It felt as if Ophelia’s life had changed overnight. As if it was only yesterday that she had been a child, atop her one of her father’s knees, her brother on his other, youthful bliss in their hearts, their mother smiling at them from across the room. Now her brother was gone, miles away at college, her mother was six feet underground and her father...Did she even know her father? He had once been her hero, she had believed that he had loved her mother above all else but her mother had barely been cold before Polonius’s eyes wandered towards other women and it didn’t take long after that to cast their sights on recently widowed Gertrude.
Now it was her last summer before she left for college, just as Laertes did four years previous. Before he left there had been parties and celebration – she had none of that – and of course their yearly vacation with Hamlet’s family. Hamlet, how she missed him, how her heart longed to see him again. Perhaps that is was why she had taken to riding her bike to his old old house – a route that she knew as well as the back her hand – when the sound of her father and Gertrude’s fornication became too much for her to bare.
The ride towards Hamlet’s house soothed her, reminded her of happier times when she would often ride to the Hewson’s house and sneak up to Hamlet’s window. But now Hamlet was long gone, she hadn’t seen him since his father’s funeral, and all Ophelia was left with were memories.
The Hewson house had been empty for months how, ever since Gertrude had moved in with Ophelia and her father. It made Ophelia’s heartbreak a little bit every time she saw the elegant house sitting empty and lifeless, so she was surprised to see a single window lit up. Hamlet’s window.
She quickly jumped off her bike, abandoning it on the front lawn without a second thought and bounded towards the front door. As she was expected, it was unlocked and she felt her heart skip a beat. “Hello,” She yelled, looking around her for signs of life as she headed towards the stairs. “Is anyone here?”
