Beautiful Little Freaks

Chapter 1

Daisy

“Gatsby…”

“Daisy, you shouldn’t have followed me.” The boy I’d just spent last night with shook his head in pure agony as he stared from me to the body on the floor. He ran his hand through his shaggy, bright blond hair, tugging on it as he turned and paced. “Daisy, you shouldn’t have followed me,” he repeated.

I looked at the body of a strange woman, a knife firmly planted deep into her chest between her breasts. Crimson red slowly soaked her crisp, white blouse.

“I’m so confused.” My words came slowly. I stepped around the dead body and tried to go to Gatsby, but he stepped back, shaking his head. I stopped short, my heart shattering.

“You need to go.”

“Gatsby, please…” I pleaded, tears coming to my eyes fast and hot, streaming down my cheeks as my chest constricted with pain. This wasn’t happening.

Gatsby’s beautiful green eyes shone with his own tears not yet spilling. He kept shaking his head and backing away, as if I were… a disease.

“I told you not to follow me. Now…” His eyes flicked to the body on the floor. “Now everything is fucked up.”

What did that mean? I didn’t understand what was going on. Just a few hours ago, we were in bed, sharing the most intimate of things with each other. Our bodies entangled, our hearts bleeding together, our love overflowing.

What changed?

The scene in front of us was a stark contrast to what had taken place before. It felt so far off, I was unsure now if it had happened at all. Was it all a dream? I hoped it wasn’t. Because if that was a dream, then that made this real, and I couldn’t take the look Gatsby was giving me.

Please, make this a nightmare.

“Why did you come here?” I asked. “Who is she?” I motioned to the dead woman. She didn’t look familiar. Although with me being trapped in my Nona’s home for years, it wasn’t all that of a stretch for me to not know her. This giant house, however, told me she was someone important.

“Daisy,” Gatsby groaned. “This was all wrong. It went all wrong!”

“So explain to me what was supposed to be right?”

He opened and shut his mouth, swallowing.

“Daisy, you need to go. It’s about to get bad here, and you can’t be here when it does.”

Could it get any worse? There was a dead woman lying in the middle of an oversized dining room in the heart of a giant mansion.

“Who was she?” I asked again, my voice cracking. I looked at her face, her eyes wide open in shock. She was older, maybe thirty years old to my mere eighteen. She was pretty too, with shiny red hair, pale Caucasian skin, and striking features.

Everything that I wasn’t, essentially. Was this his…

“Did you love her?” I turned to Gatsby. Had I been betrayed? Had I fallen for this boy online, run off with him the moment I was a legal adult, given him my virginity, allowed him to…

I lifted my arm, the sleeve of his oversized T-shirt I’d taken this morning sliding down to reveal the tattoo he’d given me last night.

Beautiful Little Flirt

This weekend had been a myriad of permanent decisions I couldn’t take back. All of which, up until just now, I didn’t regret. But the expression in Gatsby’s eyes as he flicked from me to the dead woman shattered me in a way I’d never thought anything could.

“Love?” He stopped pacing to look at me. He hurried over, placing his large hands on my face, cupping me gently but firmly. “Daisy, the only person I’ve ever loved is you. Don’t, for one fucking minute, think otherwise.”

I tried to look away, but he lifted my face, forcing me to stare deep into his eyes. He was so handsome, so beautiful; everything about him was perfect. I’d never seen such a gorgeous face with the soul to match.

“I didn’t know her personally. I was—” He froze, releasing my face with a sigh as he tugged at his hair again. “Daisy, you have to go. You can’t be caught here when the police show up.”

“You can’t either.” I reached for his hand and tried to tug him toward me, but he dug his feet into the floor. “Come on, you’ll come with me to New York. I’ll wipe the knife down and no one will know what happened.”

He shook his head and pulled his hand away.

“I can’t. As great as that sounds… I can’t. I—” He huffed, as if his tongue was tied. Staring off for a long moment, his expression hardened and he looked at me with cold eyes. “Daisy, you need to go. I am going to be arrested. If you’re still here when they put the handcuffs on me, I’ll plead guilty at my trial.”

“Gatsby.” I shook my head in disbelief. He was going to purposely get arrested? Why was he already thinking about a trial? My chin trembled, and the tears returned. Why would he do this?

“Please, Daisy, stop asking questions. I can’t answer them. I just need you to get the fuck out of here. Leave now, before anyone sees you. If you leave now, I’ll fight at the trial. I’ll plead innocent and then fight to get back to you.”

Shaking my head and backing up, I tripped over the body. I stumbled, but caught myself on the large oak table. Gripping the edges, I looked around. This was a nightmare. None of this made any sense.

How had he even found this place? I’d followed him all the way from our hotel to this large mansion. He knew exactly where to go and how to get past the enormous wrought-iron gates. He’d walked in cautiously, but once inside he seemed confident in where he was going. I only knew a small fraction of the story, and I’d inserted myself right in the middle, screwing up whatever plans he’d had for the end of it.

“You can’t go to jail. You’re supposed to join the military.” I sniffled, wiped my cheeks, and continued, “That was the plan, remember? We were going to run away together, and then you were getting on the bus to join the Army, and I would go to New York for ballet school. And after your four years, you’d join me in New York. You’ll find a tattoo artist to apprentice under, and then eventually open up your own shop, and I’ll be a Prima Ballerina at a company, and we’ll live happily ever after. Gatsby, this was the plan!” I shouted, stomping my foot like a petulant child.

His sad eyes told me that this was never the plan. He’d deceived me. This… this dead woman in this fancy mansion-- that had been the plan. But why? Why get arrested on purpose? Why go to jail? Why not just come with me?

“Daisy, this is your last warning. If you don’t leave, I’ll let them fry me. This is a death penalty state. Leave.”

“And what? Forget you?” I cried. “Am I supposed to pretend I wasn’t here? Just go on, be the next Prima Ballerina, become famous, and forget everything? I can’t, Gatsby.” I collapsed, dropping to my knees, sobbing. I could never forget him. Until my last breath, his name would fill my lungs.

He sighed and returned to me, crouching beside me. He lifted my face again, holding my chin.

“No, I don’t want you to forget me,” he whispered. “I want the opposite, actually.” He urged me to stand and took me into his arms. I relished the feeling of his warm skin. I memorized his hard muscles, his scent, and everything else about him. I knew this would be the last touch we’d have. He moved just enough to press a kiss to my lips, allowing me to be the first one to pull away.

Wiping a tear away with his thumb, he stared into my brown eyes.

“Daisy, listen to me. I need you to leave. Go become the famous ballerina you are destined to be. I need to stay here. I don’t have much time, and I have stuff to do. I’ll come for you when I can.”

I shook my head. “How will you come for me if you’re arrested?”

“I can’t explain, but I will. Do you believe in the green light?”

“What?” I blinked. I didn’t understand him. Why were we talking about The Great Gatsby right now? My eyes shot to the body, then him again.

He repeated the question.

“Just… wait for me. Okay?” Gatsby’s green eyes suddenly flooded with a look of pure desperation. “Don’t forget me.”

I swallowed my fears.

I didn’t want to leave, but I had to. I knew he was right, in my heart of hearts. Gatsby had always known the right thing to do. He had a plan, and I had to trust him.

I did believe in the green light. In us.

I stepped out of his arms and walked to the door, pausing to turn back one last time before I left forever.

“Daisy?”

“Yes, Gatsby?”

“Don’t believe what the news is going to tell you about me.”