Coughing.

That's all she could remember from the past few hours of her nights' sleep. It happened every five minutes; not that she's counted. It's difficult to count the moments in a pitch black room when you're trying your best to relax. But even though she hadn't timed it, as seconds passed and the coughing didn't come, she knew that it wasn't smart to get comfortable in her soft, warm bed.

As though on cue, her body tightened as another cough ripped through her entire being once again, while she forced her eyes closed. The trouble was, when she allowed herself to cough, she couldn't stop coughing. She'd kill to fall asleep.

Sitting up, she immediately felt an explosion rising in her chest, and a burning feeling in her lower oesophagus. It would happen. Struggling, she fell straight into what sounded like an eighty-year-old smoker trying to blow up a balloon. The cracking and bellowing of the mucus in her throat continued until she had run out of breath to sustain it, allowing her to fall back onto the mockingly comfortable bed and run her nimble fingers through her dark locks.

One good thing about the most recent coughing fit she'd had, though, is that it had cleared her throat and chest of the scratchy feeling that usually brought up smaller coughing fits that could drive a sane man insane. Thankfully, when she laid her head back on her cold memory foam pillow again and prayed for sleep, it came over her. Not quickly, but it happened.

In the morning, Daisy was in no better condition after her 5-hour rest than she was before she'd attempted to close her eyes, and resented her 6 am alarm violently. The angry slam of her wrist definitely proved this.

And even if she hadn't had the coughing fits to prove to her pillows, lamps, and other room items she was not feeling her best, she also had the accompanying dark purple bags under her eyes. Her hair stood in ugly angles because of her dreadful sweating, sleeping position and a nose that ran with no signs of quitting its marathon.

Daisy supposed that her condition wouldn't really matter for the plans she had today, she wasn't planning to look absolutely dazzling anyway, but getting on the train looking like she was about to hand out a viral infection wasn't one of the ideal tasks on her list. So, she took 10 minutes to lather on her makeup as though it was the antidote to an awful life.

Gold eyeshadow decorated her eyes, not because she found it pretty, but because it was the only colour that seemed to cover her puffy eyelids. She tried a subtle flick of deep black eyeliner too, and immediately the subtlety was lost. Instead, a bold line ran across her eyelid. Getting rid of the line seemed impossible as her gold eyeshadow looked to move with every attempt, so she tried to replicate the look on her right eye.

With that done, and her green eyes looking large and exaggerated, she moved on to applying pale foundation. She knew it was too light for her and it gave her a more deathly look than she'd already had, but it was the only thing to cover her angry, red skin. Then she applied concealer and face powder- all of which she needed to cover her 'not slept or showered in over a month' look.

Finishing her sickly glam look, she dusted a fair amount of bronze powder onto her cheekbones and nose — well, anywhere that she knew shouldn't have been as pale as it was.

When she'd finished and was just staring at herself in the mirror, she noticed something off. She'd done all of her makeup, she'd brushed her hair and teeth, she wasn't wearing the tattered pyjamas with little pink clouds on it anymore, so what was wrong?

She'd forgotten the mascara. Shaking her head at herself, she picked up her old mascara wand. The poor thing was overused and past its expiration date, but she applied it as best she could, avoiding the shimmering eyeshadow on her eyes and the skin below.

All right. She'd finished. Nodding to herself in the mirror, she picked up her pre-packed bag and slipped on her scruffy-looking, but comfy, trainers. There was a minor hole in the toe section, but it had been sunny all week, and that was what socks were for.

No matter what anyone told her about her dear shoes, she knew that they weren't yet to be binned. Sure, they were worn in and the colour was an off-white that wasn't indistinguishable at all from the grey rubber rims, but she felt that it all added to their charm. 'They're comfy, and retro!' is what she'd often argued in their defence when her mother had begged her to buy some nice shoes, and she still believed that.

An unmistakable honk of a car threw her out of her shoe-induced memory and reminded her that her scheduled taxi had arrived, on time, and was waiting outside.

"Every minute we are waiting, it's £0.25 extra onto the charge." The woman on the phone had emphasized, and Daisy had reassured her she would be out immediately... because she couldn't afford to pay an extra 25p.

After opening the door and gazing out into the downpour of rain, she'd decided that getting into the taxi without ruining her whole orchestrated look was an impossible task: especially with the thick black lines painted on her eyes.

How was she going to get to the car? Pondering for a second on the doorstep of her flat, she decided to just run for it and hope for the best, it's not like she had any other options: no matter how many times her grandma told her to buy an umbrella, she forgot. After this, though, she would definitely invest in an umbrella.Slamming her home fire door shut, she covered her head with her plump back satchel (clearly filled to the brim with her overnight items) and ran towards the taxi, desperate to get in before she looked like a drowned rat.

Getting in the car with no problems other than her damp hair and soggy shoes, she shifted in her seat to get comfortable and to fasten her seat belt, cringing at the feel of her wet socks.

The car was relatively clean, or as clean as it could be with carting people around all day, and the male driver had a painfully bright smile for such a gloomy day, most likely hoping for a tip of some sort.

"Where am I takin' ya' darl'?" he questioned with an accent that Romey couldn't quite place, although she greatly recognized it.

"Euston train station, please." Her voice was gravelly from not speaking all morning -the unfortunate repercussion of living alone- yet she didn't care, it was the least of her problems currently, and the driver probably didn't care how she lived anyways.

Nodding, the driver tipped his hat, as though he was in an old movie, and pulled out of her flat's car park. With nothing else to be said they were station bound, with only one of them intended to get a good outcome. Unfortunately, Daisy knew it wouldn't be her.

//

"Next stop: Milbury Station!"

The woman's loud voice on the train's intercom broke through Daisy's dazed trance as she stared out of the window into the morphing greenery of the passing bushes and trees. The next stop was her's, which she couldn't have been happier about, maybe because she was exhausted, or sadder about the reason she had come here.

She hadn't been back to Milbury since she and her parents had moved to London 4 years ago, and to be honest, she didn't want to be back now either.

It's not as though Milbury was a bad place to live; if anything it was the best place she had ever lived, but she didn't want to spoil the memories she'd already had here with her family and friends with this unfortunate visit. She decided to stay here for the shortest amount of time necessary before returning home to the city.

Sighing, Daisy fully removed herself from her thoughts and sat up straight in her seat. She widened and rubbed her eyes, as though to make herself more awake and aware of her surroundings, glancing around the small train carriage. The cart itself was old and less spacious than the ones back in the city, but she thought they felt more homely and comfortable than the metallic and cagey modern ones anyway.

Today the train was oddly full, and there wasn't an empty seat in sight.

Scanning the small group of people that had recently got on and gathered at the entrance door of the train, she noticed an old woman, no younger than 70, was struggling to stand as she held onto her small wicker basket full of what seemed to be fruits and vegetables. Annoyed at all the younger passengers who had noticed the old lady struggle and did nothing, she called out to the nice looking woman.

"Excuse me, would you like to sit down?" Daisy smiled as warmly as she could, considering she looked sickly and motioned to the seat that she was sitting on. The lady smiled in return but shook her head.

"No thank you, dear. That's your seat, not mine." Her voice was gracious but her eyes shined with youth and defiance. Still, Daisy saw the woman's legs wobble with every bump the train made and decided to save the woman's pride.

"Honestly, I'm getting off at the next stop and I thought it'd be better to offer my seat to someone before I leave." Daisy insisted, raising herself off the seat and moved out of the woman's path.

"Well, all right, as long as it's because you are getting off. I wouldn't want to steal your seat." Romey smiled softly at the woman's comment and watched her walk proudly to the seat, head held high. The older female reminded her of her grandmother; she too had been a proud soul. As Daisy studied the other, she found more and more similarities between her and her grandmother. Perhaps it was the grief that had her comparing this stranger to her late relative, it hadn't been long at all since she'd passed. This trip had already brought up too many mournful feelings that Daisy had wished to ignore.

She knew she couldn't ignore it for long, though; she was very close to her grandmother and because she was the only child her parents were graced with, she knew she was bound to appear on her will. Unfortunately, she was called two days ago by her grandmother's solicitor and asked to return to Milbury to discuss what would happen to her belongings and home. Her mother and father should have really been asked, but they were currently abroad, living a fine life, attempting to get over the sudden death of a loved one.

Daisy wasn't too sure what she'd do with her grandmother's things, she hadn't really wanted to think about it until she had to, but she did know that she would give away whatever she could to charity. If it was no use to her, maybe it could be used by someone else.

The train pulled to a stop at Milbury station and Daisy sighed. This was it. She was back in her old town, as a completely new person.

She could only hope this would go well.  

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