Chapter Text
Tabitha I
-... You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me- Tabitha says, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes in deep annoyance.
- Wish I was, Miss Scarlet- says the bus driver, pulling back his baseball hat (with a Local Team Locals logo) and scratching his head- but the last person on the bus got off at the last stop. Left his nasty peanuts behind soaking the seat and everything. Could that have been your cousin? Scrawny looking, chatty fella with dark hair?
Tabitha isn’t desperate enough to engage in this pointless theorizing. Best to face facts as facts, and not feed into delusions and excuses for her flakey cousin. She raises her palm, signaling for the driver to stop talking.
- Whatever, fuck them.
Tabitha never met her cousin, another thing she can thank Vivian for. ‘I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the runaway tree’, she thinks to herself before walking back to her BMW without bothering to say goodbye to the Bus Driver. She slams the black metal door and drops her forehead on the steering wheel.
Why does she even care? It’s not like Vivian’s kid would make any difference. Her mother is still just as dead, and she still has just as much of a mine to run. The town relies on her just as much and it’s not like Pearleanne deserves someone to mourn her. She doesn’t care, she doesn’t need them. If anything she’d be even angrier if they did show up, probably with that big city entitlement, another Scarlet to look down on her every move. Maybe they’d be a creep that likes to talk to animals, or a marijuana user stinking up her place.
But… she still rests her head on the steering wheel and feels tears beginning to form in the edges of her eyes. She didn’t realize how much she was hoping that she wouldn't be the last Scarlet around. She didn’t realize how much she fantasized about a new person coming to town and finally taking the spotlight away from her. She didn’t realize how much of her hope was hanging on there being another set of shoulders to help carry the weight of this god forsaken name. She didn’t realize how much more haunted the estate feels now that it’s only her. But she realizes now that she’s truly alone, and the realization hits like a pile of rocks to her chest.
And there comes the panic. As someone used to crushing her emotions into a tiny ball, she can never register what she’s feeling at any given moment. But she notices her hand shaking as she fastens her seat belt. She feels her lip quivering but she doesn’t feel cold. She feels her breath heavy. Inefficient, she draws air almost in vain, like she’s buried in one of her mines. Her mind races and she can tell it’s going so fast that she cannot control her expression’s and body language like she usually does. She thanks god for the dark tinted windows to keep anyone from being able to see her make a scene.
She allows herself one shaky exhale, as the panic rises in her eyes. But the tear that slides down her cheek is already too much. She grips the steering wheel tighter and tighter, as if suffocating every ounce of sadness. She directs all her energy away from her thoughts and into her hands, which begin to turn pale from the effort. Now she's done it, she swung back to anger. Good. Anger she can use to move, to do her job. Sadness is for people with vacations and days off. Panic is for people who can afford to be held. Tabitha Scarlet has a job to do. So she starts her car and mutters to herself.
- Fuck them
And back to the Scarlet Mine she goes.