The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Thirty Three

Jesus.Fucking.Christ.

At the sound of gunshots, thirty more secret service descend upon the room. When they notice the three dead bodies on the ground, and the agent standing about ten feet in front of me, they look like they're scared they're about to loose their jobs. "What...happened?"

"Aileen.... found out Kylie was the traitor and the first lady's mother stepped in front of the bullet." The surviving agent answers for me.

"Excuse me." I say.

I lock myself in an empty exam room. Christ- I'm going to need therapy after this shit. Aileen. My family. Her mother. Our child. They'd all still be alive if it weren't for me. How do I even begin to tell her that her mother got shot shielding me- or that the chief of  staff did it? That my head of security was in on it too?

  The public will know, by now, that something's up. They saw the presidential motorcade on the way to the hospital, and now, those pictures are going viral. Soon, with the amount of reporters watching the hospital like hawks from the tops of buildings a mile away, they'll see her medicopter arrive. The picture quality'll be extremely grainy, but they'll still be able to tell it's her.

  I won't have a choice then. I'll have to tell them something, otherwise conspiracy theorist will lose their damn minds, and the last thing she needs right now is to wake up and read those headlines. If she wakes up. It's a thought I don't want to face- one that's becoming more and more likely. I look in the mirror and I don't see myself anymore. I've gotten exactly seven hours of sleep total in the past week, which my doctor basically had to drug me into. The bags under my eyes are more pronounced now than they've ever been, making me look a fucking zombie. Hell- even on a normal stressful day I'd get at least a few hours. My private cell phone dings, and I roll my eyes at the notification.

"Early Bird Press:

Secret Service Denying White House Correspondents access to hospital ; What illness is the president hiding?"

At least people don't listen to reporters as much as they used to. Most Reporters, while the rest of the country has progressed, have only become more ruthless. More desperate for stories, since the divisions in this country are almost nonexistent now, even between republicans and democrats. They'll grasp at any little thing they can and run with it- thank god people see right through them.

   As we can see clearly now, the  past three years of my presidency have definitely been the calm before the storm. The terrorists organizations stopped being public in any way, knowing that every single person involved would be beyond fucked if they were found. The 32 we have in custody, while still given basic human rights, are not given anything extra.

  Food, water, clothes, medical care if needed, reading material, religious items, a place to sleep- but that is all. Most of them are in solitary confinement. Their only human interaction is with the soldiers that bring them the food. Guantanamo bay has become more humane in recent years-  physical torture is banned, though mental is still used to get information out any time there's a new detainee.

  Most of them will never see their families again. Never return to the countries they grew up in- but for a good reason. Every single one of them held a high up position in a terrorist organization. While terrorist activities have dropped over seven hundred percent, this week has taught us to never let our guard down. To always assume that something is being planned even when every piece of intelligence points towards it being a safe month. "Mr.President?" A doctor knocks on the door. "You alright in there?"

  Fuck no. "Yeah just... just give me a second."

  "Alright well... secret service is coming in anyways to check on you."He says. "I can't exactly stop them."

  Seconds later, the one that survived that mess back there  bursts through the door. "Christ can you give me a fucking minute?!" I yell. "Wait no, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that I'm-"

  "Mr.President- it's okay. I know we're not  really supposed to talk about our personal opinions but I can understand why you wouldn't trust us right now. The Vice President authorized a full investigation into every agent but..I wouldn't..trust us either." She says. "That.. waiting room'll be a crime scene until they clean up the blood but there's another one just down the hallway."

  "What's your name?" I ask.

  "Ella." She replies. "Ella Thornton."

  "How long have you been in the secret service division?"

  "Ten years."

  "And you've been working under my head of security most of that time?"

  "Well, yes sir- but I didn't have anything to do with... that. I'd swear on my grandma's ashes." Ella says.

  "Never said I thought you did." I shrug. "Tell me, when was your last pay raise?"

  "I don't think I'm allowed to... talk about that."

  "Oh come on I'm not a tattletale." I respond.

  "It was... last year, Mr.President."

  "Great-" I say, stepping past her into the hallway. "You're my new head of security."

  "Mr.President-" she's interrupted by a voice in her earpiece. "The eagle will arrive in approximately five minutes."

——Lauren's P.O.V, 8 years ago—

  My funeral dress barely fits anymore, with the muscles on my upper arms and thighs, so I stand still as Kendra pokes pins into the areas that need to be adjusted.

  "You know I could just.. make you a new one. I know you can afford it." She suggests.

  "No- This is the dress I've worn to funerals for ten years. I'm not switching it up now." His brother and mother were the only blood-related family he had left, after his uncle died a few years ago too. His mom treated me like I was her own daughter. After she found out I was homeless, had ran away  from my mother who was acting like a fucking psychopath, she made me stay with her. His family kept me alive and breathing when my own wouldn't. Though my relationship with my mom did start improving that year, I never went back to living under her roof.

  I understand now that she didn't know how else to live. That she'd been stuck with my dad for so long, she didn't know how to function without him even though she hated his ass. Her mental state got better when she met the dude she's married to now- she stopped doing meth, got a real job; I even got a sister out of it.

  But still- I've never truly forgiven her. I've tried, I just can't bring myself to do it even though she wasn't the one that pulled the trigger. To this day, Kyle's mother is more of a mom to me than she's ever been, even though I love them both.

  God-this one stings. I can't imagine a pain any worse than what I'm feeling right now.