Heartbreak Hotel

F I V E

JUDE'S FOOT TAPPED against the hardwood flooring of the cafeteria with anxiousness.

Where was she?

Jude had been waiting for Ophelia to show up at lunch for a good half an hour, and he was beginning to lose hope. His cynicality was beginning to show, leaving him wondering if she had purposely stood him up and played him like a fool. Did she just want to make him look stupid, was that it? Perhaps she didn't want to be friends with him at all, after all, who would? He was just another depressed patient in the facility that was driving him crazy.

He exhaled sharply through his teeth, staring at the food piled on top of his tray, no longer feeling hungry, and pushed the tray away. Just to be sure, he lingered around for a few more minutes before he concluded that Ophelia probably didn't even want to be friends with him at all, and so he was alone like he always was and destined to be. He stood up abruptly, grabbed his tray, and walked towards the bin where he threw it out wholly, not even savoring in a single bite.

The day passed slowly, and secretly, he had hoped that he would've seen her in Ms. Armento's group therapy, but she was a no-show. She hadn't shown up to their usual place to walk to Ms. Bordeaux's room either, and he began to sense she was avoiding him. He couldn't help but conjure up the worst case scenarios, imagining her laughing with her friends about how stupid he was.

And it hurt, but his mind was his own enemy. He blamed himself for the way he was feeling, because of his misanthropy, that's what ruined him in the first place. When he returned to his room at nine o'clock in the night, the first thing he saw was his patron sat on his bed.

Xenia smiled at him softly, "Hey, Jude."

"Hey." He muttered, wanting to wallow in his own self-pity and loneliness.

She could sense his sadness, and so her smile fell from her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The word was a mumble from his pursed lips. "Why are you here? You've been gone all day."

She turned her head, brown hair glinting under the pearlescent moon that shone through the windows, "I'm here to make sure you take your pills." The light caught onto the half-white half-blue medicinal capsule of temazepam and white anti-depressant pills.

Jude shook his head, "I'm not taking those." He walked to the bathroom, not in the mood for socializing of any kind like he always was. Truthfully, Ophelia was the only person that he sort of enjoyed talking to, or rather, listening to. She did most of the talking while he just kept his mouth closed and ears opened. Was he overreacting? Possibly. Ophelia not showing up was just a sprinkle on the f****d up sundae that was his life, it held such little relevance, but yet it still hurt like hell.

"Jude, you have to." Xenia followed after him.

She watched as he ignored her and instead placed his face closer to the sink with running water so he could wash his face. Jude rubbed over his eyes, trying to rid himself of the dark under-circles, white suds of soap gliding across his skin before he rinsed it off and went to pat his face dry. "Try as you might, I'm not taking those damn pills." His voice was gruff.

"Jude-"

In one swift movement, his hand reached out and knocked the medication out of her hand, the pills clattering against the tile. The motion made Xenia move back with caution, knowing that she had overstepped, meddled too much. Although her intentions were pure, it found a way to make Jude angry, and she knew why. She felt almost piteous towards him- he was this sad, quiet, angry boy with so much love in his heart was being treated like an absolute maniac, and so he acted like one.

"Go." Jude's head hung low, looking almost ashamed.

When she didn't move, his piercing green eyes went to meet her own, "Go! Leave!" He shouted.

--

The week of room arrest was one of boredom. There was nothing for Ophelia to do except spit insults at her patron and stare at the white ceiling or sleep the days away. Her thoughts kept her unwanted company, leaving her to wish that there was a medication to stop her mind from working the way it was. Stacks of food piled by her bed, her appetite no longer a constant.

She was angry. And lonely. Spending every minute between four eggshell finish walls were starting to take a toll on her, mentally and physically. Eating became something along the lines of a chore, and she had lost concentration on anything worth of importance. After all, if there was nothing significant to think about or look forward to, how could she focus on anything else? It was pointless.

Ophelia tried hard to ignore any memories clouding her brain, and instead inked her skin with a spare black pen she had laying around. She traced the shape of a heart on the inside of her wrist with boredom, sighing in annoyance when her finger twitched and made a sharp line outside of the boundaries of it. Her hand reached and threw the pen at the wall in frustration, pressing her full lips firmly together with grimness.

Deciding to get up, she dragged herself to the bathroom. After peeling off her clothes and pulling her hair out of its lazy bun that sat on the top of her head, She glared in the mirror at her hair it lay on one side after being up for so long. Her hand reached to the water dial and she turned it to burning hot, not caring about how it felt like a dozen tiny needles pricking her skin with the heat.

"Where the hell were you?" Caspian's voice was loud and thunderous. It was the first thing to welcome her face when she opened the door to his vigorous knocks.

She opened her mouth in shock before closing it in shock again. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to muster the courage she had practiced a numerous amount of times. Her parents weren't home and neither was her brother, so she was left to handle Caspian by herself, and that was off-putting in itself. Today was the day, she had been trying to gather her wits as much as possible for what was about to happen.

"I want to break up." She stated, her voice strong even though she felt anything but. Although she sounded lionhearted, there was a crack in her words a dead giveaway that she couldn't hide. On the inside, she was shaking, a building without a foundation, threatening to crumble.

Caspian scrutinized her for a moment, his bronze hair glinting under the sunlight, almost appearing golden brown. And then, as if it were some joke, he threw his head back and guffawed. It was taunting and sickly like he found the situation amusing rather than serious. "You're funny, Lia."

Ophelia frowned, her thick eyebrows furrowing in confusion and anger. Why was he laughing? This wasn't funny. She wasn't taking his mocking bellowing laughter lightly, after all, she had been attempting to hint that she didn't want him anymore, but it was if he didn't even pick up on her clues at all, and continued as he did before. "I'm serious," Her voice was hoarse. "I don't want to be with you."

All traces of mirth dissipated from his expression and frame, an angry glare that seemed a constant now worn on his face. Ophelia didn't understand how such a good-looking man could be so angry, so furious all the time. Even when smiling, it held an underlying 'f**k you' to the world. He took a threatening step towards her, towering over her small body, hands twitching to wrap around her neck, "You screwing with me, Ophelia?"

Ophelia gulped and shook her head, craning her neck to look at him dead in his chocolate brown eyes, "No, Caspian, I'm not. I can't anymore." She was convinced he could hear her heartbeat in his own damn ears, that's how hard it was slamming against her ribs. She could feel her pulse pumping vigorously in the side of her neck, through the thick jugular artery that was flooding blood to her brain.

He moved too quickly for her to even react. In one swift movement, Ophelia's crimson red colored nails scratched at the iron grip that he had clamped around her throat, cutting off her source of oxygen. Caspian shoved hard, nearly making her eyes roll back as her head smacked against the wall that he had pinned her to. The veins in his hand protruded with ire, and she forced herself to stare at the at the pale blue tint of them beneath his pale white skin.

"Say it again," His face was threateningly close to her own and the words came out through the grit of teeth. "I dare you, Ophelia."

Ophelia squeaked out, feeling as if her head would explode with all of the blood rushing to it. "I-" She gasped for air, "I don't want to be with you."

"Oh." He laughed hard and evilly, the sound chilling her right down to her bones. "You don't have a choice, now do you? You won't leave me." Caspian's tone was menacing and ridiculing, his lips pulled back in a mean sneer. When she didn't answer and her face began to change from red to purple, he released her enough for her to catch a breath and not pass out. Her skin was covered in a sheer layer of sweat, her fear coating her body with perspiration. He shoved her heard against the wall again, "Will you, Ophelia?"

"No," She choked out, "I won't."

He smiled then, the malicious grin of the Cheshire cat. "Good." His hand moved from her frail neck to her hair. At first, she thought he would just tug at it like he normally did, but her head twisted in pain when his hand coiled around the strands like a rope and yanked. With it wrapped around his fist, he pulled, hard enough for her to hiss slightly and follow him where he dragged her. She almost tripped as he pulled her up the stairs, and panic swelled across her chest and caged her heart within.

With a harsh shove, she crumbled to the floor under manipulation of his force, and curled into her own self as his foot kicked her right in the stomach.

Ophelia shut her eyes and tilted her face back under the scalding hot water, hoping her memories would slip down her body and into the drain with it. But they remained, and so did the feelings of Caspian's hands on her skin, taking everything away from her, even when she wasn't willing to give. And so she scrubbed. She used the body sponge, coating it evenly in scented body wash and abrading at her skin until the porcelain was replaced with red irritation.

When she finished with her shower, she was struggling to hold her tears in and bit the inside of her cheek. She towel-dried herself hurriedly, wincing when the fibers only rubbed the red skin even more.

And then she stared. Straight in the mirror at her naked body. Ophelia analyzed herself with a sour taste in her mouth. She looked at her flat chest and stomach, the ribs that protruded, the smallest bit of her hip bone that stuck out, her thin legs, and the small dip her waist made before it met her hips. Patches of her were still crimson from scrubbing, but freckles lightly danced across her arms, lower back and shoulders.

She tucked her tongue on the inside of her cheek with a sullen expression at her small, thin structure and covered herself back up. And then she picked up her clothes, and what was left of her dignity, and walked into her room, only wrapped in a towel.

The person she saw inside nearly made it fall to the floor.