𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛 | 𝐇. 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑

[ 11 ]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆. She cursed the minute she saw her hand vibrating violently and although she wanted to stop it desperately, it was uncontrollable. All she'd wanted was to come across confidently solid, but this was out of her hands. The news anchor couldn't even deny that she was indeed a control freak, fully aware that the minute something was out of her hands, her heart was racing rapidly as bleak possibilities filled her mind. She'd never been good at having faith in the ability of others, or perhaps their morals, even, but it seemed like her body was the one betraying her, this time.

You can only imagine the nightmares that she'd suffered from this situation alone.

She knew that this was necessary to stop the issue altogether, but that didn't make this any easier. Having only experienced competitive relationships with the women that worked at DBC, she'd taken all the necessary steps to come out on top, having been made to feel like there was only room for one woman on prime time television, one woman that should be grateful to be paid less than her male counterparts. In effect, she struggled to befriend other women, who'd been led to believe that she was the only barrier between them and ultimate success, but Ophelia Clancy had ultimately been exceptionally different.

From the minute Marilyn met her, she knew that the redhead was an angel of warmth, radiating positivity and confidence all at the same time. She was unaware of Ophelia's aspiration to embody her career, instead led to believe that she was content with her current position in an afternoon DBC slot, thanks to Jonathan's convincing words that 'making it on air as the second woman was enough'. It made her feel sick that she'd even believed him, her mind constantly reminding her that her friend was so much better, but the subject was never discussed, the envy never addressed, and the competition simply ignored.

That's why she didn't reach out when Ophelia left so suddenly, although she knew that it wasn't on her own accord as she'd been instructed to inform the world. That made her a bad person, she was sure of it. The atmosphere within the network had poisoned who she was, put her humble nature on a switch that only ignited when she was on air, and left her feeling sour and alone. She didn't know where she stood with Ophelia, particularly when she was no longer greeting her as they crossed over. She didn't know whether she was resented or pitied, but neither were ideal. She wanted to come across as strong, even though she didn't even know why she was here, just that she had to be.

Damn it, she should've brought some flowers or something. She felt like a stranger going to Ophelia's house for the first time. Ophelia's beautiful upstate home that proved the redhead was beyond DBC, not sacrificing to make it the focal point of her life. This was a woman with limits, who wasn't so desperate to get to where she wanted to be that she'd stop at nothing; Marilyn was. They were so different, and even though Marilyn was always the success story projected to every female that walked through DBC's doors, she realised that she wanted nothing more than to be in Ophelia's shoes, rather than her own.