The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Sixty

Kyle's P.O.V

"Mr.President the Canadian Prime minister is here to see you." An intern knocks on the door. I almost want to hug him for pulling me away from the paperwork, even if it's just for a few minutes. I set the stack down, closing my eyes for a second. I look at the time- and it's nearly 2 am. Fuck me I need to go to bed.

"Okay-" I sigh. "Send him in."

He opens the door, revealing the prime minister standing behind him. Minister Garland's young- early thirties I think, but right now he looks like he could be fifty. He looks like he's been crying for weeks without stopping. His eyes are bright red, cheeks tear stained- and the dark circles are the worst his have her been. I can't say that I look any better.

If I weren't, you know- the president, I'd strangle the prince myself. That picture still haunts every dream I have even though I'd never met the boy. A decapitated head is bad enough, but I can't imagine how it would feel if it was my son- one who hadn't even had enough time to live yet. There's a part of me that wishes they'd just killed him instead of torturing and decapitating, because fuck.

"Minister garland-" I say, helping him to one of the couches. "How are you doing?"

"Well... I'm alive unfortunately. Can't say the same for Amber ."

I've never been good at this, but I still try. "You can't think like that." I shake my head. "You have to keep living."

"What's the point?" He sighs. "My son is dead."

"You still have a country to run. Millions of people that are watching their country's leader slowly slip away. There are people that care about-"

"My wife left." He interrupts. "Said that I look too much like him and she didn't want to be reminded of her dead child every time she woke up next to me. I'm just glad they never... showed her the pictures. She's already... sort of unstable."

"I would be too." I sit back. "What are your plans?"

He rests his face in his hands, eyes staring off into space. "I'm not exactly sure but... I can't do this for much longer. My government mandated grieving period'll be over next month. I... think I'm going to resign."

"Yeah-" I say, a mental image of Lauren's scars sticking in my brain. Thinking about it now, you can't arrest a sitting President. I might still punch the prince- can't decide. I glance over at at the stack of paperwork as big as my head, silently imagining shredding every single sheet. I can't even imagine what a full eight hours of sleep is like anymore- I've gotten to the point that I just don't remember what it's like to wake up without immediately having to go to work.

  "I'm probably resigning too."

——-

  As I close the door to my office, the time reads 3 am. Most people have gone home by now. The only ones still present are secret service and the insomniac interns who don't have work tomorrow. Those four almost never leave- as there's always something to do around here and they like to stay busy. They remind me of myself when I was younger; back then I didn't want a break. Now, I'd kill for one.

  "When was the last time you got a full night of sleep?" I ask the hippie intern whose cleaning the communications office baseboards'. She jumps, not thinking anybody else was in the room.

  "Could say the same thing for you, Mr.president." She stands up. "I'm used to it."

  "Ms. Quispe, you've worked-what? A thousand hours this year?"