"She loved the stars in the sky, and he fell in love with the stars in her eyes."
Daisy thought that she could keep running from her past, but soon gets back involved with the Davenports.
Her life is forevermore not the same now. Secrets are revea...
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Daisy was focused on punching the punching bag, her gloved fists moving in a rhythm against the bag as each hit got harder.
She was lost in her thoughts, distant memories playing throughout her mind.
"Why? Why am I not good enough for a family?" A six year old Skye had asked Tara Barnes, the lady in charge at the orphanage she stayed at.
Tara knelt down, meeting the small brunette's height and placed her hands over her small shoulders in assurance. "You will find a family one day, Kid. Don't let anyone ever tell you that you're not good enough because you are."
Daisy's punches kept getting harder and harder on the bag as she continued to be lost in her memories.
Sixteen year old Skye stepped out of her van and then closed the van's back doors; The vehicle, her home, was parks inside of an alley next to a diner.
She had left the orphanage when she was twelve and had been living on the streets since then. Every foster home that she was placed in had either died, herself being sent back to the orphanage, or the homes just not working out in general.
Skye slightly jumped when she heard a male voice, saying, "Hey, you need any help? Are you okay?"
She looked over at the dark haired guy that was a year older than she was. He looked to be about a year older than herself.
"I'm, uh, good. Thanks." Skye began, moving her hands lightly over her hips as she now carefully watched the seventeen year old in front of her.
"Do you... Do you live in your van?" He also began, "Where's your family?"
"I don't have any family..." Skye reluctantly admitted, "So, it's just me."
"Well, I'm Donald Davenport, the next famous inventor." The seventeen year old replied, "What's yours? And, if you want, my mom won't mind giving you a home."
"I'm Skye." The sixteen year old let out, glancing over at her van before looking back at him. "Thanks. We'll see."
The punching bag suddenly ripped off its hook, crashing onto the floor while the sand of it spiraling out like a dam breaking and the water escaping out of it.
Her breaths heave her chest up and down, uneven yet not entirely; Sweat beaded her forehead and dripped down her spine and chest.
"You been doing that often?" Donald spoke up curiously from behind her.
Daisy looked over at him to see the man wearing a brown and silver cloak along with holding a blue fire staff in hand. "Why are you dressed like that, Donnie?"
