More Janet lore drop! (pt. 2)
This is how she looks like before she "became" Janet, when she was still Ophelia. Old drawing so its like yeah.
Or, shall we talk about Ophelia for now?
Ophelia Yvette Harper. An aspiring student from University of California, the top school for medicine — well, now at the age of 3X, a surgeon well known for her miraculous hands (still, precise, and controlled) and genius verdicts.
How did she achieve this? She studied, and studied. And studied.
She did all this to please her mother — well, her late mother. Leaving Ophelia with being the sole caretaker of her younger brother at merely 19.
Her intensive studying and responsibilities made her lack a proper social life. In the hospital, she would seem cold and sturdy: however, she's just awkward inside — yearning for something meaningful.
But her career was what was meaningful. To Ophelia, her career was everything. It was all she was.
So it was such a shame when she lost it.
She didn't even know what happened to herself — perhaps it was the drugs. But she couldn't help it, the stress got too much. She could barely function, but she had no choice. She was the star surgeon of XXXXX Hospital, she had no choice but to get up every morning and perform. After all, there were so many people counting on her, so many lives.
In the operation room, at the moment of her episode, she felt like her body was moving by its own accord. It all felt like a blur — yet, she remembered every single second until they sedated her. She remembered how she had his warm intensines squirming in her hands, how she said they were too long, and cut them short. They splattered on the metal dish, making a thud. In her peripheral vision, she could see the other operator room members justified horrified expressions.
"What are you doing?! Hey!"
"Stop, stop! Please, stop it!"
"Ophelia, what the fuck?!"
She wore the intestines like a necklace... and smiled. Ophelia showed it off, as if to gloat. Somebody called security. Oh my, he wanted to take her necklace. Her precious necklace. That won't do, no, no.
She took her scalpel. More of those pesky security guards came in, and they held her constrained. The audacity. How could they do this to her? She was the surgeon of the operation room — highest rank of order.
"What are you doing...?!"
They should've listened to her. Why didn't they? They should've listened to her.
That was all she thought as she found herself bound onto a hospital bed, someone came up to her side and hurriedly sedated her with anesthesia. And that was it.
She made the papers; not that she'd know, she was in a mental asylum. At first, she was uncooperative, aggressive. She thought about how such a renowned surgeon she is, but here she was — thrown away. Did they not need her anymore? Was she not enough, after all these years of devotion?
She often picked fights, full of hatred and spite. Until, she saw one of her inmates thrown in a straitjacket for aggressive behaviour. That was a mind boggle to her. She realized, she would never escape if she was put in one. And there was no way she was staying in here. So then she acted docile, just a little bit out of it. She learned that that made other people lower their guard around her, and she took use of that to escape. Since then on, she always assumed a docile stance — always with a smile.
Her smile isn't necessarily fake. She takes amusement in the littlest of things. How a butterfly flaps its wings, how an ant carries food to its colony, and how a life spent slaving for the good of others can still make them turn away from you.
Truly, it is never enough. And it never will be.
And now it's Janet's turn.
