What Lurks Below

~Chapter 2~

Ophelia shifted against the couch cushions, burrowing her back deeper into the break between the two pillows. The grey sofa, pulling Ophelia deeper, she snatched a blanket off the arm, observing the dents from finding herself there a decent amount of the time being home alone. Moving out and being on her own, what she imagined doing from the age of twelve. Finding a parent's love doesn't last when one is dead. It wasn't like Ophelia didn't know, her mother, Harriet only loved her to match her father's love. Until he passed away.

Ophelia pushed against the cushions, standing herself up on the tan carpet. Careful steps to the kitchen and to the stove. Flicking the front burner on. Lifting a palm, she grabbed the coffee pot, inconvenient to have warm water with the stove to enjoy a cup of coffee but inexpensive so Ophelia couldn't complain too much. Opened the cabinet to grab the tin can. Generously scooped coffee into the now boiling liquid, causing steam to rise upward.

Flipping the fan on above the stove catching a glimpse of the conversation the black box was spitting.

"That's right Jim, The journal is going to be displayed in the Granados Museum" The reporter absently spoke, the other reporter on the tv far off in some other world. God would that be nice, running off and reporting back to continue to enjoy a vacation? childish, its only childish.  She said to herself listening to it half-ass.

Hands reached around the handle, pouring black coffee into a small mug, print of a library from her hometown almost vanished completely. Turning to add a few scoops of sugar and fill the rest up with French vanilla creamer. Mostly creamer to a small mug of coffee, Ophelia moved to the refrigerator, placing the creamer back onto its empty shelf. Fingers opened the freezer, snatching up a handful of ice. Plopping them in one by one.

She opened the fridge again, bare shelves with nothing but a few fruits and vegetables. Shit, I have got to go to the grocery store this week. Or I'm going to die of boredom from the same shit over and over again. Ophelia noted, writing herself a note on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. She turned back over to the stove, flicking the nob to where the red circles disappeared on the stovetop.

Ophelia scratched at her blonde bun, hairs releasing themselves from the captivity. Granados, Granados, Grandados. The name so familiar, as if she'd heard it before. The muesem was fairly new, the Granados family being the ones who built in it in the first place. Why we're they the ones that took the journal? Did they have some sort of plan for the journal itself? Ophelia wasn't sure and decided to brush it off, walking off down the small hallway of her apartment.

Her hand swung the door open, snatching her phone up. Tapping on the screen, her eyes widened to several text messages from a group chat she hadn't been a part of before. Looking at the phone numbers she recognized a few, Eden, Elenor, and Katherina. A blocked number she knew instantly who it was, Ronald. Jesus Christ, this is going to be a shit show with him in the group chat. Little bastard can't keep his zipper up.

A message came across the screen, hey! I'm one of Katherina's friends my name is Florence! I was wondering if we all could meet up? Tell me where and I'll be there!

Bubbles appeared across the screen, typing. Disappearing and reappearing. Message sent, Eden's message. Sure, we normally meet at Billies, Katherina isn't working today so we can meet there since it's easier.

Ophelia pushed her nerves down, just message the chat back. Tell them you can't make it, maybe then she wouldn't have to see Ronald. Eden sent a private message, it's fine, don't worry about Ronald. I won't let him touch you, I promise.

His words were comforting, Ronald couldn't touch her with Eden around.

Ophelia slumped on the bed, her body laying back onto the several blankets, pillows, and random chargers scattered on the bed. Staring up with blue eyes, shrinking in fear. Ophelia grabbed clothes nonchalantly and put them on, tank top, ripped shorts that were a bit too tight, and sandals.