Aces Wild (House of Cards Ser...

Ophelia closed her eyes and let the hot water of her shower wash over her face and skull. It had been the strangest sensation to get used to after shaving her head. It surprised her how much hair had dampened the pounding of water against her head before, and it's lack of barrier now let the water pummle the skin on her scalp until it tingled. Her hands wiped the water droplets from her eyelashes and chased them down her face until she hit her breasts. Her hands stopped there, not at all sexual but instead trembling. She wasn't an overly well endowed woman, but she knew that her figure had caused some jealousy growing up. The pale, cold and aloof little girl had hit puberty and followed the genetic pattern of the James family; she'd gone goregous. But Ophelia had never really cared about her appearance. Not in the dress like a slob way, but  she simply took care of herself and refused to give her appearance a more important role in her life than things like intelligence, care for loved ones and her ambition to succeed.

And now those physical assets she had never really cared about were killing her. Suddenly she wished that the mastectomy was the solution. Losing her breasts would be far more appealing than knowing that it was too late. The pain and fatigue, the headaches... her constant nausea and the chemotherapy. It was all for nothing. Her spine was turning into swiss cheese, her liver was lumpy and her brain might be turning into pudding. No. I won't go through that. I won't slip away and die as a shadow of my former self. I can't live with dignity but I will die with a little dignity. And my family will not suffer through my deterioration. Ophelia promised herself fiercely.

She forced the shaking in her hands to stop and swallowed against the emotions that were trying to choke her again. Ophelia was not going to wallow in self pity and let her emotions rule her now after a lifetime of being in control of them. Her shoulders squared back, her chin lifted and Ophelia left her hands drop down. She knew how to handle the next step and really there was no reason to hesitate. It would be a shock to everyone but it was better to let them grieve now and get it over with than drag out the inevitable.

It felt so easy for her to turn off the water and shake free the little droplets clinging to her like failed dreams. The air was cold against her skin but that was nothing new anymore; she was always feeling the cold and now it matched the chill she carried inside. There was no fear as she stepped out of the shower, walking over to the mirror of her bathroom. The reflection that stared back at her was a stranger’s gaunt face. She had the palest blonde hair; a short, downy soft matte, only just attempting to grow back and doomed to fall out again soon. The woman’s face was all sharp angles, not a sexy and defined cheekbone but a skeletal mask of skin and bones. Her eyes were sunken and lifeless, her lips nearly bloodless and the faint pulse of her heart beat was obvious in the trembling skin on her neck. The skin stretched over the bones of her collar bone was pasty and sallow, the blue of her veins startlingly obvious and macabre. “Who are you?” Ophelia asked her reflection softly.

A deep sense of disgust welled up in her and she opened the medicine cabinet, not wanting to see herself any longer. As her chemotherapy had progressed her doctors had given her all kinds of sleeping medication to help her rest and ‘recover’. She’d never really taken them because she slept enough as it was it seemed. Now that meant she had more than enough sleeping pills to do the job she required. Except that as Ophelia searched her medicine cabinet, not a single bottle of the sleeping pills was still there. She’d checked the other day, an almost OCD compulsion to keep her medicine bottles lined up and organized as her world continued to spiral out of her control. It also helped ensure that she had the right medicine in hand for the necessary moments. And yet they weren’t here now. And she could see the blank spaces in the row of bottles where they used to be. “Nathaniel.” Ophelia snarled his name softly.

Somehow he’d figured it out before she even had. After carrying her into the apartment bridal style and setting her on her bed (which had given her all kinds of strange misgivings and mixed signals), he had gone to the bathroom. And that’s probably when he swiped the bottles to keep her from doing exactly what she had been planning on doing. But how had he known? And how dare he make that kind of decision for her! Ophelia closed the medicine cabinet with a little extra force, and then processed to aggressively dry herself off with a towel. If she had looked in the mirror then, the reflection wouldn’t have seem so strange. The anger flashing in her eyes at his audacity gave them life and her skin flushed rosy with the chafing from her towel.

Ophelia wrapped herself up in a large, warm housecoat, cinched the waist belt tightly and stormed out of the bathroom to have a few words with the interfering Nathaniel Spade Vega. He was sitting on her bed, waiting as if he was expecting this reaction and in his hands was the empty bottle of sleeping pills. “You have no right to try and control my actions!” Ophelia hissed at him, the intensity of her emotions seeming not to surprise the younger man at all.

Nate looked up at her and the heartbreak in his eyes stopped the rest of her tirade. “I know. And you can hate me for it all you want. I just…” he looked down at the bottle in his hands.

“I have the right to die with a little dignity Nathaniel.” Ophelia tried to reason with him, knowing that this would be a hard concept for him to accept. But it was her body, her life and she had the right to deem when she stopped fighting to stay alive.

“You can live with dignity. Death… it’s simply an ending.” Nate replied. Ophelia pursed her mouth over a retort, realizing that this was a quote they had discussed in class once upon a time. The irony was that it had been her argument at the time. Before she’d learned that she was dying. Nathaniel sat in the silence of the room for a little longer.

“It’s my choice Nathaniel. I’m not content to be trapped in a body that is rotting around me, erasing all traces of who I really am.” Ophelia was surprised that she was even explaining herself to him. But somehow it seemed important, that at least one person knew before she did it.

“Can I make you a deal?” Nathaniel asked, looking up from the bottle in his hands. His eyes were glossy with unshed tears and a motley of emotional turmoil in his eyes. “Let us say goodbye. I’ll even stay here and hold your hand until you go on the day that you choose, but give us time to say goodbye.”

It surprised Ophelia that he wasn’t condemning her decision or begging her to reconsider. He was just instead asking for a little more time than today. It wasn’t what she wanted though. She knew that if she agreed, the others would hear about her condition and the pity and sadness she was trying to spare them all would descend anyways. She couldn’t deal with that indefinitely. But his request wasn’t unreasonable. And it would be somehow…comforting to not die alone. “You cannot tell anyone about this.” She stated firmly, a pang of guilt flaring up as part of her recognized the terrible burden she was putting on his shoulders. “And you have until the night of the Fall Ball. Everyone will be… distracted by then and it will be early enough that I won’t ruin anyone’s Christmas.” She decided, having a specific date in mind helped her feel more at ease. And scared, but her fear of death was not as big as her fear of living in a decaying body, of knowing that she was losing everything that had made her Ophelia James until she was nothing more than a meat husk of pain and sickness.

“Do you want a living wake?” Nathaniel asked, his tone saying that he accepted her conditions even if he didn’t outright say it.

“Do you think it would be easier on everyone or would it just… add to the emotional burden?” Ophelia asked, a little weirded out by discussing her own funeral. Joking about it earlier had been one thing but now it suddenly felt more real.

“I think it’s a fair chance to give everyone who matters a chance to say goodbye. It’s what, nine days left before you get these back?” Nathaniel retorted, shaking the pill bottle with a trace of anger in his voice. “You leave the details to me and I’ll get everyone there. It’ll be respectful, tasteful and I’ll try and make sure it’s not too depressing. But Ophelia, just because I… won’t fight with you on this and I won’t tell anyone of this little arrangement here and now, does not mean I will not try and convince you to keep living.”

Nathaniel stood up from the bed and walked over to Ophelia, the angry tension in his body almost keeping her rooted to the spot. She wasn’t afraid of him, Ophelia knew Nathaniel, she’d been there for every moment of his life in a way. Their ages were close enough that they’d always been close but far enough that she had never really seen him as a man. Until he was stalking towards her with an almost predatory aura around him. “There’s not much you can do to convince me to endure the coming months.” Ophelia felt obliged to say, a little caught off balance by his proximity as he loomed over her. What happened to the baby she had had so much trouble with? The little boy that had skinned his knees and cried?

“I will find a way to show you that living longer than the next nine days is worth it.” Nathaniel promised. “And I am starting right now. I need you to get on the bed.”

Ophelia felt her eyes go wide at his words and she felt a faint blush start to creep across her face. “Excuse me?”

“Ophelia. Get on the bed or I will carry you over there. Just trust me.” Nathaniel grinned down at her and despite her reservations, Ophelia found herself walking over to her bed. She just wasn’t entirely sure just what he had in mind and the unknown was making her heart race.