oh, mr president | H.S.

TWENTY TWO: Sweet Ole Family

[Author's Note: Below is a picture of Harry's family members for those who did not know! I didn't include them in the cast list, but I'll add them eventually! Also, there is a SPOILER for those who have not seen The Walking Dead as of yet, and would like to.]

[Enjoy the chapter! ;) - Dani xo]

☓ ☓ ☓

"Minds do not act together in public; they simply stick together; and when their private activities are resumed, they fly apart again." - Grover Cleveland

_________________

T W E N T Y T W O : Sweet Ole Family

The setting sun upon the horizon sparkled with luminous oranges and purple, coloring the clouds like a painted watercolor artist would. The palette blended well with the spring weather that was coming to a close in a few weeks. Ophelia thought it was shaping to have a moment of solid meditation with the sounds of nature before starting the day. It should conform your mind to serenity, but she could never reach such a high point as that.

Still struggling with placing tape over her open, mental wounds, Ophelia dug her dull nails into the exterior layer of her palm. There was no pain until she dug relatively deeper. She did not wince; the pain was something she would rather feel than allowing her mind to lose its hinges. When she finished the self abuse, there was a shape in her skin. She didn't care for it. In fact, she ignored it as if it did not happen.

The springs in the mattress of their upscale hotel room creaked. Her eyes could see Harry's body flipping and tossing at the loss of hers. She smiled gently, standing from the window cushioned seat, and padded her feet to the opposite side of the mattress. His eyes peeled open to view her; her knees went weak momentarily, but they recovered as they sunk into the sheets to lay beside him again.

"Good afternoon baby girl," Harry's gentle fingers brushed the growing strands of her pixie cut to the side. He was in awe of her nature, clear complexion, and he could not forget not a single detail. "How did you sleep in this awful bed?"

Her giggles were innocent, and calm like the world around her was not crumble to pieces. "Eh, I've had better," She replied sweetly.

"Oh, really?" His laughter was timeless, and still. Ophelia wanted to hear more of it, and watch the corner of his almond shape eyes crinkle with delight. She lifted herself to prop on his lap, running the texture of her hands against the familiarity of his skin. His eyes gleamed with relaxation, resting his head on one of his hands. "Are you sure you want to go to this dinner? We don't have to."