Thank you to everyone who is voting and commenting!

fiendishleech
JenniferMasters
ArchaicRose8
Aaliyah_BaexX
talented_playerZero
@AvalonRainder
ReadCrylife98

Happy Reading

The copy machine spits out a blank sheet of paper. Ophelia huffs, smacking the machine. She had already replaced the toner and paper, so why wasn't it working? She follows the directions on the touch-screen, opening hatch C and then hatch G. Nothing. Happens.

"Come on!" She smacks it again. It whirs to life, printing off the lab sheets Mr. Rogers needed for A&P.

"That's one way to do it." A voice says behind her. She screams, jumping into a fighting stance. Samantha stands behind her, giggling.

She blushes, lowering her fists. "You scared me." Ophelia faces the machine again, gathering her copies.

"I tend to do that with you." Samantha's voice is directly behind her right ear. Heat creeps up the back of her neck.

When she turns around, Samantha's folders brush her chest. Why is she always so close? "Only because you're tall. Giant people are scary." She moves around the redhead and takes a seat on the dingy leather sofa.

"I'm 5'10 which is 5 inches taller than you." Samantha opens her folder and pulls out some papers.

"6 inches!" She shouts, crossing her arms petulantly.

The copier machine whirs and begins spitting out crisp papers. They fall silent, and Ophelia can't tell if it's awkward or tense. It's Tuesday, 3 days since Saturday, the worst day ever. Literally every time they see each other, waves and smiles are exchanged. Ophelia had hoped to find a friend in Samantha, thinking that since they lived on the same floor it would be easy. How wrong she was! The woman is always on the move, never sitting still. Ophelia could never catch her.

She should just invite her to lunch or something.

"Wanna grab lunch today?" Samantha leans her hip against the copier machine as it works. Her hands are tucked inside the pockets of her khaki chinos, her left foot crossed over the other.

"Me?" She points at herself, shocked.

Samantha makes a show of looking around the room. It's empty save for them. "Yeah, you Ophelia."

A blinding smile lights her face. "Yes!" Ophelia stands quickly, getting into Samatha's space. She nudges the other with her elbow. "I thought you would never ask." Truth colors her words but the other woman doesn't seem to notice. Her gaze is settled on Ophelia, eyes wandering up and down.

"Great, meet me in the Cafe." She grips Ophelia's forearm briefly before grabbing her completed print job from the tray. They both make for the exit. Their shoulders brush as Samantha goes for the door, she holds it open. "After you."

"Thank you." In the hallway, Ophelia begins walking down to the left.

"Um, you're going the wrong way." She stops when Samantha grabs her arm and spins her around. "The science wing is that way." She points to the right.

They're so close that Ophelia can feel Samantha against her every time she breathes in. She tries to hold her breath, breathing shallowly. "I know, I'm running some errands for the math wing today. The assistant is out sick." She glances down at the hand on her arm. "Nice watch."

Instead of letting go like a normal person, Samantha shrugs. "I don't use it that much." She drops her arm, bringing her hand up between them. Her arm has a light dusting of hair with a smattering of freckles.

"Well it's neat is all." Ophelia takes a step back for breathing room. She takes another step back, and another. "I'm gonna go now." Her hand twitches to reach for her wrist as anxiety begins to claw its way up her throat. "See you at lunchtime." She takes off at a brisk walk, heels clacking on the linoleum.

"How's work? Are you still hiding from your neighbor?" Erica's voice teases over the speaker. Ophelia is in her kitchen, cooking dinner. She flips the tortilla in the pan, toasting both sides before adding it to a plate.

"You're so funny. Not." She switches the stove eye off. "For your information, we had lunch the other day." She takes a fork and cuts into her burrito.

Erica cackles over the phone. "I'm guessing you stared at her the entire time without speaking?" She giggles at the other's scoff. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"She sat right beside me and our legs kept touching." Ophelia drops her fork with a clatter on the plate. "Erica! She has no sense of personal space whatsoever, it's weird!" Her hands flail about as she begins to get flustered. "Like this woman will constantly find a reason to touch me, like always!"

Her best friend laughs at her stressed rambling. "Have you told her not to get in your personal space?"

"No." She wilts, taking a sip of her glass of water.

"Tell her then. Maybe she's just used to touching people all the time." Erica shrugs over the line, scrolling on her phone.

She shakes her head, grabbing the phone. "Nope, I've been watching her with the other teachers." Ophelia taps the screen to get her attention. Erica finally looks up, watching her friend through the video call. "It's only with me. Even when I thought she hated me, she still found a reason to get right on top of me."

Erica squints at the screen. She cups her chin in thought. "What else does she do?"

"Today when I saw her in the hall, I didn't wave at her because she was talking to someone." At this, she rolls her eyes remembering the interaction. "She found me like an hour later and said I should have stopped and talked to her anyway." Her burrito is slowly losing its appeal as she rants.

"Wow, I gotta meet her." Erica shakes her head. "So oblivious...does she not know..." She whispered to herself, eyes wide.

"Huh? I can't hear you?" Ophelia lowers her ear to the phone to hear better. "Erica, what did you say?"

"Nothing, hey, mind if I come up and visit in a few weeks?" Erica has her calendar app open for October.

She chews on her burrito, sounding an affirmative.

"How about the third Saturday? Will you be free?" Erica sees Ophelia give a thumbs up. "Come Saturday and spend the night, so I'll leave on Sunday." She punches it into her calendar. "Fia, I gotta go. My overnight shift starts soon."

Ophelia checks that it's almost 8 P.M. "Your 9 to 9?"

Erica groans, throwing her head back. "Yes, and I hate my life because of it."

"Talk tomorrow?" Ophelia places her empty plate in the sink and rinses it with water.

"We talk every day, don't we?" Erica's video turns blurry as she gets up from her bed. It clears up and Ophelia notices that she went to the bathroom, seeing the familiar cow painting on the wall.

"Yeah, but I thought you had a date with the nurse from Urology tomorrow night?" She wanders into her bedroom.

She hears a toilet flush on the other end. "Yep, that doesn't mean we still can't talk." Erica appears in the corner, washing her hands. "Who else am I going to tell every detail of the date to?"

"Sir Whiskers?" Undressing, Ophelia puts on her nightgown. Erica has a matching one.

"Ha ha, so hilarious." Erica brushes her teeth, foam dribbles down her chin. Their conversation ends a few minutes later when Erica is inside her car ready to leave. Phone on the charger, Ophelia rolls over onto her side. She drifts to the middle of the bed and yawns. Sleep is swift.

Jonathan and Ophelia sit on the bench outside of the apartment together. Judy has a tarp out and is helping Mr. Rogers splatter fake blood to imitate a crime scene. They were being used to outline the fake corpses. They're hunched over their phones, thumbs swiping across the small screens.

"Red killed me in electric." Jonathan sighs, squeezing his phone in anger. "I'm going to give you protection."

"I'll report and say I saw him vent away." The little yellow character on the screen finds the gray mangled body and reports it. "Man these people will believe anything you tell them."

The red character is quickly voted off and they win. Ophelia smiles while Jonathan starts bad-mouthing the other players. She laughs at the teen, the kid was honestly so funny.

"Ms. North, I need you to lay down here and pretend you don't have a head." Mr. Rogers shouts from his tarp, and a thick black Sharpie is raised in the air.

She lays down and waits patiently for him to trace her body. He skips her head, leaving the spot empty. She looks over to see Judy wiping fake blood on Jonathan and then taking photos as he lies crumpled on the grass. Luckily, Ophelia had finished with her photos for the crime scene. Now all she needs is a glass of wine and a shower to wash everything off.

"That's it! Thank you for helping me out Ms. North." Mr. Rogers helps her stand.

"No problem, and please call me Ophelia." She walks away with a promise to call him Alan from now on. Reaching Judy, she stifles a laugh at the sight of Jonathan on the ground with Judy standing over him, snapping pictures. "Judy, I'm heading in." She jerks a thumb in the direction of the apartment entrance.

Judy stops, almost tripping over Jonathan's leg. "Hey, go and use the water hose in the back before you go inside and track all that in with you." She points to the back of the building. "Jonathan will come in a few minutes, I'm almost done!"

At the back of the building, Ophelia sees a small garden and a walking trail leading into the woods. The garden is well kept, it even has some tomato plants. She finds the watering hose after a few minutes of searching. It wasn't attached to the brick wall but to a spout that she had to lift the rusty handle to turn on.

She shrieks at how cold the water is when it touches her skin. Being out in the hot September sun had warmed her skin, so the icy water shocked her into dropping the hose completely. "Oh fuck that's cold!" Ophelia jumps up and down, running in a circle.

"Are you okay?" She screams again, turning to see Samantha on the trail.

"Samantha! Stop scaring me like that." She bends over, a hand over her heart. "You need a bell." The redhead just stares, unperturbed by her attitude. "I was just trying to wash all this off."

Samantha strides over and it's then that her attire is finally processed in Ophelia's mind. The older woman was wearing black running shorts with a blue tank top. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail instead of her usual down style. Sweat drips down her neck and chest, darkening the blue fabric.

She picks up the hose. "I'll wash you off." Samantha raises the hose, preparing to fire the water at her.

"Wait!" Ophelia shields herself.

"What?"

"It's cold." Her reply is to spray Ophelia in the face. She shrieks, running away. "Samantha!"

The water follows her everywhere Ophelia runs. Behind the rose bushes, at the bird fountain, in the hydrangea bed. Samantha easily keeps up with her, unrelenting in her chase.

"Stay still!" Samantha sweeps an arm out, catching her shirt. She wraps it in her fist, stretching the wet fabric. "If you stay still this will go by faster." She yanks Ophelia into her chest.

She wails, kicking out her feet as cold water is doused over her head. Ophelia feels an arm wrap around her waist and hoist her up from the ground. "No! No, I'm melting!" She shivers under the water, choking on it when it overwhelms her mouth.

Samantha shakes her head, dropping Ophelia. She watches as the younger woman kneels on the ground, head bowed. "You're being overly dramatic." She leans down, spraying at her knees. "Spread your legs a little, there's still red stuff on them."

Her eyebrow raises, Ophelia had instantly done as she asked. The action was quick, she even placed her hands behind her back. She sprays her knees and thighs, shaking the thought from her mind.

While Samantha sprays her legs off, Ophelia stares at the woman's shoes. They're muddy from the water. She is literally sitting in a giant mud puddle, but the other doesn't even seem to notice. She looks up, about to tell her about the mess making her even dirtier.

Before she can utter a word, she gasps, thighs shuddering. Ophelia had dressed in her cotton sleep shorts, ones that already had stains on them. Her pale pink shirt is also old with paint stains from when she and Erica painted their apartment. To say that the entire outfit was thin, but even thinner when wet is an understatement. So when Samantha had moved the spray up her thighs and moved it across it had sprayed right on the junction between them.

Her eyes close, shuddering again when the water passes over. It happens again, a third time.

Above her, Samantha blinks, waving the hose from side to side. She noticed the reaction the moment it happened. Ophelia had raised her head and then shut down. Her head lowered, while her thighs strained in the mud. She wonders how long she can do this before the other finally realizes.

Samantha glances around. No one is on the soccer field or the trail. She looks up at the windows into the apartments. If someone were watching, all they would see is Samantha's back. Ophelia is completely shielded by her.

She continues her watering, this time raising it higher. The water hits Ophelia's chest dead on. The tops of her breasts are noticeable through the sheerness of the shirt and drenched bra.

After she feels her nipples harden from the cold, Ophelia braces her hands on her thighs in an attempt to cover them up. She raises her head. Samantha looms over her expressionless. "Sam-Samantha." She shakes like a leaf, freezing even under the sun. "Am I clean yet?"

Her fingers wrap tighter around the hose. The image of Ophelia wet and on her knees, her face pouty, water dripping down her body in rivulets will forever be ingrained in her mind. "I don't know." She flashes a wicked smirk down at the woman. "You look dirty from up here."

Ophelia goes to stand but is stopped by a foot on her thigh. "Did I say you could get up?"

"No?" Ophelia lowers back down, hands folded patiently in her lap even as water pelts her in the neck.

A minute passes where Ophelia stares up at Samantha, silently pleading to be allowed up. "Stand up, but don't run away." Samantha turns the hose away. "I'll catch you if you try."

Mud slides down her knees. It sloshes into her shoes. Water sprays at her legs again. Ophelia turns around so that the back can get the same treatment. The water shuts off. A warm hand wraps around her wrist and tugs. "Come on, let's get you inside." She follows behind quietly, too embarrassed to speak.

She is ashamed of the way her body reacted. Samantha was nice enough to help her and all Ophelia can think about is how good it felt when the water was hitting her center. Then when Samantha said she would catch her if she ran, Ophelia's stomach jumped. She didn't understand why that interested her. The idea of being chased by Samantha. It sent shivers through her. She feels like a bad friend.

Up three flights of stairs, Samantha never let go of her wrist. She had glanced back over her shoulder a time or two to check on Ophelia, but she seemed lost in thought. Probably too cold to speak, she thinks to herself. She had to admit, Ophelia's skin was ice cold.

Outside room 301, Samantha finally drops her wrist. "Go inside and get dry." She nudges her forward.

Suddenly, Ophelia spins on her heel. She lunges forward, wrapping her arms around Samantha. "Ha! If I have to get wet then so do you." She clings to her, pressing close.

Samantha gasps from the wet feeling of Ophelia's body against hers. It's cold and clammy, like a fish. A very happy and giggly fish. The woman wrapped around her is laughing like a maniac, squishing her body into hers. Samantha can't muster up an excuse to complain.

Instead, she lowers her hands to Ophelia's hips. She grips them tight and then pulls their hips together. She grins salaciously into her neck, face hidden. "Such a dirty girl, Ophelia." Her leg slips between the others.

Taking the hands on her hips to mean that Samantha was trying to push her off, she gripped harder, using her legs to get a hold of the other. "Now you're dirty and wet too." She grins, stuffing her face into the redhead's shoulder.

"It takes more than this to get me wet." Samantha hauls Ophelia up, wrapping the younger's legs around her waist. In the process, she shoves the other up into the wall. Ophelia's face is red.

Her face burns, Ophelia is surprised the water isn't turning into steam. Their position, with her legs around Samantha's waist and the woman's hands on her bottom. If anyone were to see they would think that the two of them were up to no good. And what did Samantha mean about getting her wet?

Not wanting to tarnish Samantha's reputation, Ophelia tries to wriggle out of her hold. The other holds steadfast. "Samantha let me down." She rests her hands on her shoulders to stop falling when Samantha suddenly moves.

"Done playing?" She grins up at Ophelia.

Ophelia rolls her eyes. "Yes, I'm done." Samantha lowers her to the ground but keeps her hands on her hips still. She lifts a brow, and Ophelia knows what she wants. "Thank you, Samantha."

Flashing a wink, Samantha let's go. She watches Ophelia enter her apartment, a smile on her lips.

_________________________________________________________

Rain pelts the windows, as the wind howls outside. All week it has been nonstop rain and thunderstorms. Thunder roars outside. It shakes the building while the flights flicker overhead.

Dr. Davis calls for Ophelia from inside the storeroom closet.

"Yes, Dr. Davis?" She pokes her head around the corner.

Dr. Davis and Dr. Porter carry buckets. "Switch these out with the ones filled in the classrooms and hallways." She takes the stack of buckets from them. It tilts as it towers a foot over her head.

"You got it." She gives them a thumbs-up and staggers back around the corner.

Ophelia replaces 2 buckets in the hallway. She opens the side door, dumping out the excess water. It's torrential rain this morning. She can barely see the woods through the heavy rain. A bucket is placed in the boys' restroom upon finding a massive puddle leaking out. A small stream was being created, Ophelia had feared that it was something else besides water. She switches the bucket in Mr. Roger's room, waving at the students as she goes.

She had worn overalls today after seeing the rain from her window. Every day for the last week, Ophelia's shoes got ruined the moment she stepped outside. Not to mention her slacks and skirts that suffered as well. Today she came prepared. She wears her rainboots, a heavy raincoat, and overalls to counter the weather. Faculty and staff are supposed to follow the dress code. However, Ophelia valued her comfort over the rules. This morning she arrived at the school relatively dry, save for her shoulders and face. She considered it a win.

One last bucket is in her hand. Ophelia walks down the hall, boots squeaking. She finds the final bucket, water just barely brushing the rim. It's in the stairwell.

"FiFi is that you?" She looks up to see her Aunt Azalea's upper body haphazardly leaning far over the railing on the next floor up. "I would recognize those awful red boots anywhere." She walks down the stairs, a wide smile glued to her features.

"Good morning." Ophelia picks up the filled bucket. It sways, sloshing water over her boots. Her Aunt wears jeans and a Highland Academy sweatshirt. Looks like she had also gone for casual, even though it's Wednesday. "Wonderful weather we're having, eh?"

Aunt Lea snorts, grabbing the other side of the handle. Together they walk the bucket down the steps. "There's a hurricane that hit the Carolinas. Said it was a class 4, we'll be getting rain for the next 5 days."

They reach the bottom. "It's been 5 days already." She snaps, pouring the bucket outside. Ophelia takes a seat on the stairs, "All my shoes are soggy."

Her Aunt takes a seat beside her, stretching out her legs in the process. "My convertible flooded." At Ophelia's raised brow she elaborates. "You know it's like 20 years old. Sometimes if there's heavy rain like the last few days it can't handle it and the water leaks inside."

"Did you at least get a tarp?" Ophelia pulls her phone out when it chimes. It's a text message from Erica.

"Yeah, but the damage is done." She places her head on her niece's shoulder. "So I wanted to ask, can I borrow your car this weekend?"

She replies to the message, smiling at the selfie her best friend sent. It's of Erica in the pediatric unit, she's in a room surrounded by blue and pink swaddles. Ophelia pats her pocket, fumbling for her keys. "Here." She hands them to Aunt Lea and goes back to texting.

"That was easy." She takes the keys, standing with a hiss as her knees pop.

"I rarely ever drive." She shrugs, standing as well. They part ways with a promise to meet up for dinner soon.

Ophelia sits on the couch, watching Jonathan and Judy argue over which history teacher is better; Mr. Flesh or Dr. Bradley. She scoops more vanilla ice cream onto her spoon along with the piping hot blueberry pie. She chuckles when Judy tosses a balled up napkin at her son.

"He didn't know the year that the Civil Rights movement began!" She throws her hands up in frustration, "Have you heard the man talk? He thinks feminism is fake news."

Ah, yes, Dr. Bradley. The 2nd Amendment whistle-blower in the history department. Ophelia had only spoken to him once, and it was enough. He commented on her "CHANGE" shirt, explaining that climate change was a lie told by the liberals to control them. She laughed in his face and quickly walked away before her fist connected with his face.

"But his paper on mandatory religious theory in schools is brilliant," Jonathan swats the napkin away.

"Mr. Flesh smells better than him." She adds to the argument. "Plus he's married to Dr. Porter." She smiles at the teen, "I thought she was your favorite teacher?"

His cheeks pink and he turns away from their twin smirks. They absolutely had him. "She is! That doesn't mean I can't have another favorite."

Judy clears her throat, taking Ophelia's empty bowl even though she protests. "Jon, go wash up for bed."

"You just don't want to talk about it anymore because you know I'm right." He stalks off, pie forgotten.

Ophelia takes up his bowl and scraps the pie into the trash. "Does he watch Andrew Tate?"

Judy throws her head back and laughs. "Hell no! I would die if Jon ever watched him." She takes the bowl and adds it to the dishwasher. "Although, he watches Joe Rogan sometimes. Dr. Bradley made them watch his podcast one day."

She shudders in disgust. "Oh no, poor kid." She washes her hands while Judy takes a seat on the barstool. "He could watch anyone else and he chooses him?"

"I tried to put him on the murder mystery podcast I listen to but Jon said it was lame." She rolls her eyes. "How can murder be lame? The gym videos he watches are lame."

Ophelia barely refrains from outright laughing at Judy. The woman is a complete riot sometimes. "I don't know Judy, but hey, thanks for dinner." She pats her on the back. "The weather alert said it's supposed to be bad tonight so light some candles in case the power goes out."

Judy sends Ophelia on her way with Tupperware containers full of chicken alfredo and blueberry pie. The woman even stands at the door until Ophelia unlocks her apartment door and is safely inside. She places the containers in the fridge, looking forward to the leftovers for tomorrow.

It's the middle of the night when Ophelia is awoken by the loudest boom ever. It claps dangerously overhead, shaking her room. The picture frames on her wall vibrate as another boom joins the whispering echo of the last. Instantly, Ophelia is grasping for her phone to turn on the flashlight. She already knows the power is off. Just to be sure she tries to switch on her bedside lamp. It doesn't turn on.

At 24 years old, Ophelia is proud to say she got over her fear of the dark years ago. Except the dark shadows cast on her room from the lightning strike outside have her screaming for her mother. She jumps from the bed, making a break for the door. She slams into the bedroom door, still screaming. She breaks out into the living room where the shadows are larger. Ophelia runs to the solo beanbag, reaching for the candle and lighter on the coffee table. She lights it, frantically looking around the room. She clutches her phone in her right hand and the candle in her left. As she trembles on the beanbag, another flash of lightning lights up the room from the windows lining the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a dark shape. Instead of looking, Ophelia lets out a blood-curdling scream. She drops the candle and the phone, racing to the front door. With no light, she rams her shoulder into the door, shaking and flinging it open.

She runs out of the room, slamming the door closed. It's pitch black in the hallway. Ophelia's heart races inside her chest, and she's about to say screw it and knock on Judy's door to ask to spend the night when a door behind her creaks open. She backs away, hand on the wall. Sending a prayer, Ophelia raises her arms, her fight or flight instincts activating.

Suddenly a light beams at her and she starts swinging. She keeps punching at the figure, screaming madly. "Get away! Get away, murderer!"

"What the fuck?" The light drops as whoever was holding it shields themself from her fists. "Ophelia stop!"

"I'm not dying tonight!" She pinwheels her arms, no thoughts in her head except fear.

Hands grab her wrists and pin them to her sides. "Ophelia stop." Her mind swarms with the possibilities of the stranger that will likely kill her now. "Ophelia, I'm not going to kill you, spank you maybe, but not strangle you." The person shakes her back and forth.

"What?" She stops fighting, the adrenaline fading. "Samantha?" Is that you?"

The hands holding her squeeze briefly. "Yes, can I let you go without you trying to punch me in the face?" It's too dark to see her face, so Ophelia whispers a quiet yes to the other.

"Samantha, there is someone in my room." She grabs her arm, hiding behind the woman.

She bends down and grabs her flashlight. "Are you sure you didn't have a nightmare and dream it up?" Ophelia follows her every move, linking their arms together.

"No! I woke up to the thunder so I went to light a candle. I saw a shape in the corner of my eye so I ran." She grips the arm tighter, leaning closer. "I barely escaped with my life."

Samantha turns the light on her, momentarily blinding her. "You are so dramatic, you know that." She walks to room 301. "Want me to check?"

She tugs the other away from the door. "No, don't. I don't want you to get hurt." Ophelia shakes her head.

Samantha places her hand over Ophelia's and gingerly pries it off. "Let me check to give you some peace of mind." She reaches behind her and brings out a black object.

Ophelia gasps, backing away. "Is that a gun?"

"Yes, and before you ask why I have it, maybe think about the last 5 minutes." Samantha points the flashlight at her. "I woke up to you screaming like a mad woman, so I grabbed it. I thought you were in danger."

That statement makes Ophelia's chest warm. "Oh my gosh, you were prepared to shoot someone for me?"

Samantha stares at her for a second. "I'm not answering that." She opens the door to 301. Gun cocked down and flashlight up. Ophelia follows close behind, pinching the woman's shirt between her fingers. They do a full sweep of the apartment and find no one.

"Is this what scared you?" Samantha points the light at the stack of boxes in the corner.

Ophelia blushes. She had forgotten about those. "Maybe."

"Alright, well your apartment is safe. Go back to bed." She starts to walk back to the front door. Ophelia chases her, grabbing her shirt again.

"Wait..." She stares down at her white socks. "Can you stay a bit longer?"

The other sighs. "Grab a pillow."

"Huh?" Ophelia raises her head to see Samantha rubbing her face tiredly.

"Grab a pillow, I only have one on my bed." She gestures down the hall to Ophelia's bedroom.

Surprised, Ophelia goes and gets her pillow, afraid that if she isn't fast enough, Samantha would leave her alone in the dark. She grabs a pillow and blanket, and as an afterthought, remembers to get her phone from the beanbag in the living room. Luckily, the flame of the candle blew out when she dropped it.

"Ready." She finds Samantha at the front door, head against the wall. "Are you good?"

Samantha grabs her arm, "I'm sleepy, it's 4 A.M. and we have work in the morning." They cross the hall to room 302. Samantha opens her door and locks it behind them. "Come on."

The layout is similar to her apartment, except switched around. Ophelia's bedroom is to the left while Samantha's is to the right. She leads her down the hall and enters the bedroom. Samantha turns the flashlight off, placing her gun away.

"You can have the left side of the bed." The older woman flops on the mattress, curling up under the many covers. Ophelia is still in the doorway, a bit uncomfortable. When Samantha pats the bed, she moves, going to the left side.

True to her word, Samantha only has 1 pillow on her bed. Although the pile of blankets and comforters clearly make up for it. It's like a mountain. Ophelia slips quietly under the covers, holding her blanket close and laying her head on her pillow.

"Samantha?" She whispers into the dark with her back to the other.

Samantha groans and shifts. "What?"

Ophelia shifts, turning over. In the weak light from the window, she can see that Samantha is on her back, blue eyes on her. "Thank you for coming for me."

A hand lifts from under the blankets. Samantha cups her cheek, thumb stroking underneath her eye. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." She slowly retracts her hand.

Ophelia grabs it in hers. She clings to it like a lifeline. "Goodnight." She falls asleep with Samantha's hand clutched in hers, against her heart. 

So sorry everyone for the late update. I started a new job! So the entire month of June I was in training working 40 hours a week. For the first time in my life, it was hard since I'm used to PT and not FT. 

ALSO! I tried to live my hot girl summer out and write by the pool on my laptop. Yeah, I dropped my laptop when a wasp flew and landed on my arm. I ended up running and jumping into the water. Thankfully without the laptop! But it did take a tumble and wouldn't turn on for the longest time! I have no money to purchase a new one but it literally just turned on a few days ago and I'm amazed. 

Hope you all liked this!