3. Sinclair, Washington | Two
Scarlett, Where have you been? You're soaked." The blonde's, Scarlett's, mother hurriedly took her daughter into her chubby arms. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Scarlett. Get out of these clothes." Her mother left to the small closet like laundry room for a towel. Or towels. Scarlett swallowed the pool of spit that had gathered in her mouth. Reluctantly, Scarlett pulled the mudded shirt over her head. She discarded it onto the wooden floors. Her shaky hands worked on the button of her skirt. She peeled it off along with her undergarments. As if on que, Scarlett's mother came with a warm fluffy towel. Though Scarlett was very much taller than her mother, even for sixteen, she still managed to wrap the warmth around Scarlett. Her mother carefully sat Scarlett on their torn up sofa. "Darling, tell Mommy what happened." Scarlett snorted. Mommy. "I slipped." She lied gruffly. She had slipped a lot in the past two years. "Come here, baby." The mother sighed and pulled Scarlett into a warm, comforting hug. "I'm fine, mom. I promise.." The convincing tone wasn't enough. "I.. i think it's time you start seeing Doctor Token again, Scar. You can't keep doing these things." Her mother continued sadly. "It hurts me every time you do this, I hate having to worry about you being near anyone or sharp objects, pools, rivers. You need help, hon." The words cut through Scarlett like a knife. "No." She stood. "I won't." With that, she trotted upstairs to her room. Scarlett slammed the door. It was a wonder how it was still on hinges. She stifled a pained sob and dropped
The towel to her feet. Stepping over the fluffy ball of fabric, she opened her dresser and searched for clothes. At the bottom she spotted a pair of folded jeans with holes in the legs. Next to them were faded grey joggers. Bingo. She snatched them and then a sweater from it's
Hanger. She bumped the dresser closed with her hip. Scarlett's room consisted of a bed and dresser, a small vanity in the corner. The walls were painted green, but the cracks in the paint were apparent. As she collapsed onto the bed, her mind drifted back to the stranger at the creek. She could see the clothes, the person's hands, but never their face. She could make out that they were male, or at least that's how they dressed. They were built strong, Scarlett saw some brown hair. She closed her eyes and squeezed hard, trying to figure out who it was. It couldn't of been her brother, Jeffery, who moved out to months ago, plus Jeff was too scrawny. It may of been Tasha, she had brown hair and often had to wear hand-me-downs from her brother. But Tasha wouldn't of just disappeared, she would of stayed, called 911. And Tasha was a tiny thing, there's no way she could of pulled Scarlett out of the brook against the flowing waters. It was so frustrating. Who was this person? This mystery hero? And why.. Why save Scarlet? The whole town knows what she did by now, she deserved to die, didn't she?