Heartbreak Hotel

E I G H T

"WHAT DO YOU mean you won't let me report her?" Ophelia hissed, slamming her fists on the desk. Her fingers tightened into her palms, her nails pressing into her skin with ire.

The female receptionist leaned back in her chair and peered through her glasses that sat on her button nose, clearly appearing unbothered. "You heard me, Miss Angara. Patients are entitled to their own opinions. Free speech is welcomed here at Heartbreak Hotel. I can give you a copy of our policies if you wish."

"It's not free speech, it's hate speech. When is it going to get through your thick skull that free speech should be taken away when you lack common decency?" Ophelia bit out, her lips pulled back in a snarl. "That was discrimination. Is that in any of your stupid policies?" At this point, she was in the receptionist’s face.

“Miss, I’m going to need you to take or I’ll need to call security.”

Jude placed a careful hand on her elbow, urging her away from the desk. He didn't want her to get in trouble for this. He was surprised that she wanted to report it (though he never would), because if she wasn't there, he'd do nothing. He was used to it. Even though it was 2030, it was still America. There were still many people with racist ideas, much hadn't changed over the years. Discrimination and police brutality was still just as common.

"Ophelia, leave it." He said quietly.

She glared at the receptionist, shaking him off. "Listen, lady." She leaned in closer, "Asian to Asian, we both know how it is--"

"Miss, I am not going to make exceptions simply because we are the same race. You cannot file a complaint if it does not go against the policies or rules and regulation of Heartbreak Hotel." The woman answered, her voice tight with irritation.

Jude placed his palm on Ophelia's shoulder. When she turned to look at him, he shook his head. No, he was telling her. It isn't worth it. She sighed, turned back to the lady, threw her a dirty look before she strode out of the room, her feet purposely dragging on the floor, Jude following in suit.

Ophelia breathed in the air of the hallway, noting how it smelled like fresh bleach. The floors were also slightly slippery, meaning a janitor had just been around and mopped. She knew that being around there too long would cause nauseousness, especially with the strong chemical chlorine smell. "This is stupid."

"Just leave it, Ophelia. There's nothing else you can do," He muttered.

She glared at him, "Do you always give up so easily?"

"It's easier to give up than to fight," Jude responded, his shoulders slack.

He was correct, in a way. But it didn't make it okay. Sure, it was easier, but it wasn't right. It was saddening that he was so accustomed to being treated like that, and it only fueled Ophelia's frustration. Why didn't he want to fight for himself? Why didn't he want to see that girl get in trouble for the things she had said? It didn't make sense to her. Although it hadn't happened to her directly, Ophelia was furious; why wasn't Jude the same?

Ophelia furrowed her eyebrows, "Why don't you ever stick up for yourself?"

Jude shrugged, his hands limp and his sides. "I don't like conflict very much."

Ophelia took a few steps back so she could lean against the wall lazily with her arms crossed against her chest. "I can tell," she scrutinized. "Conflict comes from anything. Might as well get used to it."

"I don't want to," he snapped.

She didn't react to his sudden outburst, but she felt slightly surprised by it. “You can’t live in this world being soft, Jude. You’re soft. You’re going to get hurt.” Ophelia didn’t mean for it to come out harshly, but the tone of her voice came out too self-righteous for Jude’s liking. He couldn’t help but feel irritated at her-- who did she think she was? He didn’t ask for an extra therapy session, one with her, at that.

“What is with you?” He bit out. Jude stood up straight, his shoulders now broader with newfound vexation. “Who do you think you are to tell me how to be or how I am? I’m already hurt, Ophelia, that’s why I’m f*****g here.” He scowled at her, ignoring the racing of his heart from behind his ribs.

Ophelia frowned, “I’m just trying to help you-”

“I don’t want your f*****g help.” He cut her off, ignoring the way his stomach twisted when her expression fell to disappointment. Jude was only being honest-- he was tired of people trying to help him, trying to fix him. He didn’t want to be fixed, nor did he need it. The way he phrased it wasn’t right, but he was telling the truth at that. And as soft as he was, he was still frustratingly stubborn. He was standing his place this time.

“I don’t want your help, Ophelia. It’s not your job to help me.” He met her hazel eyes, “just leave me alone.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left her staring at the place where he once stood.

--

“Can you watch where you’re going?” Ophelia snarled at the meek girl that just bumped into her. It was safe to say since her argument with Jude over a week ago, she wasn’t exactly in the best of moods. Things suddenly seemed a drag and seeing him in the hallways only irritated her more. He seemed to be doing just fine, which was a good thing of course, but it upset her that his face remained blank when he would catch her gaze before he would turn away and continue reading his book.

“Sorry,” the girl squeaked out, quickly scrambling to get away before Ophelia went off on her.

Claudia raised an eyebrow at the situation, “You’re more bitter than usual. What crawled up your ass?”

Ophelia glared at her own white sneakers as they continued towards her room. “Nothing,” she snapped, growling in frustration when she dropped her key on the floor as she was trying to insert into her lock.

Claudia brushed her hair out of her face, “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

Ophelia stared at her for a moment before rolling her eyes, picking up her key before standing up straight and unlocking her door, shoving it open. “Not in the mood today, Claud.”

The two girls continued into Ophelia’s room, and while Claudia sat down on a chair, Ophelia collapsed down onto the bed. She let her legs carelessly hand off the side while she buried her face in a pillow, suppressing a frustrated scream. She hugged it tightly to her mouth, in hopes Claudia wouldn’t see the dissatisfied downward tilt of her lips.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Claudia muttered, “You’ve been such an asshole lately. What’s your problem, Ophelia?”

“Jude’s my problem. That stupid patron that won’t leave me alone is my problem. I hate it here and everything is so frustrating and I just want to go…” Ophelia trailed off, nearly wincing at the word that dared to come out of her mouth after.

“...Home.” Claudia finished for her.

Ophelia threw her pillow onto the floor, rubbing her hands over her eyes. “No, not home. I don’t have one.”

She wasn’t lying. She never grew up in a loving household, everything had been so… detached her entire life. Her brain contained no memories of warm hugs and comforting reassurance. She and her siblings came and went as they pleased, and her parents were always too busy with work and their failing marriage to notice, or even raise their children properly. Home simply never existed in her life. It was just a house with people she was related to, no other form of other types of relations, they were only connected through blood.

“So what’s this about?” Claudia paid no mind to her comment. After all, she didn’t have a great childhood either. She had become desensitized to these types of things.

All of a sudden, without a warning or even a sign, a loud alarm sound began ringing through the building, accompanied by the ceiling light’s pale illuminance changing to firetruck red, flashing repeatedly. Both Claudia and Ophelia jumped because of this, and before Ophelia could even ask what was going on, Claudia launched up from her chair, grabbing her from the forearm, before hurriedly pulling her out of the room.

“What’s going on?”

Patients were speed walking towards the stairs and main doors, therapists were rushing around, following in suit and clearing all rooms.

“A fire,” Claudia’s eyes were wide with panic. “Arson.”