All Quiet On This End

The rest of the night passes by slowly. You check on Daisy several times, making sure she is alright. And, aside from the odd audible snore, she rests comfortably. Despite your career choice in late night entertainment, you still have your limits. And tonight, that limit came at 4 am.

Before finally succumbing to sleep, you leave two bottles of unopened water on your nightstand. You may not know what was given to Daisy but based on prior incidents, you do know that a common after affect is a severe hangover and dehydration.

So with that, you fall into a restless sleep on your couch.

You're awoken just a few short hours later by the bright sunshine beaming through your livingroom windows. What little hope you had that last night was a dream is quickly dashed by the closing of your bedroom door down the hall.

"Hello?" A quiet voice calls out.

You rise slowly so as not to scare her. "Hi." You greet once you've made eye contact.

Standing in the door frame, still wrapped up comfortably in your jacket, which is obviously too big for her, is a visibly scared Daisy Ridley. Even as rough of a night as she had, she is still quite beautiful.

"Who are you?" She asks tensely, gripping the jacket even tighter in nervousness.

"My name is William." You answer. "Do...do you remember last night?"

"Not really. I just remember seeing blurs and hearing loud music." She admits as she tries to see through the foggy haze of the night before. "Where am I?"

"Carpe Diem." You answer instinctively. She looks around before giving you a questioning look. "The building. It's Carpe Diem, the music club. I own it. This." You look around. "Is my apartment. Which takes up the top floor of the building. Please, have a seat. You must be feeling like....well....shit to be honest."

"You don't even know." She confirms as she tentatively accepts your hospitality and takes a seat on the edge of a chair. "What happened to me last night?"

Taking a moment to think of a way to tell her, you decide bluntness may be your best option. "We suspect you were ****."

"What?" She says, trying hard to remain calm but her fear is bubbling to the surface.

"It's okay." You try to assure her. "The waitress who was serving you recognized what had happened. She immediately notified security who notified our head manager who, in turn, notified me. We secured you away from the public while we figured out what to do. Your safety was our primary concern. And while having you here wasn't ideal, it was the best of a bad situation."

Daisy sits quietly, taking all of the information in.

"Look, Miss Ridley, I understand what you must going through...."

"Do you?" She interrupts, her British accent dripping in sarcasm. "Do you really? Because I don't think you have a fucking clue. I've awoken in some strange man's house, someone I've never seen before in my life. I have no recollection of last night and I've been told that I was ****. And to top it off, for all I know, you could have been the one who did this to me." She stares at you in understandable frustration.

You nod, knowing exactly what she's saying. Though her veiled accusation stings, you really don't know what she's going through.

"You're right." You admit. "You are absolutely right. I don't understand. To be honest, I couldn't even begin to comprehend what you must be feeling right now. But I want to help. I truly do. You tell me what you need and I'll make sure you have it immediately."

She looks directly in your eyes trying to determine how much she can really trust you.

"I need a phone." She finally says, her expression easing up ever so slightly.

"Done." You say as you dig your phone from your pocket and slide it across the coffee table towards her. "Anything else?"

"Privacy." She says somewhat coldly.

You silently oblige, standing and making your way out of the room. "I'll be in the kitchen."

In your admittedly over-the-top kitchen, you mindlessly begin your morning routine, trying to push last night from your thoughts. Unfortunately, you hear a constant reminder in the other room as Daisy makes her call. Even in a hushed tone, you can make out bits and pieces of her conversation.

"...I know, I know....We were just letting off steam.....They think I was ****....Carpe Diem.....The owner......I don't think so...."

Trying not to eavesdrop any further, you turn your stove on and begin prepping your daily breakfast: an egg white omelette with bits of ham, cheese and red peppers sprinkled throughout.

Daisy enters the kitchen slowly just as you plate your breakfast.

"Thanks." She says as she gently places your phone on the kitchen table across from you.

"No problem." You respond. "Do you need anything else? Breakfast? Something to drink?"

"I don't think so." She answers nervously. "I think...I think I'm just going to wait in the other room for my ride."

Without another word she leaves the kitchen. You think it's best to leave her be and eat your breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, a loud knock hits your door and without much of a good-bye, Daisy is whisked away by her people.

Meanwhile, you go about your business per usual.