The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Fifty Three

Lauren's P.O.V
Two weeks later

I'll get to go home today- or to whatever you'd call the brand-new looking White House residence. I guess it's not so bad, but I certainly prefer the vacation home and the mansion. When I look in the mirror, I finally see someone who is well rested- and God damnit I deserve it.

Meg's been held off for now- but there's no telling with her. It could be several more years before she suddenly decides to break the confidentiality agreement, regardless of the amount of money we paid her. I stayed mad at Kyle for a few days, but I just couldn't bring myself to be angry any longer. I've wasted way too much energy on anger in my life, and I wouldn't have been able to survive this month if I let myself be angry at the one person whose always been there for me no matter what. When I started getting my mind back, I gave Ryan the go ahead to release the press statement, and as predicted, the swarm outside of the hospital only got larger.

What I didn't expect- what I don't think anybody expected, was just how large it would get. Thousands of people gathered in support- a shift occurred in the news reporting, as they started focusing more on just how much the people cared about an individual who fought for every single one of them. It took me a long time to accept the fact that that many people actually cared about me, but a couple of months ago, when I finally did, I realized that I deserved it.

And I don't plan on stopping either, regardless of how long or how difficult recovery may be mentally and physically. The fight for equality around the world won't stop just because we're several steps ahead- or because one of the advocates had a traumatic week. Big whoop. I hope that- just like last time, I can use this in speeches as an example to why we still need to keep fighting.

As much as I hate to admit it, it's probably a fight that'll never be over. Even if ninety nine percent of the world's population moved over to a socially liberal viewpoint, there would still be stragglers falling behind. Countries that refuse to change as rapidly or as much as places like Ordaia.

In just two weeks, King Joseph has already made headlines. Once for holding the country's first press briefing in years, and another, just two days later- for decriminalizing homosexuality.

"You ready?" Kyle asks, standing in the doorway, waiting on me to finish up so he can help me walk out. The burns on the bottoms of my feet are almost completely healed, but stepping on the scar tissue still hurts, so I've been told to avoid walking as much as possible until they're fully healed.

Still- I'll be damned if I'm leaving this hospital in a wheelchair in front of thousands of people and cameras. Fuck that. I won't be speaking to anybody yet, but i refuse to show weakness in front of what'll be the entire population of the planet in just minutes. "Yeah- just, will you hand me my- thank you." He hands me my painkillers, and I pop one with water from the sink. Secret service stand by, waiting on me as I dial a number of the person I've relied on way too much for these types of things the last few years. "Kendra- can you come do your thing?"

"On my way." She says. Twenty minutes later, after she's had time to get her shit together and get through the secret service, she's let in. She's been working for us for so long that, by now- she knows what I want done before I even say it. She covers up the scars on my face, pulling my hair back into a uniform bun. I'm not worried so much about what I'm wearing- it covers the rest of the scars anyways. They may know some of what happened, but I'm not going to show anybody yet.

"The eagle and rover are on the move." I hear Ella say into her walkie talkie as we start heading for the exit, over a hundred secret service in and around the hospital. When we're outside, I'm stunned by the amount of people once again. None of the pictures or videos show the true size of the crowd. I snap out of it, the first person to get into the motorcade, Kyle beside me. For once, I'm grateful that the windows are tinted and nobody can see the look on my face when I finally take the weight off of my feet.

Kyle knows better by now than to try and talk me out of something, but he did still try earlier. A small part of me wishes I'd listened, because the aching form the pressure on my feet has decided to shoot up my legs now. I curse the painkillers for taking so long to kick in.

"Madam First Lady, we can provide injections to the site of pain that should provide immediate relief." The agent in the front passenger seat says.

"No." I shake my head. "No more. I'm not turning into my mother."

Today'll be the first time I've seen my sister in almost a month. She doesn't know how our mother died- neither does the public, and I hope it stays that way. Regardless of how much of a fucking bitch she was, my sister never saw her that way, and even though i stopped thinking of her as my actual mother years ago, that's exactly what she was to my sister.

After her father died, they started spending the night at the residence a lot more often. If we could have just had my sister staying with us, we would have, but they came as a package. They were always really close. As the motorcade nears the White House, I lean my head on Kyle's shoulder. It's moments like these, however rare they may be, that remind me of the second year we were dating. I'd started living with them and had just gotten my paid- internship. I'd graduated early and was applying to colleges, but Kyle was just finishing up high school as he campaigned and worked two jobs. After he was elected he finally got to quit those and get a little bit of a break, but started online college a few months later. I would say we stopped being able to get breaks around 19-20, during the mayoral campaign.

While in college, as part of my internship, I'd started working on real, low profile cases. He was constantly going, and probably didn't get more than five hours of sleep on a good day. It paid off though. Sort of.

  The motorcade enters through its designated gate, running over a small pothole in the the pavement. I grunt, a sharp pain shooting up my side. "Who the hell's in charge of maintenance?" I rub my hip.

  "Oh don't worry I'll be talking to him." Ella says.  I chuckle- I don't want somebody's job, but shit. A pothole in a White House driveway?

  It's a short walk to the elevator that leads to the residence and guest rooms's floor. This time, with the press not being present, I accept the wheelchair when offered. The residence has been rebuilt a few times throughout it's history, but now- it looks so new it's almost unnatural. Part of the hallway leading to it had to be rebuilt too. We pass an open door, and inside a little girl sits, reading while a social worker's trying to talk to her.

  "The prince's daughter." Kyle tells me. Curiously, I peek in. She looks like him, just with lighter skin and longer hair. I do feel bad for the children of the people involved. They may be too young to understand now, but when they grow up, they'll see news coverage and dateline specials on how much of a monster their father or mother was.

  That being said- I won't shed a single tear when I watch those fuckers die.