AUGUST 23RD 7AM

“We are doing our everything in our power to find out who did this” the voice over the television speaks, Maura Glenfield listens attentively as she lines up cookies meticulously onto a plate.

She's been up since 5 AM preparing. When her daughter, Wendy was brought home last evening in the back of a police SUV, Maura was worried Wendy had gone and gotten herself into trouble that would cost her a fortune to get her out of.

When the Chief of police had exaplain to her what had happened her heart settled and relief washed over her— but only for a moment, after she got her daughter into the house and asked her to tell her all that had happened she hardly could contain her excitement. Finally, something interesting is happening in this godforsaken town! She thought.

She could barely sleep that night— she got up earlier than usual to prepare herself for the detectives. She craves the attention, no one else would give it to her— at least not in the way she likes. Everyone only ever treats her like she's a basket case. It's all their fault, she thinks.

After high school Maura had been branded— been one of Caper's social outcasts, never invited to all the fancy galas, the dinners, fundraisers, hell, they wouldn't even let her or Wendy attend her husbands funeral!

Wendy was only a child when it happened, so she doesn't remember them. She doesn't understand the pain, and she doesn't understand why she shouldn't associate herself with the people who tried so hard to ruin her mother's life, the ones who had been responsible for the death of her father. Maura grits her teeth joylessly .

Wendy doesn't get it, that's why she spends so much time with that retched Prescott girl. She doesn't listen to Maura as much as she should, which makes her afraid something bad might happen to Wendy like it did to her. If only Wendy would do as she's told.

“Do as you're told.”  His voice crept into her mind like mist.

That's what happens when you don't do as you're told. The intimidating memory fills her head— petrifying her. An unwelcome, haunting recollection begins to play like a film. It's as vivid as the day it had happened.

That's all it takes, the mere thought of him, of them— and she is propelled back to that day. Causing the world around her to fade and all sound and feeling along with it. Leaving nothing but numbness. The distant chatter of the TV news anchor is nothing but white noise.

The flashback unfolds and she is surrounded by them, they stand around her, tall and threatening. Like stone monuments, she sits in a small dingy, rusty metal chair with a cold towel over her face and a gag in her mouth.

Threatened by people she'd once trusted with her life. “We warned you this would happen, Maura,”

Her hands start to tremble and she loses her grip on the glass jar. It falls to the floor creating a loud shattering noise that echoes in the silence of the room. A peircing screech startles her back to earth and she is once again aware of her surroundings once again.

She glances over at the top of the stairs to where the sound originated from and she sees her daughter. Dressed in her uniform, she bares a striking resemblance to Maura when she was sixteen.

“Mom-” she starts.

“Christ, Maura. What are you doing?” A familiar voice asks.

She turns her head slowly towards him, “Oh, you're home,” she says in dismay.

“Maura?” He slowly steps towards her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine,” she waves her hand dismissively.

“You're crying,” she brings her hands to her cheek and is just then aware of her tears. “Is it them again?” He asks, stroking her cheek affectionately.

“No,” she says softly— leaning into his palm. “No,” she repeats, shaking her head. “It's simply news. It shocked me. Sorry, you must've been startled,”

“Uh, yes, I was,” he admits examining her with a worried expression.

“Don't look at me like that,” she scoffs, “I'm fine.” He stares at her solemnly. “I didn't know you'd be home today,”

“No?” He says, surprised. “What's all this then?”

“We're expecting company,” she says, proudly, “you should go get changed. I'll clean up. Wendy, you need to go, you'll be late.”

He looks over at the stairs at Wendy and they exchange a knowing look.

“Don't do that,” she scowls, “I said I'm fine,”

“Dear, have you taken your medication? You need some rest” he says.

“I don't need rest!” She snaps, slamming her hands on the table. The action makes them both flinch. They always do this, her internal voice chimes. She doesn't need rest, she needs a distraction.

Wendy makes her way towards her apprehensively, “Mom,” she starts as she approaches. When she's directly in front of her, she places her hands on either side of Maura's arms, and looks up at her. “You don't seem OK. Maybe Nick is right,” she grumbles as if admitting Nicholas might be right makes her physically ill. “You do need rest. How long have you been up?”

Maura sighs in exasperation and raises a hand— ready to run it through her hair, when her daughter Wendy flinches away from her as if to shield herself from impact.

Maura's heart sinks, her chest tightens with a suffocating sense of anguish. She feels like she's been punched in the gut. Her mind reels as she processes the unmistakable look of fear in her daughter's eyes. Shame and guilt was over her as a new wave of tears streams down her face. “How could you make her feel this way?” a voice whispers. “I'm sorry,” she sobs, pushing past her daughter and towards the stairs.

“Mom,” Wendy calls after her mother. “I— I'm not afraid of her. I love her.” She says out loud before she can stop herself.

“You can love someone and be afraid of them,” he says to her.

“Well, I'm not,” she replies, stubbornly. “What are you doing here anyway?” She snaps out.

“I live here,” he laughs lightly. She hates the sound of his laugh.

“Why?” she says and immediately grimaces at the idiocracy of her question. He tilts his head slightly, “Wendy, your mother and I will be married soon,” he smiles. “Well. . . You. . . You shouldn't!” She says as her cheeks flush in embarrassed at how whiny she sounds. Without allowing him a second to respond she immediately storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

***

She tears out of the house with her palms balled into fists— “I hate him,” she says to herself walking quickly to the bus station. “She was fine before she met him. I hate him,” Wendy is convinced her mother's mental health took a significant nose dive since Nicholas Pines moved in and that she'd been fine before. Granted fine regarding Maura Glenfield isn't the same as your average woman. Nonetheless, she'd been OK enough.

Now, she's more erratic, emotionally unstable and sometimes just angry. A type of anger Wendy doesn't appreciate being at the receiving end of. Her mother has never hit her, but her unpredictable bursts of vexation always scared her. She can't seem to figure out what she is more worried about; her mother hurting her or her mother hurting herself. With all her worry, she can't shake the eerie feeling that Nicholas is to blame for all of this. She doesn't trust him, neither does she trust those pills he keeps giving her. “Ugh, I hate him,” she shudders with disgust.

“Hate who?” A voice says beside her, startling her— making her jump.

“Adam, what are you doing here? I told you not to ever come here.” She says scanning the area around. If anyone sees them. . .

“I missed you,”

“You left me,” she says, through her teeth.

“You have to understand why, baby.” He says, flicking the cigarette from his finger onto the ground and crushing it with his feet. She should be repulsed by him, she wasn't raised to like men like him. Men around here don't act like that, so crass. Adam is originally from Boulder, people from there and different— rougher. Maybe that's why she's drawn to him. Perhaps he's her act of Caper-societal defiance.

“I don't want people to know about us, they'd try to separate us, you know that.” He says, running a hand through his hair— an action that Wendy has always found attractive.

“I don't care,” she starts, “You shouldn't have left like that. I was terrified,” she sniffs— not realising she had so much pent-up emotion over the whole debacle, everything happened so fast, she hasn't been able to process it all or talk about it, her mother had been more concerned about the gossip and gruesome details of the case than the mental state of her daughter.

Adam pulls her in for a hug, Wendy can smell the cannabis on him underneath his earth-scented aftershave. If she hugs him longer, she might smell like him, she thinks. Her stomach tightens with excitement.

“Let me drive you,” he says, the hum of his low tone voice makes her shudder, and she smiles against his chest. Her melancholic mood lifts.

“No,” she pulls away from him “I'm taking the bus,” she says, trying to hide her smile.

“My cars are just around the corner,” he smiles.

“I'm taking the bus,” she repeats, this time smiling playfully.

“You're going to make this difficult for me aren't you?” He asks— she smirks in response.

Lucas presses his foot on the accelerator and his car speeds up. He is driving well over the speed limit, he doesn't particularly care. It isn't like anyone is going to pull Lucas Prescott over and give him a ticket. He speeds past a girl he recognises as Wendy Glenfield, his sisters friend, getting into a car with a man who clearly has no business hanging around a minor. He scoffs and shakes his head indifferently.

He turns into Presidential Ave and frowns his eyebrows deep in thought— he thinks over how he is going to bring up the conversation with Daisy. Yesterday, Cole Forbes had told them Wesley Moretti was dead, the man who had assaulted Daisy. He should be happy about it— he is. . .however he can't seem to shake the feeling that Daisy might be involved in his death somehow. Why else would she ask him to be her alibi well before the news of his death broke out? It doesn't make any sense. He only needs her to clear things up and everything will be alright again.

Daisy hums as she skips down the carpeted stairs of her home with her hand to her ear trying her best to insert an earring. She halts when she realises the motion isn't helping and successfully inserts the sapphire earring.

She continues to hum merrily when she enters her living room. He is leaving today and his family has invited her over for brunch. Never mind it's 7 AM. Not the ideal time for brunch—she'd accepted the invitation all the same.

She couldn't refuse even if she wanted to, it would be an insult to his family. A family that someday she will be a part of. She isn't especially excited to see any of his family members, even though her and Luke have been dating since middle school, the fact that she's spent so much time at his house and has practically been raised in part by his parents. Being around his family had always felt so. . .odd. Daisy can't put her finger on why she feels anything but at home with them. Maybe it's because Mr. Prescott hits his wife, and they all act like it's normal. Or that Jamie is a little overbearing and clingy, possibly because she doesn't have any friends. Or perhaps its Queenie— who is always in a state of eerie contentment. As though none of her problems affect her. In some way, Daisy admires her, she is so well put together for someone whose home life is a mess. Daisy thinks her mother could learn a thing or two from Queenie.

Despite it all, she is eagerly awaiting the brunch. To seeing him, she smiles to herself. Their relationship has gotten significantly better since their talk at his mother's fundraiser— since she'd lied to him, she winces at the mental reminder.

In truth, she hadn't meant to lie to him, especially about something so serious. However, it needed to be done. He wouldn't have let her live it down otherwise.

It's a good thing he is leaving today. She wouldn't want it any other way. Nothing good will come from his staying here, he needs to be far from everything going on right now.

She considered leaving herself many times these past few days. It would be perfect. She and Luke in the same city. It's about time she found her own way and moved out. They'd be together, and it would be everything they've ever wanted.

Unfortunately, the state of affairs right now forced her to reconsider almost immediately.  It would've raised suspicions. Maybe once the dust settles, she'll go away with him once and for all. They could go to the same university and settle in a city like Weymouth when they graduate. She'd visited with her parents one summer. And it was one of her most memorably fun summers. She looks back on that summer fondly. It's one of the few times she hadn't had her episodes. It was perfect then, and it will be perfect soon, just not now.

Well, at any rate, everything will be fine in no time. Cole promised. She assured herself and opens her door ready to depart when the man standing directly in front of her startles her.

“Luke!” She yelps, “My god, you scared me.”

She feels familiar nervous knots in her stomach and an acidic taste in her mouth. Daisy hadn't asked him to pick her up, what is he doing here?

“Why did you ask me to lie about your whereabouts?” He blurts out as soon as her door opens.

“Hello to you too,” she says, with a perplexed expression. “Why did you ask me to lie?” He repeats, looking directly into her enchanting dark eyes. She scoffs as though he'd asked her something unthinkable, has he? He wonders guiltily.

“Because a man is dead, and I don't want to go to jail,” she says in a tone that makes him feel ridiculous for even asking. He continues to grill her regardless. “But you asked me to lie before you knew he was dead. Why did you do that?”

“Lucas” she says, and he grimaces. She only ever calls him by his full name when she's annoyed. He shouldn't have asked, he is ruining everything again. He should've just let things go. He rambles internally in regret. “I can't believe you'd ask me. After what happened, after what he did. Why would you think for one second I would want anyone to know! I told you this,” she chokes out, evidently overwhelmed.

He hangs his head. “I told you why. I explained to you it's because of how people treat women who have been assaulted that I didn't want anyone to know. I thought you understood this and yet here you are questioning me just like everyone else would if they found out. I can't believe you!” his breath catches when she breaks down in tears. The last thing he'd wanted was to make her cry. This is why you should believe women, he shames himself internally.

“Dais, my love,” he pleads, reaching out to calm her, but she pushes him away. Her rejection stings, making his vision blur with something he would rather not admit might be tears.

“I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking,” he apologises, desperate to make things right. “I was worried about you, and I see now that I messed up. You're right to be upset.” The memory of their near-breakup just days ago looms over him, threatening to destroy everything.

“I don't care if I'm right. Just leave. I don't want to see you,” Her words cut deep. The air vibrates with tension as he stares at her, wordlessly pleading. His heart races when she looks back at him with a solemn expression. This can't happen. She isn't actually breaking up with him, is she? Panic swiftly sets in with this realisation.

All he wanted was clarity, not to jeopardise their decade-long relationship. “Why is it always so easy for you to let me go,” he says, immediately regretting it when she gasps in disbelief.

“You need to leave,”

“Daisy,” he begs, but she shoves him away, her hands firm on his chest. He stumbles back, calling out in despair as she slams the door shut behind her.

Maura sits in the nook of her bedroom window in her three-story house on Presidential Ave, looking down at the street of her quiet neighbourhood. The cry session she had earlier drained her of all her strength and prior excitement.

Her fiancé had gone downstairs to clean her mess once she'd calmed down. She wonders how and why he tolerates, how someone could be so patient and kind. Even when she has shown countless times she isn't worth the fight.

She supposes it's love, the same unconditional love she has for her daughter— the same love she'd had for him, after his death— his murder she mentally corrects, part of her died with him. She did not think she could be able to love again, that was until she found out she was expecting, Wendy had filled her heart with a love she didn't think was imaginable.

Then he'd come along, years later, Nicholas Pines. Newly divorced, with two grown daughters of his own. In the beginning— she'd resisted him, loathed him, she'd thought he was exactly like them, hateful, psychotic and evil. But he'd proven otherwise, risking his social status by courting her. And she'd fallen for him.

Although she isn't sure if what she feels for him is love or appreciation for the comfort and companionship he'd brought into her life that Wendy couldn't. He holds her together, and he is nice to Wendy that's all that matters.

Maura is deep in thought when she notices a navy blue BMW storm by her window and pull into the driveway of the house next to the one directly across the street from hers. The house of Daisy Strong. Her heart leaps— finally, something interesting. The cloud of melancholy that was over her completely disappearing.

She watches as Lucas Prescott walks quickly out of his car and towards the front door where he just stands for what seems like a century when the door opens. The hauntingly beautiful Daisy emergers— she seems surprised by his presence.

She watches the interaction between the two with increasing interest and inclines her body forward, plastering her face against the glass window wishing she could read lips.

She fights the urge to go out to her front lawn and watch the interaction closer when it ends as quickly as it began, Daisy Strong shoves Lucas and slams her door in his face. The poor man is left standing there, looking pathetic. Maura wonders what he'd told her to get her that upset. She wonders if the couple has finally called it quits.

She shifts restlessly wishing she could've been be a fly on the wall. Her impulses get the better of her and she gets off her seat— picks up her phone and dials the number she'd memorised while she listened to the police press conference earlier.

She waits for an answer which takes only a minute. A minute that feels like hours for Maura, she considers hanging up when a voice answers on the other end.

“My name is Maura Glenfield and I have information on the Moretti case,” she says, biting her lip.