Dead daisies lay on the table. I look at my hands in shock, the very hands that had rendered my loving parents dead. I still remembered that day, all to clearly. i had been around 12, i was 15 now. I had given my mother and innocent hug and she had fallen to the ground, pale as the petals of the daisies now. This has been the first time my touch had killed something. i was in shock and confused, so i did what any child would do, scream. When my father heard me scream he ran into the room. when he saw my mother he went to take my hands saying,"what," he didn't get to finish before he to died.
At that moment is had an odd, but very clear, idea enter my head to wear gloves. so i did. it was only now that i had the courage to touch another living thing. Daisies, the flowers my father had given to my mother when he proposed. Flowers that had meant life to them when they were living, but now they were dead, and so we're the flowers. The thing is, I'd always wanted to be a doctor when i was younger to help people. Now i was killing them.
My heart is stricken with grief for everything i do. When i go to school on a hot summer day i wear thick leather gloves. Everyone says i should be over my grief by now. but how could I when they should still be here. So as the dead daisies payed on the table i began to cry.
