In a chillingly calm turn of events, Ophelia’s recovery from the brutality of Ralph’s public murder was coming along quite nicely. As she skillfully did with all her other emotions, the gang leader suppressed every doubtful feeling that dared flicker thoughts into her mind, not allowing it to get to her; at least not noticeably.
She continued to carry herself as though nothing had happened, but her brain..
Her mind was a constant stirring pot of guilts and fears and anxieties she’d never felt before, and frankly they concerned her. She didn’t like the hollow, sick feeling in her stomach or the heavy ache of guilt in her heart or the fact that everywhere she looked she saw Ralph’s bloody, mutilated face.
So she pushed him back.
Seemingly alone, the girl wandered the second floor, which was now accessible to the cluster of students. Available to them now was a gym and a pool, but all Ophelia saw was potential ways to die.
They could drown her, electrocute her, bash her head in with a weight...
No!
She shook her head fiercely, forcibly dispersing those worried thoughts from her cluttered brain. She couldn’t afford to be thinking like that.
On her way to the elevator she’d noticed a letter in Jason’s neat handwriting, inviting anyone to use his service as a therapist. She knew he wasn’t expecting her to come in; it probably didn’t take an ultimate councilor to recognize how the girl pushed things down, but a brief elevator ride later and she actually found herself at the library.
She went to open the door, but upon hearing two voices inside, she softly rested her hand against the door, before bringing her knuckle to it in three sharp knocks.
She continued to carry herself as though nothing had happened, but her brain..
Her mind was a constant stirring pot of guilts and fears and anxieties she’d never felt before, and frankly they concerned her. She didn’t like the hollow, sick feeling in her stomach or the heavy ache of guilt in her heart or the fact that everywhere she looked she saw Ralph’s bloody, mutilated face.
So she pushed him back.
Seemingly alone, the girl wandered the second floor, which was now accessible to the cluster of students. Available to them now was a gym and a pool, but all Ophelia saw was potential ways to die.
They could drown her, electrocute her, bash her head in with a weight...
No!
She shook her head fiercely, forcibly dispersing those worried thoughts from her cluttered brain. She couldn’t afford to be thinking like that.
On her way to the elevator she’d noticed a letter in Jason’s neat handwriting, inviting anyone to use his service as a therapist. She knew he wasn’t expecting her to come in; it probably didn’t take an ultimate councilor to recognize how the girl pushed things down, but a brief elevator ride later and she actually found herself at the library.
She went to open the door, but upon hearing two voices inside, she softly rested her hand against the door, before bringing her knuckle to it in three sharp knocks.
