oh, mr president | H.S.

TWENTY SIX: Little Do You Know

"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are." - Theodore Roosevelt

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T W E N T Y S I X : Little Do You Know

Warning & Note: This chapter was inspired by the song, "Little Do You Know" by Alex and Sierra, and it will include triggering material. Please exit if you do not feel comfortable reading.

She watched him from afar. She watched him as he causally communicated with his subordinates. How he smiled, and all of suddenly, she felt the overwhelming sense of neglect. Harry did not want her anymore, and over the last month with Gregory, he probably secured the thought. Her nails dug into the wood, sinking as she saw how happy he was speaking with Jacquelyn. Obviously, she was in the wrongーshe knew thatーbut, why does it hurt so much?

        It's as if her heart was ripped out by a deadly assassin, and served front and center to all her enemies. The emptiness in her chest caused her to isolate, depress her emotions, and sit in the darkness of her room. She had cried so much that her tear glands ran dry; Ophelia was questioning her existence, her place in the hearts of the people she loved. Charlotte hadn't talked to her in four weeks, Tammy avoids herーbecause of guilt, and of course, Harry wouldn't even look at her when she stole glances at his events.

        No one cared about her anymore, and she had to accept that.

        Ophelia didn't bother to eat either. She had stayed in her room so much that her need to consume proteins and sugars fell slim to none. She was becoming hazardous to her well-being, and mental health. The reminders of her past inflicted on her every breathing second like bullets. They were shot through her skin, and the pain was almost bearable compared to how she was bullying herself constantly through self-hate.

        Gregory did not help. He added pounds on her already heavy scale with his passive comments. He made her feel low, and undesirable and as he promised, this was her hell. Gregory's hellfire that would burn on her metaphorical flesh for years upon years. Ophelia doesn't think she will ever been happy with herself for the rest of her short life.

        Because of her lack of energy from not eating, she called in a sick day to Liam. She didn't care if she was dying, and neither did anyone else.

        For the last week, she was planning her suicide. She thought how she could end her life, and if she would leave behind notes for her beloved ones. Ophelia often sat at her desk, tapping at her notepad to think of something she could say meaningfully, and leave an impact on their minds. She even made plans for her funeral, and how she wanted her favorite song to be played.

        Before today on a rather beautiful Saturday, she had finished Charlotte's letter, Tammy's, and each one for her parents. Angela's detailed letter described how much of the relationship Ophelia had with her affected her adulthood, and how much she would miss her. Charlotte took the longest; the pages continued to be written until she hit the magic number of six pages talking about their friendship and how stupid she was for not listening to her best friend.

        Harry's letter reached five pages, and most of her day on Tuesday, at work, was dedicated to writing her heart to him. She loved him, and she admitted it to herself through her failure. She was not sure if he could even love her, but none of that would matter after today. She'll be out of everyone's hair before they know it.