My other, shorter, university assignment.
A Day in the Life of
Some girls, you never forget. You know the kind: your greatest love, the one that broke your heart or changed your life forever. This girl was different. I met her and never saw her again. And she didn’t speak to me, didn’t even look my way, not once. But I’ll always remember her face.
It was a warm, sunny morning, and the back carriage, where I’d acquired a seat, was nearly empty. There had been no one that day who had caught my attention, and as the train ground to a screeching halt, I sighed impatiently. Would anyone of interest ever join this journey? That was when she stepped aboard.
The necklace. It was the daisy necklace I saw first, my eyes immediately drawn to the glimmering metal flower hanging from its silver chain. Then I looked up and saw her features, framed by endless waves of light brown hair. I was entranced by her. She was the one. My gaze never left her as I leaned back in the worn train seats and studied her intently. Her name, I decided, was Daisy — and oh, how it suited her. She was beautiful, but gently so. Her features were soft and delicate; her clothes light and airy, and she wore a thick, beige scarf around her slender neck.
Daisy sat down opposite me at the train table. My heart skittered, and for a moment, I thought she might look up at me. The scenario flashed through my head, and I allowed myself to slip into the daydream. She would glance up at me, notice me staring, and smile. ‘What is your name?’ she would ask, and I would tell her. ‘My name is Daisy,’ would be her reply. I would say that it fitted her perfectly. She would smile and call me a charmer, leaning forward and batting those…those…
It occurred to me that I didn’t know the colour of her eyes. Glancing back at her, I watched her for a moment while she stared out of the window. The light shone through the gaps in the trees as the train rattled on through the country, and lit up the colour of her irises so that they were plain to see. Hazel, and a pretty shade of hazel at that. As I was admiring them, though, I couldn’t help but notice the deep shadows under her eyes. As if on cue, she stifled a yawn, and then winced as the sun blazed through the window again. After a slight pause, she began to unwrap the scarf from around her neck, and I spotted her fingernails. They were broken and sore.
The scarf came loose and slipped off her neck. Almost immediately, she jumped and scrambled for the length of material, scooping it up and wrapping it back around her frantically. But while she didn’t pay any attention to me, I saw what she had momentarily forgotten: long, purple marks.
My mind was racing now. I flicked my gaze back towards her, but any trace of the angry blemishes were now gone. I took a few deep breaths. Perhaps I had just imagined it. After all, I didn’t get a clear view, did I? But in the process of convincing myself, I was unable to look at her. A strange sensation burned in my stomach, but I couldn’t place it. It begged me to watch her, to observe. ‘Look at her!’ my mind screamed. So I did.
Daisy was no longer there. There was someone in her place. It looked like Daisy, but it was not my Daisy. Her skin, which had seemed so perfect, had blotches of heavily applied makeup. It was meant to hide the purple blossoms that dotted her face, but instead enhanced them. The dainty nose was crooked, and that shapely mouth was marred by a half healed split in the middle of the bottom lip. The last thing I noticed, before I forced myself to turn away, was a tell-tale smear of blood on the hem of her shirt. It was a shadow of the girl who had first got on the train, stealing her from me and leaving a sad, broken form in her place.
I stared down at the grey, plastic table, my insides twisting. If I were to look again, she would catch my eye and look back…and she would know. She would know me, as I knew her.
A screech filled the air, and the train began to slow. The girl stood up, and my breathing began to steady. I was escaping her presence. She was releasing me.
The train stopped, and the doors opened with a mechanical clunk. A small band of people stepped off the train, while I continued to distract myself from watching her leave. I knew if I looked back, I would suffer.
“Claire! I’m so glad you’re home.”
My will broke, and I turned to the window. There she was, with another man. He held a bunch of flowers in one hand, an extravagant arrangement, while the other was clamped down tightly on her arm. I felt my heart tighten, just watching her with him. Daisy was dead. Claire, the girl I thought I had known, was all that was left.
The doors shut with a bang, making me jump. As the train began to flee from the station, I looked back to Claire one last time. I pressed myself against the window, my voice caught in my throat. My fingers dug into the glass as my heavy breath misted the window. The train began to pick up pace as the man led her towards a nearby car with a jerk. Trees started to obscure the view as they reached the vehicle, him opening the car door while maintain his hold on her. As he helped her in, the train reached a curve.