𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍
NOVEMBER 3RD, 1984

Scarlette was a whirlwind of desperation, her nails raking against the guard's face, a primal instinct to fight clawing its way to the surface. His yelp of pain was music to her ears as he dropped her, and she felt a rush of triumph surge through her veins. She thought she had slipped through the cracks, a wisp of smoke escaping the grip of a flame. But fate had other plans.

Before she could fully grasp her victory, another guard closed in from behind, his grip like iron as he yanked her hair, sending her crashing to the ground. Time seemed to slow as she fell, the world around her fading into a blur. Her head collided with the floor, pain radiating through her skull like a thunderclap. A whimper of frustration slipped from her lips, a string of curses barely audible as she rolled over, her body protesting with every movement.

Dizziness wrapped around her like a thick fog, light-headedness pulling her under. It was a familiar sensation, a harbinger of the seizures that lurked in the shadows of her mind. "No..." she whispered, the sound of Mike's frantic cries dissolving into the background, muffled like a distant echo. The ringing in her ears grew louder, drowning out all other noise as her vision swam.

Her body betrayed her, muscles twitching and spasming as she began to shake violently, the world slipping from her grasp. Foam bubbled at her lips, a grotesque reminder of her loss of control. It felt as though her mind was wrapped in a shroud, darkness seeping in, erasing all rational thought.

Time lost all meaning. The chaos around her faded, and she could do nothing but surrender to the onslaught of her own body. But then, as the storm within her began to ebb, she felt the gentle pressure of hands rolling her onto her side, a guiding touch pulling her back to safety.

Gradually, the world came back into focus, the harsh sound of sirens and alarms seeping into her awareness. When she looked up, it was Mike's face she saw, concern etched deep in his features. He helped her to her feet, urgency in his every movement as he ushered her back toward Will's room. The haze of confusion still clouded her mind, but she clung to his presence, a lifeline in the chaos, as they rushed into the sanctuary of familiar walls.

He settled her into the chair like a fragile porcelain doll, her world still swirling in confusion as the cacophony of chaos erupted around them. Will's voice sliced through the air, frantic and accusing, "Mike is lying!" His words echoed in her mind, but they felt distant, like a radio tuned to the wrong frequency. Scarlette just wanted the chaos to fade, wanted to close her eyes and drift away into the oblivion of sleep.

Bob approached, his expression a mixture of concern and forced levity. He gently patted her cheek, a comforting gesture meant to ground her. "No, stay up. I'm sorry," he chuckled, the sound warm but strained. His hand continued to tenderly pat her cheek, each touch a reminder that she was still here, still present in this whirlwind.