Heartless People

NINETEEN

Political languageis designed to make lies sound truthful, murder

respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.

—George Orwell

CAMILA

"Its as if time had stopped. The earth underneath my feet opened, and the devil himself reached up and pulled me into hell. I screamed, trying to reach for my husband in the midst of the chaos. I wanted to die, because I knew in my heart of hearts that he was gone. There was no undoing what I had seen—what America had seen! Only moments earlier, we sat in the back of the limo and my husband, President Franklin Monroe, told me how humbled he was to be a servant of this government, of you, the people. He told me his dreams for this country. Being from Texas, where everything is big, his dreams were even bigger. That is why I cannot stop to cry, to mourn, because all I can do is try to honor his dream until my last breath leaves my body."

One by one I watched as the people around us stood, some with tears glistening in their eyes, others ready to go to war for this woman. They were applauding, celebrating. I didn't want to stand, I didn't want to clap, all I wanted to do was take a steel bat to each
one of their faces.

"Smile and stand up, sweetie. Cameras are flashing," my Wife whispered, as she pulled me up. She was just as tense as I was.

"How can anyone take this woman seriously? Her hair is in the shape of a beehive," I muttered over to her.

"Her husband was the peoples leader. So now, shes the peoples widow, beehive or not. Clap."

Clapping in suppressed anger, I watched the brunette on stage smile and wave at her adoring audience.

We were losing. No amount of money could win the love of the people. And every time the bitch spoke, they loved her even more. She ate it up and kept speaking. She was only supposed to give a quick speech about this event, but now I felt like we were at a campaign rally.

"I would like to thank Senator Colemen,"  she added. For the first time, the man who we wanted to be president was actually focused on. "Many of you don't know this, but Senator Colemen and my husband were college roommates and good friends. When he found out Colemen was going to be running against him, he turned to me and said, He'd better still come over for Christmas when he loses. I hope you still do, even now." She proceeded to say.

"Always!" Senator Colemen laughed, rising to take his spot on the podium. "Thank you so much, Madam First Lady."

"I hate it when they're humble." Lauren sighed, returning to her seat along with most of the guests.

I followed suit.

Mina looked over the sea of tables quickly. "Where's Chris?"

"Hopefully fixing this shit", Veronica whispered, sipping his brandy as Lucy fought her hardest not to fall asleep. She looked worn out. I wasn't sure why; she hasn't done anything.

"Has Chris told any of you how he plans on fixing this?" Clara asked, flipping her white silk shawl over her shoulders.

"No,"  Mina hissed. "All I know is her highness here told him to shoot my father."

With the exception of Lauren and Michael, everyones eyes snapped to me. As if this was so surprising.

"Im all for it." Mrs. Colemen giggled, pouring herself another glass of wine.

"Mother!" Mina sneered, grabbing her hand. "You've had enough and we cannot seriously be talking about killing my father right now."

Raising her head off Veronica's shoulders, Lucy looked  around as well. "Chris wouldn't would he?"