Legacy

Being a sophomore at West Connard High School, Ophilia considered it her sworn duty to look after those who were just entering the school. It was a new year, after all; the grand year of 1999, the last year in the turn of the century – the last year, ever, if you believed some doomsayers.

Leaning on a railing in the school’s open lobby, Ophilia watched the wide-eyed freshman take their first tentative steps into the first day of their new lives. She remembered that feeling – nervousness, but excitement too – when you take those first steps beyond the threshold. High School began as an awesome experience; not good, precisely, but awe-inspiring, certainly. Some would revise that opinion while others, like Ophilia, wouldn’t.

She was an oddity; not smart enough to be a nerd; not nimble enough to be a cheerleader; too happy to be a goth; too free with her acquaintances to be one of the popular girls. Personally, she hated the idea of social cliques. She was willing to be friends with just about anyone, assuming they weren’t terrible.

As she watched, a girl in the back of the crowd tripped, dropping her books and papers as she fell with a shout. The crowd simply parted around her; some were laughing, while others ignored her. Everyone else was obviously nervous about being the lone person to go in and help. Crowd mentality was bullshit.

Ophilia heaved a sigh – an expression she’d grown rather proficient at over the past year – and leaned off the railing. She moved against the current, towards the fallen girl, showing politeness when needed but mostly ignoring the crowd.

The fallen freshman was flat on her rear, one hand on her nose while the other was in the process of recovering a pair of glasses. She was wearing a white turtleneck and her hair – which was dyed completely cyan and blue, strangely – was cut short and was obviously tidied up for her first day of school. When she noticed Ophilia she offered a small, easy, thankful smile.

“Hi,” she said simply. “I’m a total mess, aren’t I?” She added, not giving Ophilia a chance to respond. She was practically overflowing with nervous energy. “Can you give me a hand? I haven’t lost my shoe, have I? Am I bleeding?” She moved her hand from her nose after she finished bombarding Ophilia with questions.

Ophilia blinked at the swarm of words but recovered quickly. “Not that I can see,” she replied, deciding to only answer the last question. She already found herself liking this girl’s boundless energy. Standing beside her was like standing next to a thunderstorm that was also, somehow, on fire. She knelt down, helping to gather up the random splash of books, folders, and papers. Curious, she flipped one of the larger books – obviously not a school textbook – over at random.

“The Weapons and Technology of Star Wars?” Ophilia read the title softly to herself, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm? What’s that?” The girl asked, just then getting her glasses into place. She blinked a few times, saw the book, flushed beet red, and snatched it away – all in the span of a few breaths. “That’s n-nothing! Just something I, uh, I got for a friend.”

Ophilia took in the other girl’s nervous stutter, the way her eyes had become wary and defensive, and instantly grasped what was happening. This girl positively screamed "nerdy" at the top of her lungs. Now Ophilia understood why no one else had stopped to help her. The girl’s defensive, knee-jerk reaction made it obvious; she probably had a reputation of some kind that had followed her here. She may have even been tripped on purpose, for all Ophilia knew.

Of course, Ophilia thought with a smile, I know nothing about her past. She simply smiled and shrugged to the girl, then continued to pick up more books, as if nothing had happened.

After another second of picking things up, the girl laughed. It was a strangely pure sound, like silver strings on a harp. “Man, this was a terrible first impression, wasn’t it?”

Ophilia looked over to the other girl from her spot on the floor, meeting her eyes. She was returning Ophilia’s stare with just a hint of trepidation, tucking a strand of sky-blue hair behind one of her ears. She had an earnest, innocent face that Ophilia instantly appreciated.

Scooping up the last book, Ophilia stood. “Not at all. I’d call it endearing.” She handed the collected books over, once the other girl had gotten up herself. “May I ask your name?”

The girl clutched her belongings to her chest and adjusted her glasses with her free hand, eyes dancing behind the lenses. “I think you just did.” She chuckled, eyes sparkling. “Vivian. I’m Vivian Scratch.” Her small face split into a grin, showing off pearly teeth sparkling with braces. Ophilia couldn’t help herself – she smiled right along with her. That smile was monumentally infectious.

“Vivian,” Ophilia repeated the name, tilting her head in mock consideration. “Can I call you Viv?” She was shown another big smile, followed by a pleased nod. “Good. My name is Ophilia Melody. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Vivian giggled; childish and playful. “Oph, huh?” She’d pronounced it like oaf, unaware that she’d repeated the nickname that had haunted Ophilia’s younger years. She did, however, recognize the look on Ophilia’s face very quickly. The giggles vanished, replaced by an apologetic look. “Sorry. How about Mel? I think it’s a much cuter nickname anyway.”

Ophilia took a breath and nodded, hauling her bag up onto her shoulder. “Sure, I don’t mind.” She pointed to Vivian’s books. “You might want to buy a backpack. What could have convinced you to go without one?”

Vivian blushed a bit, turning her pale skin red. She tugged the neck of her turtleneck up with her free hand in an embarrassed gesture. “Well, I do have a bag, but…” She trailed off, paused, then laughed. “Well, it’s Star Wars. They’re making a new movie this year, and I was all… hyped up when I was buying supplies, so…”

Ophilia smiled a bit as she started down the hall. “Well, I look forward to seeing it.”

Side-by-side, the two walked to homeroom. As they closed the gap between them with words, feelings followed; a true and beautiful friendship was born.

As the year passed – both with grueling slowness and astounding swiftness – boundaries were set, roles were filled, and other friends came and went. But the two girls were inseparable. Their bond only grew with each passing day and before they knew it, the next year had begun.

The punch wasn’t too bad, but it made Vivian bite her tongue. One the ground, tasting her blood, Vivian tried to not look back at her attacker. That would only make things worse.

“Give it up, claptrap. Between the specs and those railroad tracks on your face, I know your family must be loaded.”

Alec, Vivian concluded, was a very confused young man. He was right, interestingly enough, but still; very, very confused.

He stood over Vivian, working his hands into fists, letting his knuckles crack over and over again. “Your ugly ass can give me the cash and iPod, or I can knock the steel off your teeth. Your choice.”

Some choice, Vivian thought to herself, struggling to not snort at the unfairness of it all.

“Alec!” The snarl in that sudden shout was unmistakable – like a lioness that’d just found some idiot toying with her cub.

Ophilia found the two in the north-east stairwell, in the niche behind the stairs. No doubt Alec had cornered Vivian when she was coming down the stairs after third period. When Vivian hadn’t stopped by her locker to chat, Ophilia had gotten nervous. Vivian never broke her schedule and she never missed a chance to talk.

Now, Ophilia was far too enraged to be nervous. She hurried in, putting herself in the small space between her friend and the bully. Vivian scampered back against the wall behind her, giving Ophilia more room to move, if the need arose.

Ophilia studied her friend quickly, her eyes turning into twin chips of winter, swirling with a blizzard of cold rage. She turned the full force of those frozen green eyes back onto Alec, who was either too thick-headed or too pig-headed to flinch.

Vivian would very aptly describe Alec as six-feet of testosterone, addled by a brain the size of a walnut and a temper like a T-Rex. Once, he’d been a prominent member of the school’s football team – a Quarterback, in fact – with everything in the world going for him. But after an incident in which he hospitalized a classmate, he was expelled. Almost immediately after, the coach of the team came to find out that Alec, his shining star, was pumped full of enough steroids to let him bench-press twice his own weight. Needless to say, things went poorly for Alec.

Now a senior, Alec had fallen onto even harder times. There were few people Ophilia hated more and if popular opinion was to be believed, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way about the ex-QB. Many of the school’s more spirited students felt he had betrayed the school’s spirit by cheating at the game; others thought he should’ve cheated better while others still just thought he was a raging prick. Either way, Alec was the bottom of this school’s barrel, in every sense of the phrase.

“Keep it pushin’, Oph,” Alec spat, speaking in a scornful tone. “Me and Vivi here were just talking business.” That old insult hadn’t actually bothered Ophilia since Middle School, but Alec was of the mind that believed that insults were like fine wines; letting them age only improved their quality.

“Business my butt…” Vivian muttered quietly from behind Ophilia.

She’s okay enough to joke around, Ophilia noted with an inward sigh of relief and exasperation.

"Well," Ophilia began, squaring her shoulders and breaking out her 'pompous' attitude. "As Vivian's dear friend, it would be remiss of me to not aid her in her business dealings. Can't allow her to get cheated, now can I?" She got a small amount of satisfaction at the fact that Alec was still obviously struggling to try and figure out what remiss meant. "So, tell me Alec: what are your views on extortion?"

"Huh?" Alec asked, not convincing anyone with his feigned ignorance. "I wasn't extorting anybody."

Ophilia looked back at Vivian, as if shocked to still see her there. "Oh no, I believe you've misunderstood me," she said with a regretful tone, turning back to face Alec. "This has nothing to do with her." Alec gave her a confused look, not fully grasping the direction this conversation was going. "Just you and me, Alec. Just us," Ophilia slowly explained with a sickly sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Tell me, do you remember what I told you when you tried to borrow my money two years ago?"

Alec tensed and Ophilia's smile became more like a malicious smirk. "Ah, good. I'm happy to see you've retained your family's hereditary elephant genes when it comes to memory. Shame about the ears, though." She heard Vivian giggle softly behind her and had to struggle to not smile a more genuine smile.

Apparently the insult went right over Alec's head, because he just stood there, glaring daggers at her. Ophilia would need to be more blunt with him. "Well, as you certainly know, Vivian is my dear friend, and as such, under the same deal I offered you way back when. So, either you leave her alone or I'll make sure that certain information reaches certain ears, if you catch my meaning."

Alec maintained his stance, but Ophilia noticed a faint tremor in his clenched fists. "You're bluffing."

Ophilia gave her head an imperious toss. "Really? You seem so confident." She sighed and shook her head. "So willing to take a risk like this over something so small. How depressingly simple-minded of you. But again, that's to be expected, given your parentage."

The look of anger finally flipped into Alec's eyes and Ophilia knew that insult didn't sail over his head. "You trying to make fun of me?" Alec growled, cracking his knuckles.

Ophilia barked out a sharp laugh. "No; when you say trying, it makes it sound like I'm not succeeding. But, you seem to be having some trouble understanding my meanings, so let me use small words from now on. You're a moron, Alec, and you know that you can't touch me or mine. I've got plenty of dirt on you. Don't make me spread it around."

Alec's little pig eyes darted from Ophilia, to Vivian, then back again. Ophilia could practically hear the rusty gears slowly churning to life in that tortured monstrosity Alec called a brain. She had him.

"Get out of my sight, Alec," Ophilia commanded, her smirk turning into a sneer. "Go find smaller fish to try and bait. This one's protected by a shark."

The bully cursed, complained, and raged, but it was all prideful bluster. He obeyed moments later, scurrying onto his next victim. He swore retaliation, but that was nothing new; he was a coward at the end of the day. Ophilia took a deep, calming breath. She did so love winning.

Turning back to Vivian, she offered the other girl a hand up. She hadn't stood up during the entire conflict, obviously trying to present a more pathetic and minuscule target. "You're not too hurt, are you?" Ophilia asked.

Vivian shook her head, looking a little amazed as Ophilia helped her to her feet. "What could you possibly know about Alec that would scare him that bad?"

Ophilia gave a small shrug with one shoulder and let out a nervous chuckle. "Absolutely nothing; I was bluffing. A few years ago, I threatened to expose his drug use to his coach, but I never had to actually go through with it. All I had to do was remind him of my threat and let his imagination fill in all the blanks for me." Ophilia paused, then sighed, remembering something her father had written to her, when she was smaller. "The demons people hide inside are far worse than anything we can invent. Better to let them see what they don't want to see, rather that try to invent something for them to see." Just one of her deadbeat dad's little grains of wisdom.

Nervous energy began to zap through Ophilia's veins as the adrenaline faded and she started to really look at what'd just happened. What would she have done if Alec hadn't fallen for her ploy? Would she have been able to fight him? She imagined those cracking knuckles and nearly laughed out loud. Yeah, right.

Vivian tugged the neckline of her ever-present turtleneck up to her nose, her eyes downcast. She shuffled a bit, not making eye contact with her friend.

Ophilia frowned, leaning in to get a better look at her friend's face. "You're sure you aren't hurt, Viv? I'll get someone to beat him senseless if he really did hurt you..."

Vivian shook her head, silent for a second before speaking through her turtleneck in a muffled voice. "He said I was ugly," she said morosely, trying to hide her face. The hurt was plain in her eyes; she heard that particular insult often.

A wan smile found its way onto Ophilia's lips, but she felt a crackling stab of pain in her chest. In the past year-and-a-half, the once excitable, talkative Vivian had been beaten down by the cruelty that only high school kids could seem to replicate. Ophilia had tried to protect her from the barbs, but she was one girl against many. As far as she knew, Vivian hadn't been able to keep any lingering friendships going, apart from her. Ophilia had become her retreat; her shield from the thorns and arrows of others. That, in turn, only made her more withdrawn.

It all made Ophilia want to find the jerks like Alec and punch them all really hard. In the balls.

"Hey," Ophilia said softly, placing a hand on her friend's arm. She looked straight into her eyes, using her free hand to keep Vivian from looking away. As always, once Vivian saw how serious Ophilia was being, she met her stare without prompting. "Why would you listen to an ape like him? Like I said before, his mother probably weighs several tons, has a scratchy grey hide, and broke out from the local zoo. His opinion is less than worthless." Ophilia brought her hand from Vivian's chin, waving it in the air dismissively.

"Besides," she continued, "your spunk alone makes you cute. You're not ugly at all, Viv. And that's me saying so, not some idiot like Alec." Ophilia gave a bright smile and planted a small, friendly kiss on the other girl's forehead, hoping to cheer her up. "Ignore him. He's an idiot, remember?"

Vivian shuffled her feet some more, looking away and down once Ophilia was done. For a moment, Ophilia was worried she'd done something wrong. However, after a second, she cracked a wide smile, noticing a blush creeping up from under the rim of Vivian's turtleneck.

She slid the arm on Vivian's shoulder to the other side, holding her to her side protectively. She bumped her head lightly against the other girl's, laughing. "Come on, cutie. Lets get you to class."

The rest of the year slipped by without incident. After the fun and friendship of summer break, Ophilia returned for her senior year. The new year was, she recognized, a huge improvement.

Not only was she driven to improve her own studies, she saw a vast improvement in Vivian's social life. While making friends was still a trial, bullies seemed to back off now that Ophilia was in her fourth year. She'd become a rather powerful force within the school's administration – her willingness to work with the teachers and staff leading her to being called in to settle small disputes between other students. To some, she became a kind of mentor figure.

And all the while, Vivian – her most faithful friend and companion – stuck by her side, always ready with a friendly smile or a kind word.

Ophilia leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs demurely. She sipped bubbling water from a champagne glass, feeling like a queen in her dress.

Her date, however, was a slob.

Ophilia withheld the hundredth sigh of the night, looking across the table at her prom date. Despite the similarities in their names, Oliver had hardly anything else in common with her, save for his good looks. If she hadn't needed a favor from him, she certainly wouldn't have been wasting her afternoon – of her senior prom, no less – with him. He hadn't once asked her to dance, didn't pay her any major compliments, hadn't pulled her chair out for her, or even held a door for her. Even now, he was far too concerned with eating to bother paying her even an ounce of his gluttonous attention.

She couldn't lie about his looks; he was handsome. He had bright blue eyes, silky brown hair, clear skin, and a very, very nice athletic figure. Despite his position as Quarterback on the football team – a position that had been heavily corrupted by Alec's influence – and his reputation as a Jock, he was a rather nice man. However, this was slightly marred by the fact that he had no manners whatsoever and was unknowingly selfish.

She took another sip from her drink as he rose, saying he was going to refill his plate. She gave him a smile – she was determined to be polite to him, even if he wasn't being gentlemanly – but let out a pent-up sigh once he'd vanished into the crowd.

"Man troubles?"

Ophilia turned, smiling more genuinely at Vivian. Her friend was wearing a dress. which was something Ophilia hadn't seen one single time in well over two years.

The outfit was in a Chinese style: Ophilia was fairly certain the style was called a cheongsam. It was snow white and sleeveless, with a high neckline and a pair of slits running up both sides of her slightly-below-knee-length skirt, displaying plenty of leg. She wore a pair of silver bracelets inset with sapphires – real sapphires! – and a pair of matching earrings. Her hair, brought to life by the shimmering stones on her ears, was held back in a bun with a pair of white chopsticks.

When Ophilia had first seen her, she'd been dumbfounded, a feeling that was amplified when she realized that Vivian's glasses were missing, replaced by contact lenses. As usual, her friend wasn't even aware of how stunning she really was. When Ophilia had asked where she'd rented her dress, Vivian had shrugged, saying it was custom made. That fact, perhaps more than anything, made Ophilia wonder. Vivian never talked about her family – or their social standing – very much, but Ophilia had her suspicions.

"Not so much man troubles as a troubled man, I suppose. Oliver is a dud," Ophilia replied softly, setting down her glass onto the table.

Vivian took Oliver's seat across from her with no real grace, sipping a soda straight from the can. Ophilia couldn't help but chuckle. No matter how stunningly wonderful she looked, Vivian was utterly clueless on how to act in that dress. Defying all sense of logic and propriety, this somehow made her even cuter.

"You look really nice," Vivian commented, not for the first time that night. It was a perfectly timed compliment, as always.

While her dress wasn't as extravagant as Vivian's, Ophilia felt it suited her down to her toes. It was black silk, shot through with a filigree of grey and augmented with golden jewelry and purple amethysts. It had cost her two months of pay to perfect it, but Ophilia was satisfied with the results. She well and truly felt like a Goddess in her dress, strolling among the mortals, basking in their worshipful stares. Her low neckline displayed her natural assets and a slice up the left side of the dress ran from hem to hip, exposing the skin of her leg with every step she took.

At Vivian's words, she sat up a little more properly, feeling an ounce of the disagreeable day brighten and crumble to dust. "Thank you very much, Vivian. You do too."

Her friend laughed, showing off a metal gleam. It wouldn't be long now before those braces went the same route as her glasses. Vivian had blossomed into a beauty that no one – save Ophilia herself – had expected.

"Don't lie, Mel. Dresses fit me like they fit a chimp. I look ridiculous in this clown suit." Despite her smile and jovial demeanor, Ophilia saw the underlying message. Ophilia had learned to read every nuance of her friend's expressions, and could see the pain masked under the happy-go-lucky tone.

She gave Vivian a level stare and, when her friend looked away, she followed her gaze. It was then she caught sight of Neil – Vivian's date – flirting shamelessly with another girl across the large room, where he thought he was out of sight. While Ophilia watched, the swine even kissed the other girl and copped a feel.

Ophilia felt anger swell her veins. She had gone out with Oliver on the condition that he'd convince Neil to ask Vivian out. She'd told him to keep it between them, to not let Vivian know, and as far as she knew he'd done just that. Her friend had been so excited; this was her first real date. She had planned on boosting her friend's self-confidence and maybe convince the more ignorant individuals that Vivian was more amazing than their limited understandings of human decency could grasp.

Now, Ophilia just wanted to wring Neil's slimy little neck. She'd become a trophy date for some egotistical man-child so her friend could have a good time during Ophilia's last year at school. This disgusting situation just confirmed one of Ophilia's long-standing beliefs about this miserable school: it didn't matter how beautiful you were, if you weren't popular too. After all, a jock like Neil couldn't be caught dating a 'nerd' like Vivian, right?

Ophilia snarled, moving to rise – entirely ready to give Neil a piece of her mind and the barbed side of her tongue – but a pale white hand rested on her wrist, stopping her.

Vivian stared at her with barely repressed pain and gave her head a small shake. Ophilia felt the rage drain away, replaced instead by a profound sadness and matching regret. This had all been her grand plan to make Vivian more comfortable – to make her life easier – without her. And now look how it all turned out. She sank back into her seat, feeling a vice grip on her heart.

"Oh, Vivian..." Ophilia rolled her wrist, covering her friend's hand with her own. She shuffled through her brain for something to say, to find some way to salvage this enormous failure.

"Would you... like to dance with me?" Ophilia asked, mildly surprised at the question that'd slipped past her lips. Despite her best efforts, her voice had sounded a little strange – a little fearful, a little hopeful, a little hesitant. She tried to cover it up by taking a sip of her drink, unknowingly making herself look guiltier.

Vivian caught the odd hitch, raising her eyebrow in curiosity. When no explanation was given, she shrugged and set her soda down, offering her friend a small, warm smile. "Well, it's about damn time someone asked."

Ophilia rose, offering her hand to her best friend. Linked together, the two walked out onto the dance floor, two long-time friends enjoying one-another's company. They weren't the only pair of girls dancing together – some other friends had taken this chance to practice their dance moves or to have some fun – but for the two of them, this felt oddly different.

The music was a thumping techno; modern, but just slow enough that someone could dance to it in a dress or tuxedo without getting too sweaty.

Ophilia immediately felt as uncomfortable as if she'd never danced before. Her feet were uncertain and her steps were languid. Her arms felt like worms, nailed haphazardly to her torso. She hated trying to dance to music like this – it always made her feel so graceless.

Meanwhile, Vivian had come alive. Her dress was free enough that she could be more liberal with her movements, showing flashes of skin with every snap of her hips. She danced like Ophilia had rarely seen, wild and free, exploding with energy. She knew Vivian frequented nightclubs – she'd gone along once or twice, but hadn't appreciated it like her friend – but she'd never seen her dance before, nor considered the implications.

Now she saw that passion full-throttle, fueling her every little motion and step. Arms in the air, hips swaying and snapping to the beat, Vivian's eyes were closed over a face that was a mask of limitless joy. Now, Ophilia found herself regretting that she'd never bothered to join her friend on the dance floor of those clubs. For the first time in her life, she felt small and passionless, dwarfed by this living sun beside her.

After several minutes – and several similar tracks – the song changed to something slower, making Ophilia immediately more confident in her ability to shine. But, despite her high hopes and the familiarity with this style of dancing, she still felt clumsy. Her hands felt clammy and her legs felt stiff. She was on the brink of panic when a voice pierced through her distress.

"Mel? Chill out. You're super tense," Vivian said simply, giving a small, amused smile.

Her voice was like a balm on a burn, soothing the wound and bringing focus where there had only been discomfort. Ophilia shifted her arms into the proper female position, wrapping them confidently around Vivian's neck.

"Sorry, I just..." Ophilia trailed off, uncertain. She couldn't really explain what had just happened. Had she been intimidated by Vivian's dancing? That unfamiliar feeling – like a sudden tightness in her gut – was still there, hiding just beneath the surface.

Vivian shifted into the male position, her hands resting on Ophilia's hips. "It's really not like you to be so shaky," Vivian whispered to her. "You okay?" The two began swaying to the alluring song, not really moving from their solitary place on the dance floor.

Ophilia didn't reply. She was focused, still trying to place the feeling that was waltzing it's way through her limbs. It was familiar, yet evasive. Whenever she tried to pin it down, it would escape from her. She knew she'd felt it before, but she couldn't really place when and was certain it'd never felt quite like this. She leaned her head forward, bringing it close to Vivian, letting her eyes close as her old dancing lessons put her body into auto-pilot. She swayed and moved and her mind cleared, but the warm, tingling emotion dodged her like a bird in flight.

She was taken completely off guard. Little did she know that this would become a staple between her and Vivian from that moment on.

Ophilia noticed it just an instant too late; a brushing sensation on the side of her nose. She opened her eyes, confused, just in time for Vivian's lips to meet hers.

Her first reaction was shock and embarrassment – they were standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor! However, that elusive emotion stoked itself in her chest, burning through everything else like a lightning bolt. She barely even heard the startled gasps from the people around them. She tasted Vivian's kiss and realized it tasted like nothing like what she would have imagined: she expected the metal of the braces, but there was also a faint hint of peppermint.

In that perfect moment, the fact that Vivian was also a woman fled her mind. She found herself leaning into those soft lips and welcoming arms. She pulled the other woman closer, wanting to make this moment last – to freeze it forever in history, so she could see it behind her closed eyelids. She melted into Vivian's arms, eyes closing again as she soaked in this bliss. Let them gasp. She was content.

When the kiss finally ended, Ophilia let her eyes open very slowly. Vivian was staring at her in silence, biting her lip and squirming in place, a blush crawling up to her ears. Behind her, Ophilia could see the faces of their classmates; some shocked, some confused, other nodding and sagely, as if they'd expected this all along.

But just then, the world had narrowed down for Ophilia. Everyone else was just an extension to Vivian and herself – mere decorations for the scene. Nothing else mattered. The world was a void and only Vivian existed.

In the endless silence of that second, Ophilia finally began to put a name to that tingling emotion, and it made her heart pound ten times harder. She tried to think more clearly, to solidify the thought in her mind, but it slipped through her fingers like mist. She couldn't focus. She could barely think.

But through the cloud of emotions and through the shock and awe, Ophilia felt the sudden urge for privacy and a good long talk about what had just happened. They couldn't possibly leave it unspoken.

Without a word, Ophilia reached out and took Vivian's hand, starting towards the double doors out of the room. While the music still played – slow and sweet to Ophilia's ears – the dancers around them were mostly still and quiet. People moved aside for them, opening a path and letting them by unimpeded. Ophilia caught a brief glimpse of Neil and Oliver, standing side-by-side, staring at her and Vivian with slacked jaws. In the years to come, that image would become the second greatest highlight of Ophilia's school life. At the time however, she was far too overwhelmed to offer them more than a passing glance and not a single thought.

The sound of the music vanished as the double doors closed behind them.

The people out here in the hall hadn't seen the two of them – didn't know about the maelstrom walking in their midst. Ophilia guided Vivian around the blissfully ignorant, not saying a word, until the two of them reached another part of the parlor, closed off from the prom. Ophilia opened another pair of doors, stepping into a mirror copy of the room they'd left behind, minus all the trimmings and people. A sign near the door stated that this room was reserved for a party tomorrow afternoon. She closed the doors behind Vivian and, with only a second of hesitation, turned the lock with a click.

Vivian, who had been fidgeting and utterly silent since leaving the parlor broke the oppressive quiet. "Ophilia, I–" She cut herself off suddenly, shaking her head and taking a deep, steadying breath. "Oh my God, I can't believe I just... I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking! I didn't mean–" She cut off with a yelp as Ophilia closed the distance between them with two long strides, snapping her hands around the other woman's waist.

All at once, everything she'd wanted to say fled Ophilia's mind. She tried to dig it loose but it was gone, replaced by only one sentence.

"Shut up and kiss me again," Ophilia said bluntly.

The second kiss was less clumsy than the first. Vivian's hand wrapped around Ophilia's back, holding her almost desperately, as if someone or something might try to snatch her away.

Ophilia responded in kind, adding her tongue into the kiss, holding the other woman close enough that their bodies pressed together. Emotions burst to life inside her chest – emotions she'd believed she understood, but now realized she'd never truly felt; she'd only ever been haunted by their fleeting shadows.

This time their lips parted slowly, with the regret of someone trying to defy their destiny. Vivian's eyes opened only a half-second after Ophilia's and their eyes locked together, both sharing a kind of obscure regret – regret that it had taken this long for them to reach this point.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Vivian regained her wits faster than her more composed counterpart. "Hey," she said in a tone meant only for Ophilia's ears. "Let's blow this joint." She grinned a sparkling grin, showing a blatant disregard for Ophilia's lingering shock. She nudges her head towards the doors, giving a dry chuckle. "I don't really feel like dealing with all the whispers and stares tonight. But... well, I wouldn't mind going on a more personal date with–" she stopped herself suddenly, eyes going a little wide in confusion. It was such an odd expressions on Vivian's face that Ophilia forced herself to memorize it. After only a breath, a worried look crept onto Vivian's face, but her eyes simply smoldered.

Ophilia felt her blush spread from her cheeks, crawling over her nose and making her whole face go red. Something in that expression made her want to squirm in place.

"A personal date with... my girlfriend?" Vivian finished the sentence with a question, somehow jauntily raising an eyebrow while also looking seductive and nervous at the same time. She was a mishmash of emotions that in any other situation would be hilarious. Her smile had taken on a new quality, making it far more than her usual smile; it was sparkling, yes, and still addictive of course, but it had simply grown to encompass everything Ophilia had grown to enjoy about this woman –her ferocity, her energy, her kindness.

Ophilia had known the word was coming, but it still subtly staggered her. Girlfriend. Vivian's girlfriend. She recovered quickly, feeling her own face split into a rare, passionate grin. She felt her blush shrink back to her cheeks as she laced her fingers through Vivian's in a loving gesture. Yes, that was it; that evasive emotion; that distant shadow that had finally shrouded her properly. Love.

Speechless, she nodded to Vivian and accepted this new, wonderful part of her life.

Ophilia yawned, sitting up and stretching her arms towards the ceiling. A little under a year had passed since her senior prom, when she and Vivian had changed one-another's lives so drastically. She glanced over, smiling at the woman who was still snoring lightly by her side. She was even drooling a little on her pillow. Ophilia hadn't even known she'd drooled until later. It was adorable.

Vivian's promised metamorphosis was complete. The glasses were almost entirely gone now, replaced full-time with contact lenses. Her braces, taken off earlier this year, had left the spunky woman with a truly magical straight-toothed smile. Ophilia had never questioned the smoothness of her skin or the silkiness of her hair before, but in her arms, Vivian felt frail and in need of a protector, but when her personality flared, Ophilia knew she was neither.

Their relationship felt natural, like breathing or blinking. It was second nature to them to compliment the other with just their presence. The hardest part of their relationship, however, had been telling their families. Ophilia had been lucky; her adoptive mother, Belle, had accepted the situation right away. She'd known Vivian very well, and considered her like a second daughter by this point.

On the contrary, Vivian's case was far more complicated. Ophilia had never met Vivian's parents before; Vivian always insisted upon hanging out in public or at Ophilia's home. Upon meeting them for the first time, however, Vivian learned why. Both parents were archaeologists, respected in their field and responsible for several large discoveries in the area. They weren't really famous, but they possessed a vast fortune to which Vivian was the sole heiress. This did, however, mean that her parents were oftentimes gone for long periods of time, causing a large rift between the child and parents to grow.

The fact that her friend was a scion to a wealthy family had surprised Ophilia, but the more she thought back, the more the facts lined up. Vivian always had a slew of new clothes, access to the latest and best technology, and always seemed to have whatever she needed. Then there was the matter of her prom dress... However, her love for simple, practical clothes and her love for the simple things masked her parent's lifestyle behind her own. To hear Vivian tell it, her family's wealth made her uncomfortable.

They'd been hesitant when Vivian had told them she was moving in with Ophilia. They had, after all, only ever heard stories about her. When questioned, Vivian reacted in her usual style and made no effort to disguise her feelings for the other woman, and had effectively shocked both her parents into a speechless silence. The beginning had been a trial – they weren't hostile, but very confused and distant – but Ophilia finally believed she was starting to win them over to her side.

Now here she was, sitting at Vivian's side and wanting for nothing. With an idle hand, she slid a piece of hair off Vivian's face, earning a faint grumble and a swat. She smiled, just watching for a second.

Vivian was garbed in only her skin – she hated sleeping in clothes – and was covered haphazardly with sheets and blankets wrapped all the way around her. She tended to roll around in her sleep and keeping a blanket from her was a constant uphill struggle.

Ophilia had been amazed to learn that Vivian was also a natural blonde. According to her, she dyed her hair so people wouldn't call her stupid. It was still that familiar shade of blue and cyan and had grown slightly longer, pooling around her head like a series of short, winding rivers. Her chest rose and fell with her slow, steady breaths, ending with that very faint snore that Ophilia had grown to adore.

Smiling, Ophilia slid from the bed, feeling the heat of the sun on her naked body. Her own hair, one of Vivian's favorite parts of her, was tended meticulously. It was long enough to cover her backside now, reaching to the middle of her thighs like a black waterfall. She stretched more thoroughly, gasping as she felt a satisfying pop in her spine. With a deep breath, she slipped into the bathroom for a shower before work.

As the water danced over her and cleansed her for a new day, she hummed to herself; a tuneless song she'd come up with just then. Half-an-hour later, she walked back into the bedroom, pulling on her clothes and applying her makeup. Once that was done, she walked over to Vivian's side of the bed and gave her lover's shoulder a small shake.

"Wake up, lazy bum. Time for school."

Vivian groaned but opened one of her eyes. "Five more minutes, mom." After a second, she chuckled and sat up, purposefully letting the sheets fall off her body and giving Ophilia a sly, teasing look.

"Nope," Ophilia replied with a coy smirk, ducking down to kiss the other woman fondly. As that brief euphoria ended, Ophilia wondered how she'd ever lived without loving this woman. In retrospect, maybe she hadn't, really. "Get your sexy ass up." She stepped back from the bed, crossing her arms. "I can't be late for work, remember?"

Vivian faked another groan and slipped from the bed. She started dressing, having showered the previous night, but did so with exaggerated slowness. "You are right though; my ass is sexy."

Ophilia rolled her eyes and sighed, but despite her previous hurry, she made no moves to speed Vivian up. She simply leaned on the wall and watched. "We need to get breakfast on the way too, don't forget," she said idly, as if she actually wanted her to hurry up.

Vivian chuckled, knowing this routine and speeding up after a few more seconds. "Yes, my lady. Your wish is my command."

In another thirty minutes, the two were on the road, munching on breakfast sandwiches and sipping coffee. The high school came into view suddenly, a memorable sight for Ophilia. She'd stopped outside the school almost every day this year, but hadn't stepped inside in just as long. A part of her missed the simplicity of school life, while another part of her felt more secure in her maturity, having a job and paying her own way.

Vivian hopped from the car, taking big bites of her sandwich, swallowing fast. "Later, Mel," she said, half-gulping down her meal and waving with her coffee-holding hand.

Ophilia gave a small wave back and Vivian shut the car door, closing them off from one-another's passions. Ophilia was just herself now, alone.

With a soft, happy sigh she drove to work.

Ophilia took her job very seriously, even if it was only a placeholder. As of now, she was a secretary for a local law firm, a simple job that left her feeling like she'd accomplished something at the end of the day.

With a twirl of the wheel, she turned into the parking garage, again humming that tuneless song from the shower. She'd never really hummed that much, before she'd found Vivian. Now, she was finding it more and more enjoyable.

Right away, things struck her as strange. There were far more people in the garage than normal and most of them were entirely unfamiliar. There was a general air of tension and nervousness that was actually visible – people who would normally linger and talk were hustling along to their destinations with uneasy haste. The faces she didn't recognize seemed distant, borderline hostile, as they scanned the garage.

Ophilia briefly wondered if the police were here, but that couldn't be right; these men weren't wearing uniforms. They were dressed expensively, each wearing suits in varying colors, but all of them with stark-white ties. Every one of them had their eyes hidden behind black shades, which only added to the air of menace. The way they moved reminded Ophilia of the bullies she'd so recently left behind, trying to intimidate with presence alone. Despite the simple similarity, these guys were older, more dangerous. They made those petty thugs at her school look woefully inadequate.

With a small shrug, Ophilia dismissed the men. She decided they were free to act however they wanted; they had nothing to do with her, after all, so why should she judge them? But as she parked her nerves began to fray. Were those hidden eyes following her car? Did those ones over there have their hands hidden inside their suits? Were those ones over there, idle just a moment ago, making their way towards her car?

She chuckled nervously, chiding herself as she parked and turned off the engine. "Come on, Ophilia," she said out loud, trying to calm her nerves. "You've been watching way too many of those stupid spy movies..."

Bottling her nerves, Ophilia opened her door and stepped out. There was only a brief moment of stillness before it all happened.

"It's her!" One of the suited men shouted, making them all move at once with a kind of professional, calculated efficiency. Their hands flashed to life and fear tore through Ophilia's restraints as she saw guns appear in their hands. If she hadn't already been edgy, she likely would've frozen up, but her previous fear made her respond quickly. instead of seizing up, she screamed and jumped right back into her car, slamming the door shut.

Gunshots rang out in the garage, like the barks of hell-hounds, smelling the scent of fleeing souls. Bullets slammed into the car, shattering windows and thumping through the metal. Luckily, other cars shielded Ophilia as she cowered in the driver's seat.

Ophilia cursed over and over, trying frantically to get the key back into the ignition, but her trembling hands made it next to impossible. Glass shards rained on her head as more bullets struck the windows and, without realizing it, she screamed again, her primal instincts overriding her fear-addled mind.

Finally, the engine roared to life. Without pause, Ophilia snapped the car into reverse, screeching out of her parking space. She made it most of the way out of the parking spot before she collided with something, giving off a loud crunching noise. She snapped her head around, still huddling in her seat, trying to see just what she'd hit.

Behind her was a car that hadn't been there mere seconds ago. It had pulled out from a nearby parking space to block her inside. She couldn't back up any further, but she could turn. Frantically, she kicked the car back out of reverse, spun the wheel, and slammed the gas, trying to knock into the car beside her and move it out of the way.

A large screech from her right brought her head snapping around just in time to see a white van slam into the passenger side of her car.

The world blurred and twisted. Sound was replaced by the wail of tortured metal, like the wails of the damned. She heard a loud, long ringing sound that felt like it was drilling it's way directly into her brain.

She couldn't seem to remember where she was or what she was doing there or even what was happening right at that moment. She felt warmth on her face and when she touched it, her hand came away slicked with blood. Even then, she still didn't understand.

The door to her car was torn open on protesting hinges and unfamiliar hands dragged her from her seat. Before she could process anything further, the world was wrapped in black. Ophilia felt something over her head and was so dazed that she was thankful that it blocked the stinging lights. Someone was pulling her along by her arms, dragging her across the ground. Oddly, she found herself thinking that was very rude; they could just ask her to walk. Her hands were forced behind her back and tied there tightly. She smelt sweat in the covering over her head and tasted blood in her mouth and slowly – very slowly – realization crawled from it's cave. Without any ceremony, she was flung bodily onto a hard surface with a dull crash of pain. The sound of a closing door. Motion.

As unconsciousness blessedly crept closer, Ophilia finally felt a single clear thought filter through her pain-addled mind.

Why?

Vivian stood on the sidewalk outside the school, looking down the same road Ophilia would arrive from. In one hand, she clutched her cell-phone in a white-knuckled grip, faintly grinding her teeth.

Ophilia was three hours late and dusk was closing in. She wasn't answering her phone. Dread had settled into Vivian's chest like a block of lead.

She silently walked back to the apartment, looking over her shoulder for Ophilia's car or trying her phone every few minutes. She told herself that it was probably nothing; that something had probably just kept Ophilia at the office for some reason. Her phone must have died or she'd muted it. Maybe she left it in the car. Something. Anything. Her head and heart hadn't accepted what her instincts were trying to tell her.

The apartment was, as expected, empty. Vivian tossed her bag onto the couch, taking the seat beside it. To try and distract herself, she turned on the television.

She flipped the channels, but nothing seemed to interest her. She was nervous and worried and the stupid shows on the TV just seemed to irritate her more. She was just about to go get some sleep when she passed over a news channel. Something caught her eye.

She jumped from the couch, flipping back a channel, stopping on the local news network. The dread grew stronger – digging into her chest like a hot knife. She dropped the remote, staring blankly at the screen, only barely comprehending what she was seeing.

The headline was plastered in a bold white script along the bottom of the screen: "Breaking News! Twelve suspects at large for parking garage shootout!"

Vivian half-listened to reports from shaken, frightened witnesses – Ophilia's own coworkers – giving panicked testimonies to what they'd seen. They speculated, cried, and trembled. Vivian waited for Ophilia to show up on the screen, knowing she'd be calm and collected, despite the chaos, but she was never interviewed. For Vivian, it all felt like some strange, surreal dream.

But suddenly, the terror became all too real when a picture of Ophilia's car – the same car Vivian had rode in just that morning – was shown on screen, pocked with bullet holes and caved in on one side. Though the vehicle was a shell of what it once was – barely recognizable and with the licence plate obscured – Vivian knew it was Ophilia's car, as sure as she knew anything.

Quickly, the picture was replaced by a young reporter, clutching a microphone in his hand. After a half-second pause, he spoke and Vivian started to listen again.

"While the police have yet to release any information on the identity of the victim or victims of this terrible attack, they assure us that it will not be long before a name is put to the victim of this obviously organized assault. The victim of the incident is still missing, but presumed alive, I have been informed. If anyone has any information regarding these events, please contact the number below. Any help you could provide the police would be appreciated. This is Kyle Southland, reporting. Back to you, Janice."

Vivian saw rather than felt herself fall to her knees. She was numb all over, barely able to think. Tears burned her eyes, sliding down her face like wandering flies. This had to be a nightmare or some cruel, sick joke. It was impossible. This kind of thing couldn't happen in real life, right?

But she was smarter than all that. She tried to cling to her delusions, but reality had a sick way of pushing its way in, latching onto her rational mind like a set of jagged claws.

She didn't know how long she sat there, on her knees in front of the TV. She didn't hear the news anymore. She didn't hear her phone ringing. She didn't hear the knocking on her door or the lock eventually opening. When her parents and the police finally found her, she was still there, hours and hours later, staring at the TV with a blank, unresponsive stare. She was still there and, even surrounded by all those people, she was alone.