Anti-Hero Academy

One

Ophelia almost fell in the shower.

It wasn't her fault. Someone was banging on the door, and she jumped... a lot. She frowned, steadying herself against the tile wall and eyeing the bathroom door through the glass. There wasn't any voice to accompany the banging, only her rapid heartbeat in her ears; nevertheless, she rushed to rinse the conditioner from her hair.

Stepping out of the shower, she grabbed a towel. It may not have been the fastest method, but nothing beat the comfort the towels provided. It was a simple pleasure; one she normally didn't care too much about. It was highly possible Silvana would take personal offense to the fact that Ophelia had taken the softest ones this morning. The linen closet technically wasn't sectioned off by family members. Silvana had just made her fondness for the baby pink towels unforgettable. Unfortunately, Ophelia couldn't bring herself to particularly care this morning. She deserved a little comfort today. It was doubtful there would be any more for a long time.

Ophelia wrapped her hair up before securing another not-stolen towel around her body and opening the door. Her room was still dark, the first shreds of the dawn barely illuminating anything further than a gray glow. The tightness in her chest eased a bit. She wasn't running late as she had previously assumed. Perhaps she had imagined the banging. It wouldn't be the first time her nerves and imagination had fooled her.

That thought was cut off by a low, threatening voice. "The next time you wake up before your alarm," it said, "at least have the decency to turn the stupid thing off."

Ophelia rolled her eyes. Her shoulders relaxing as she walked over and turned on the light. She waited a moment before giving a reply. "Only you would sit brooding in the dark instead of going back to sleep," she said, turning to Enoch.

Her twin looked particularly irritated this morning– a feat for him as his resting state was a cross of apathy towards humanity and underlying rage. He glared at her from his position, sitting on her bed with his arms crossed and her phone on his lap. She noted that he was already dressed, a simple black t-shirt and dark jeans. For all the complaining she was about to hear, he had gotten ready himself before coming to bang on her door.

Ophelia didn't comment on the dark circles under his eyes. Hers probably matched anyway.

He watched her as she pulled a pair of underwear, a bra, and an oversized t-shirt from her drawers and headed back to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and waited for the list of complaints Enoch was bound to have been creating as he'd waited.

She waited for one minute. Two.

The complaints didn't come.

A frown pulled at Ophelia's mouth. Had he gone back to his room? The alarm must have irritated him more than she'd originally thought. She tried not to be disappointed at the idea. She didn't want to face this morning alone. The tightness in her chest returned at the prospect of Enoch being upset with her today of all days.

Clothed, she took a breath and began combing through the tangles in her hair. She was overreacting and she knew it. Even if she had made him genuinely angry— something she doubted the more she considered it— he wouldn't give her the silent treatment today. Not to her at least. If anything, this was just his own coping method to take his mind off looming hours of the near future. Tugging through the few knots left in her hair, she began mentally plotting out how to handle Enoch's irritation, thankful at least for a distraction this early in the morning.

She jumped when a tune started playing right outside the door, much louder than her phone speaker could be. Power spiked, burning down her arms and through her veins as she struggled to contain the tide of sheer panic she'd felt for a split-second. The room's shadows flickered. Her brush slipped from her hands, landing on her foot. Wincing, Ophelia took a breath, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. The faucet dripped in time with the pounding in her ears before she swung open the door. Enoch was still sitting in the same spot on her bed, her phone still in his lap. On the nightstand, her Bluetooth speaker blinked.