She didn't look up from the cracks in the sidewalk, nor did she turn down her street to go home. Instead, she just kept walking. She didn't have a particular destination in mind, but that was the upside of being the forgotten one. Or the ignored one, if you prefer. She had time to figure it out.

Nobody would stop her; nobody would be looking for her. They would just leave her be. In a few days or weeks, maybe even months, they might realize that she's not there, but she'll have figured it out by then. She'll be long gone. Of course, there's a half decent chance nobody will notice she's not around. She'll cease to exist in this backwater town entirely - as if she was never even there. If that was the case, who's to say that Ophelia Harrington ever existed in the first place? And isn't that a terrifying thought?

Of course her name, Ophelia Camille Marie Harrington, was the most memorable thing about her. It was rare, however, that anyone noticed her long enough to even get that far.

Ophelia wanted something better than the life she was currently living. She didn't always believe it, but sometimes, in the dead of night, a voice whispered in the farthest depths of her mind that she deserved better, too. She obviously wasn't going to get that by staying here, so she had to make a change. She knew she shouldn't have been, but Ophelia couldn't help but be surprised at the just how easily she was able to disappear. She could feel the knife in her back twisting, slow and painful. Vanishing without a trace should not have been so simple, so easy, so clean. Yet in this cruel place, surrounded by these cruel people who genuinely couldn't give less of damn, it was.

So on Ophelia walked, taking it step by step. She didn't have a place in mind, but she sure did have a feeling. She would keep her feet moving, step by step, until she found the place where she would be visible and celebrated. She would take it step by step until she felt confident that she never would vanish again.