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Interlude 2 - Ophelia
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 22:07:30 +0000 UTC** College in Washington **
Ophelia sat down in her seat in the college auditorium. Today's lecture was pharmacology, a fairly complicated subject even for someone smart enough for a full scholarship, which meant she had to put her full attention into the class.
However, even before the lecture started, she was already falling asleep. Her focus flickering on and off like a malfunctioning old TV, waiting for someone to hit it on the top to get a few more seconds of signal before inevitably going back to static.
And right now, there was more and more static in her head. Her mind was screaming for sleep. The tiredness was courtesy of her mother and another screaming match she had with her in the middle of the night. Recently, those were becoming more common, which was not a good sign.
She took another sip of the awful, cheap coffee she bought before. She wasn't sure if what had woken her up was the caffeine or the taste.
She took out her laptop. It was an old thing, purchased in a pawn shop, but it got the job done. Making notes, watching slides, and writing theses were thankfully not the most demanding tasks for today’s technology.
But still, whenever she turned it on, she always wanted to disappear for a second. The reason was that the old machine started with the sound of a jet engine. Every time that happened, other people in the class would look in her direction, gazing at her from behind their latest model MacBooks bought by their parents.
College wasn't a cheap affair, and most of the people here came from affluent backgrounds, from families that could at least afford a laptop.
And just like every time, a couple of people turned around to look at her as the cursed machine revved up its engine. Reflexively, she stretched the sleeves of her sweater further down her arms to cover the red marks left after yesterday's argument.
A couple of snickering remarks made their way to her ears. The attempts to cover them were more for show than to prevent her from actually hearing them.
She looked at the screen, her pale face with freckles and raven black hair reflected in it. She was reasonably good-looking, which she always thought of as more of a curse with the attention it sometimes brought.
She sighed and mentally prepared for the lessons.
And like that, the lectures crawled slowly forward. Pharmacology, anatomy, biology, and finally, laboratories for chemistry, a fairly interesting subject, and the only part of today that did not require the god-awful coffee to stay awake.
They were divided into groups of three to prepare specimens with bacteria for observation under a microscope, with their task being to identify the bacteria and their strain. But the promise of fairly interesting labs quickly turned into a promise of pain and suffering as she looked at her group.
”Please, for the love of God, anyone but them.” She groaned internally.
Tom, a jock straight out of any college drama. From being the captain of the football team to dating the cheerleader’s captain, he fit all the criteria. His dad was a well-off doctor and the owner of a hospital, so his path was decided. God speed to anyone who actually got him as their physician.
She hated him the most. He had once been interested in her, but after failing at the normal courtship—and catcalling could hardly be called a courtship—he actually tried to offer her money to sleep with him.
And next to the idiot was his cheerleader girlfriend who, of course, never got angry at him for the infidelity but at the women he targeted. The pretty blond queen of the uni.
One more year, she thought. One more year, and she would take a cozy job in some small town away from all of this and live the rest of her life with dogs and cats, being thanked by sweet old ladies and townspeople. Most of all, somewhere away from her mother.
And maybe, just maybe, the feeling of emptiness at the pit of her stomach would go away.
That was the vision that kept her going. Through life and through the labs filled with Tom's awful attempts at getting into her pants. Followed by passive-aggressive comments from his girlfriend.
At the end, with a headache and tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she was praying for the finish. But as the time for the end of class came, the professor stopped them from leaving.
“I have an announcement.” He said, lifting some papers, “We are organizing a trip. Recently, we signed a research partnership with a laboratory in Norway to undertake a joint research project. And part of the project is student exchange.”
The room erupted in hushed conversations, some curious about the research and some about Norwegian women.
“Quiet! I‘m glad to see your enthusiasm, but don't talk over each other. You can give me your candidacies for the trip, but mind you, the deciding factor is your academic performance.”
And daddy's purse, Ophelia added in her head.
“The trip is also extra credit, so keep that in mind. You have one week to decide.”
After that, the professor let them go. The trip sounded interesting, but she was torn. On one hand, it was extra credit, which was useful and made keeping her scholarship easier. However, spending additional time with the people from the college was not something she would be looking forward to.
But the extra credit.
She would decide later. Right now, what she needed was sleep.
She took a bus home and arrived at an old, one-story suburban house. There were obvious signs of the passage of time. Visible mold in some areas, the paint chipping off, and the wall planks misaligned due to moisture. But she didn’t mind. It just had to hold for one more year, and she would be free from all of this.
Walking into her home, she stopped and listened.
Silence.
Her mother was not here, and that meant some peace at last. She didn’t even notice when she nodded off into sleep.
After a good night's sleep, she woke up fresh and in a better mood. A mood that immediately dropped when she heard her mother downstairs. That meant today was the perfect day to study in an internet café.
She tried to slip away, but...
“Where are you going?”
She made it to the exit without a sound, but the harpy heard the opening doors.
Shit.
“Out.”
“I want you to stay and help me with the chores.” Her mother was still slurring the words a bit from yesterday’s drinking, no doubt. That meant she could not stay, not when the next step would be a hangover, making her mother even more unbearable.
“I have to watch the stock market, so I can’t clean. When we are going to be rich, you can act like a princess, but now I need you to contribute to the household.”
“Rich on another scam,” Ophelia couldn't stop the murmur.
“What?”
Fuck, she whispered a bit too loud.
“Nothing, I have to study, I have exams.” She lied quickly and bolted through the doors, not listening to the screeching coming from behind her.
The walk to the café would be calm and relaxing, if not for the storm of thoughts inside her head. She knew that there would probably be another screaming fit waiting for her at home.
The anxiety took her mind on a ride with worse and worse scenarios. It kept her so distracted that she didn’t even notice when she was walking by the mega church she wanted to avoid. She knew that this was not the one run by her father. Hell, it was not even the same town, but a dislike for churches remained. Every time she was next to one, she had this feeling like her father would walk through the doors any second now.
Her pace quickened subconsciously.
The rest of the day was spent in the cafe getting to work on a normal PC for a change.
She stayed late enough that her mother would hopefully be either drunk or watching TV, giving her a chance of sneaking back unnoticed.
A maneuver she somehow pulled off.
Some more games and good night was the plan, but then she noticed something was wrong.
The laptop was missing.
The bed, the desk, the wardrobe, everywhere she looked was devoid of her machine. Each place she checked added some unease. The weight in the pit of her stomach was growing, now the size of a boulder, slowly changing to panic.
Her mother had to have taken it. No idea why, but whatever the reason, she doubted it was anything good.
She took a couple of breaths and calmed her beating heart. This was probably a lesson for not helping around the house. She would negotiate and apologize, and everything would be fine.
Yeah, that simple. She lied to help herself calm down.
Making her way downstairs, she could see her mother in the living room. The woman was sitting with her back turned towards the stairs. A glass of wine next to her on the table spelled difficulty in the coming negotiations.
She was watching something on her own PC. Ophelia could hear some annoying young voice explaining another get-rich-quick guaranteed scam to the undivided attention of her mother. Probably another way to drain any money they got from her father.
She contained a groan of irritation, imagining the money wasted in the next obvious rug pull.
“Mom.”
No answer.
“Mom!” She tried a bit louder. That got the effect. The woman stopped the video but did not turn around.
“What do you want? I’m busy.” Came an irritated voice.
“Did you see my laptop? I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Yes, I pawned it.”
It was like a hook to the gut. The words knocked the air out of her lungs. Anger and irritation rose with the next breath she took.
“Y-You what?” She stammered. “But that was mine. You can’t!" Was all she mustered still not believing the situation.
“Yes, but this is my house, and you will contribute one way or another.”
“But that was MY laptop. I needed it to study.” The irritation shifted to anger, fueled by the infuriating calmness of her mother’s voice, as if she were explaining things to a child without a hint of guilt. The anger put the next words in her mouth before she could stop them.
“And it isn't your fucking house. Last time I checked, it was Father that paid for it since you don't make any money.”
The woman stiffened.
Ophelia regretted saying that. She knew this was a road of no return, but she needed to retrieve her laptop, even if it meant asking her mother for the money to buy it back. She couldn't just leave this with her tail between her legs. This was a bridge too far, even for her mother. The ball of anger assured her that the confrontation was a good choice.
"What did you say?”
Her mother’s face scrunched as she turned to face her daughter.
“I’m trying to make money, I'm trying to give us a better life, while all you do is hang with some rich people, probably drink, party, and sleep around. You think I don't know. I’m not stupid. You are never home, and I know what kind of people go to the local uni.”
“I'm not home because I have to study to be able to go there. And to do that, I neeeeed myyyyy laaaaaptooooop!” She screamed the last part.
“Well, I pawned it. You should be glad you contributed to the source of our income. Once crypto goes up, that laptop of yours will get us ten like those. Maybe even a new house, as this one doesn't fit us.”
“It's not going to return anything. How many times do you have to lose that fucking man's money to learn that?” Ophelia felt like she was in a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.
“I wouldn’t have to try and earn it if he were still with us. And whose fault is that?”
“You think that is my fault?” Ophalia's voice cracked. This line was nothing new, but every time the conversation took that turn, she could not believe it. Anger ignited, like an ember doused in petrol, as it turned to fury.
“Yes! If not for you, he would still be with us. But you had to freak out when a guy showed some interest in you.” Her mother matched her gaze. “We always knew you were a strange child. Your father said you were a Devil’s daughter. And that's what I get for carrying you to term. We hoped that contact with Jason would straighten you out, but instead, you sent him to the hospital.”
“I was fifteen! I was protecting myself.” She could still remember the weirded-out gazes, the screams. And then the guilt-tripping and pointed fingers.
“And he didn't even do anything, but you-you did something, you little witch, and the entire town started talking. Now we are here with a falling-apart house and hush money. Instead of a mansion and the respect we had, all because of you!!!”
Probably the entire neighborhood could hear them now. Ophelia was now screaming through her tears, any semblance of trying to make a point was gone, and now only the will to release the anger remained.
“He was twice my age! And he should be in jail, but instead he walks free because you love money and status more that your own daughter you, you bitch!”
Her mother was furious, and even more so because deep down she knew Ophelia was right. And the only answer to her animalistic urges was violence.
She got up from the chair and raised her hand.
Ophelia knew what was coming. She gritted her teeth but did not close her eyes. She looked right at her mother. She wanted to let her know that her hatred and lack of respect could not be beaten out of her.
She wished she could strike back.
And as she thought that, the chair on which her mother just sat flew.
It flew as if an invisible force took it and threw it with considerable strength into her mother’s back. The woman fell to the floor with a squeal of pain, now looking up at her daughter with anger and fear mixed together.
“D-Devil’s child,” she said, pointing a trembling finger at her from the floor.
“Devil’s child!” She screamed, getting up and putting distance between them.
“Your father was right. You are a devil's child. You are cursed!” She wailed from the other side of the table.
Ophelia stood there, not knowing what had happened, just as terrified.
Ghost?
Demon?
Was she a Devil's child?
Was all of this some sort of horror?
Many thoughts swirled in her head, thoughts she did not know how to deal with.
So she did the only thing she could. She ran. Upstairs to her own room. She slammed the door behind her, tears streaming from her eyes.
She cried, she cried a lot, anger mixed with fear and surprise, leaving her body in the form of hot tears. She needed a break. A way out, out of this house, town, and life. At least for a while.
The application for a trip to Norway sitting on the desk caught her eye. Without much thinking, she sat down and started to fill it out mechanically. Anything was better than this.
So she filled it, the whole process made harder by the tears that did not want to stop, no matter how many times she wiped them. Tears that let the emotions leave her body.
And as they did, she could feel the emptiness, a weird sadness that had been her companion for a couple of years now. She could feel it grow a bit. She always hoped it would go away.
This emptiness appeared that night when Jason, a supposed family friend and a pastor like her father, was thrown into a wall by the unknown force. Thrown with enough strength to break his bones. Thrown after he came to her room, completely drunk one night. It was the same force that had thrown the chair just now, she knew it.
The sadness would eventually subside once this horror was over. She would feel complete once again. Ophelia told herself as she slowly fell asleep.
And she didn't know that, technically, she was right. The emptiness would soon leave, replaced by something else.
