“They say that she’s going crazy.” Jack whispered to Patrick as the door closed behind them.
She looked normal, like she usually did. She was laying on the couch upside down lost in the lyrics of the music that blared from her speakers. There was nothing new or peculiar about her.
“Scarlett…” Jack said softly.
“No.” She said flipping herself over onto the floor. He bright green eyes locked into his. “I can’t control myself. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’ll be okay, Scar. We don’t believe them.” Patrick comforted.
“You should.” She whispered. “Will you please get me some orange juice?”
As Patrick left the room Scarlett scrambled to get back on the couch next to Jack. “He’s wants to end me. He thinks I’m suffering and he wants it to end. I have to stop him.” She screamed and ran out of the room.
Jack was concerned, maybe something was wrong.
Scarlett rushed back into the room pacing in small circles. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…”
“Calm down. What’s wrong Scar?” Jack asked running to her side, holding her still.
“I killed him! He tried to light me on fire by throwing gasoline on me so I hit him in the face with a brick and then I shoved him into the well! Smell it! Smell the gasoline!” Scarlett screamed falling to the floor
But there wasn’t a well anywhere near here, and she smelled of citrus. Jack, in all this confusion, was about to ask Scarlett to retell him the story when Patrick walked into the room carrying a towel and a glass of juice.
“No!” Scarlett screamed. “You’re dead! He’s not real, Jack! Look at the blood dripping down his face and my crimsoned stained hands! I killed him! He’s gone!”
“I spilled the juice on her shirt, and she tried to punch me so I ran to go get a towel to clean up the mess.” Patrick told Jack.
Jack took her pale shaking hands and tried to calm her down, but it was useless. The sweet Scarlett they once knew was gone.