from now, you'll see what I'm talking about."

A tear slides down my cheek when he holds me tighter, planting a sweet kiss on the top of my head. I'm quiet as I force the other impending tears away and we just sit there in silence.

Eventually, I feel strong enough to ask, "What was she like? My mother. Did she have any talents?"

He chuckles as he brushes the tips of his fingers over my bare bicep. "Well, she sure had a talent for making my heart beat so fast that I feared it might explode."

I look up at his face. "So you loved her, huh?"

His dark skin glimmers, a few beads of sweat gathered above his eyebrows from the hot sun. "She was my first. For everything. The first woman who ever noticed me. My first kiss. My first time―" He clears his throat. "You know…"

An amused cackle leaves my throat. "Jeez, I'm not a little girl anymore, Uncle Abe. You can say the word ‘sex'."

He shifts uncomfortably and I laugh even harder, until he eventually goes on. "She was my first love. The time I spent in Crimson Manor was lonely―the first few years, at least. Then one day a little spitfire with curly cinnamon hair was thrown in there, and she talked to me. She was kind. Not everyone was, you know? There weren't a lot of colored peeps in there. She saw me as a friend, though. Nothing more. Then one day your dad showed up, and they…" He stops instantly, a mortified look on his face.

But it's too late. I'm quick to catch on.

I sit up, my eyes nearly bulging out of my head. "Holy shit. Dad was fucking my birthmother? Are you kidding me?"

He curses under his breath. "I am so sorry. I spoke too freely."

"Wow…" I trail off. It is a weird thing to think about. I can't even imagine Dad with anyone else. He only has eyes for Mom, never even glances at another woman.

After my shock settles, I urge him to continue. "So then what happened? Was she bored with my dad?"

"No. It wasn't like that at all. More the other way around. Your daddy found your momma's book, and he…"

I look up at him, rolling my eyes. "Don't worry. I know all about that. I found his letters in the attic. It's no secret to me that Dad is absolutely crazy for Mom."

He sighs, squeezing his arm around my shoulders. "He's never tried to hide that fact, has he?"

I huff an amused breath. "Nope. Sometimes they make me sick with how touchy-feely they are. But onto Annalise. Did she break your heart?"

"No." He shakes his head, then reconsiders. "Well, yes. But it wasn't her fault. I got out, and she didn't. I went to visit her almost every week afterward, until I couldn't anymore. When she attacked that guard and was put inside the maximum- security ward, she was no longer allowed to have visitors. Your parents told you, didn't they? That she escaped."

I nod my head. "Yeah, they did. But what happened to her after? How did she end up with Pillow Minds as a groupie?"

"All I know is that she had to run after she escaped. She could not stay in the same place for too long, because there would always be the risk of getting caught and put right back. I suppose being on the road with a band who travels all over the world was the best thing for her. The safest."

"Have you ever seen her after?" I ask, clutching onto his arm.

He hesitates before shaking his head, saying nothing.

"You never truly moved on," I state, my voice soft. "You never married. You never found someone else."

"I have everything I could ever need, kiddo. I have you and your parents. I have freedom. That's not something I ever thought was possible for me. I am happy. I am grateful."

He plants another kiss on my head, and we stay that way until it gets dark, as he recalls funny stories from the asylum. Most of them are about Annie and the trouble she made him get into.

He tells me that she gave me up in order for me to have a good life, no matter how much that hurt her.