OPHELIA

Visuals

Harper decided it was time to stop procrastinating. Sighing, she got behind a table. Dropping her bag next to her, she took out her textbooks and got to work. She spent a total of three hours cramming information into her brain. Sadly, nothing seemed to stuck.

Harper yawned.

She became restless, her eyelids heavy. Balancing her head with one hand, she flipped through her textbook with the other. In time, she began to doze off.

"Hey."

"Jesus-" Harper rose a hand to her chest. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Chace's eyebrows lifted and his lips curled up slightly at the ends. He pointed upwards. "I was putting books away upstairs," he explained. "Sorry, I startled you."

"It's fine," she glanced at her phone. "Oh shit, I'm late!"

"Late?"

Harper grabbed her books, frantically shoving them into her backpack. She took her cellphone and began dialing a number.

"Rose, yes I know I should've been there half hour ago." Harper cradled the phone between her neck, ushering Chace out of the way, she continued gathering her things.

"Rosie," Harper said, through gritted teeth. "Stop yelling! I will get there, as soon as I can."

She ended the call.

"Everything okay?"

"My friend's performing at this bar tonight. If I don't get there in time I'm dead."

"I could take you," Chace said.

Blinking, Harper took in his offer. 

"Seriously," she said. "You'd do that?"

He shrugged. "It's no big, just tell me where it is."

"It's twenty minutes away, from the campus. If we hurry I'll make it in time."

Chace drove a blue Prius, not the ideal car for a collage male. Yet, he drove it with pride. He had named it October, paying tribute to the month he'd bought it in.

At the time, Chace thought it was rather clever. Looking back at it now, it seemed stupid.

"So what's your major?"

"Psychology," he replied. "You?"

"History, though I'm also doing the sciences. Biology - a minor in Physics... To be honest, I'm clueless when it comes to choosing a career after college. I'm just doing the subjects I love."

Harper decided to shift the topic of conversation. She listened keenly, as Chase gushed about the wonders of psychology. She took note of the glint in his eyes when he spoke, she found his boyish grin attractive.

She stopped herself before her mind drifted any further. The last thing she need was a complicated relationship between her and Chace, or any relationship for that matter. He was her boss - only for a few weeks - still, she had to prevent herself from doing something stupid.

Thinking about his smile; that was stupid. Being in such an enclosed space with him; that was moronic.

"This is where your friend's performing?"

Club Aurora, a place of loud music and wild fun. It definitely wasn't Harper's scene - at least not anymore - she came to support her friend. Then, she could leave and never come back.

"You okay," Chace asked, concern.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded.

Let's get this over with.

Harper ran out of the car, yelling good bye. She rushed up a couple flight of stairs and darted by the guard at the door. As the club doors swung open the bass line of the live band made the place shook and the club patrons rock to the music as if they were somehow hypnotized.

The speakers vibrated and played on Harper's heart like a drum.

She desperately looked around for Rose. Peering through the cloud was a bright red sweater which was notorious for its vibrance; it belonged to her friend. Harper cleverly weaved herself among the crowded dance floor to get to Rose.

She pounced on her.

"You're late!" Rose yelled, startled.

"I know, sorry," She said above the music. "I'm just glad Chace gave me a ride."

"Chace?"

"Don't even start Rosie."

Meanwhile, Isaac was backstage running over a few chords and perfecting his finger rhythm, for his performance. He slowly passed his hand through his hair and took a peek outside. He saw saw Harper and Rose at the front and flashed a smile. They waved in response.

At that moment the music faded and the MC came onstage and started to interact the with the crowd. Everyone was laughing and having a good time; He then blurted at the top of his voice;
"Introducing our performer - y'all know and love 'em - Isaac!"

All of a sudden, lights began to flash and sparks were blasted into the air, there was barrage of colours. The atmosphere of the club changed and then the melody of the bass guitar could be heard. The club trembled and then the drums, rhythmic guitar and keyboard joined in and played in harmony.

Isaac walked on stage and began to sing and the whole club began to dance. Harper and him locked eyes, the power of his voice overwhelmed her. She couldn't fight the urge anymore and started to dance. Rose was also lost in the music, busy rocking her curvaceous hips and enjoying herself.

In the midst of her enjoyment, Harper's back connected with something hard.

It was man.

He was short, yet muscular. Looking too old to be in a place jam-packed, with college students. He smelt fowl - like a pack of old gym socks - garnished, with  fresh chipped wood.

Harper offered a light apology. The man coiled his nose at her in response, then stalked away.

She fixated on his back, watching the man as he pushed through the crowd. Harper had a bad feeling at the pit of her stomach, her stance became wobbly. She clutched onto Rose for support, only to drag them both down.

"Ow! Harper, what the fuck?"

Harper blacked out.

She saw the same guy from the club standing next to saw mill. He idly laid some wood unto the conveyer belt, watching them get torn to pieces. When the first batch was done he repeated the process.

With each new batch he developed a routine. He'd spin or twirl some wood around to liven things. Everything was fine, until he messed up.

While bending to pick up a piece he dropped, he felt a strong tug on his shirt.  It was stuck in the cog wheel and he found himself being pulled along unto the conveyer belt. He struggled and attempt to free himself.

But the more he struggled; the more the cog wheel pull his shirt. He could hear the grinding and crushing of wood, as they passed the saw.  Spikes of pain ran up his hand, as the saw sliced off his right thumb.

He yelled for help.

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