Ophelia Harrison (eyeofnightmare) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2010-04-03 10:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | ophelia |
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Who: Ophelia
When: Sunday morning to the rest of the day
Where: Kindle and Ophelia's room
What: Ophelia discovers the news about Simon and grieves.
No. It was not true. Not possible. Simon wasn't gone; he couldn't be dead when Ophelia had talked to him a few days ago. They hadn't said goodbye, nor had she told him how much she appreciated having him as a friend. Yet there the news was, staring her in the face and mocking her. Your best friend is dead, ha ha! We snatched him away and you will never get him back. It became a mantra in her head, a horrible one that she was unable to ignore. The words ate at her, and infested the air with a putrid, heavy stench that made her sick.
She was unable to believe it. The first course of action she took was walking to the student lounge and giving the nearest guy she saw $50, who looked of age, telling him to buy as much alcohol as that would allow.
"Yeah? What do I get out of it?" he wanted to know. Ophelia grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast, making him look at her with confusion. Right now, she only had a couple goals in her mind and one of them was to get alcohol.
"You get to touch it under the shirt. Please go," she pleaded with a woeful expression on her face and that seemed to set him off. She sat on one of the sofas in the student lounge to wait for him to return and after half an hour, he did. Thanking him and leaving with the very heavy plastic bags, Ophelia returned to her room to gather all the candy she could. Her bed now had piles of candy and bottles on it, so it was time to get started. One of the bottles of rum was first, drank in gulps as she turned on her laptop and let it play her music on shuffle. Hell, she had a lot of depressing songs which seemed just so fitting now.
The rum burned her throat and for some reason, the boy she'd forced to get alcohol also put in some fruit juice. Nice. There was a glass that was still clean on her desk and she used that to mix the rum and juice. Half of the bottle disappeared and Ophelia realized again what a lightweight she was when she swayed just sitting on her bed. She drank alcohol with Simon, she remembered, first in the treehouse and then at the New Year's party, but drinking with someone else made it so much more fun. Now her only company was music, candy and pillows.
Ophelia caught sight of the marshmallows in front of her and started to cry. The crying turned into sobs, great heaving ones that seized her whole body and clenched her throat so much it hurt. It was amazing how she could be best friends with a person and not have that much of him to remember him by - a few pictures she'd taken of him with her phone, texts and e-mails, a few presents like a shirt he'd given her. It may seem like a lot to some people, but she needed more. Ophelia went over to her closet and dug through it to find Simon's shirt, pressing it against her cheek. It still smelled like him.
Her t-shirt, underwear, jeans and sweater fell to the ground before she slipped the shirt on, hugging herself to keep the fabric closer to her skin. If only it had retained some of the warmth from him, like when he wrapped his arms around her for a hug. Was it better or worse that she hadn't seen his body like she had seen Aya's when she was younger? The image of how Aya looked like in death haunted her on occasion and yet she could only picture Simon perfect, smiling, whole. It was only a small beacon of comfort in her overwhelming grief.
She huddled on her bed against the wall and brought the glass to her mouth. Her hands shook. What was she doing, trying to forget him by drowning her sorrows in alcohol? That wasn't what a best friend was supposed to do. She didn't have the motivation to do anything else, or the energy to talk about it with anyone. The universe was fucking with her by giving her a good friend who had never let her down and always listened to her and then taking him away when she started to not imagine any kind of future without him. Ophelia thought Simon would be in her life for a long time and now he wasn't.
She didn't want to accept that; she should not have to accept the fact. Ophelia put the glass on her desk and cried into her pillow. This was a nightmare and she needed to wake up. Instead time slowed and she just wept. She just drank and cried and drank and cried until blackness swept over her in an unwelcome blanket.