Writer: warning! Child attempting suicide.

It was night time, and, if Scarlett's necklace was accurate (which it most likely was), around 1:30. Sam couldn't tell the exact time because all the numbers were written in a strange writing, like Danny's squiggles and doodles that he swore were English. With a yawn, Scarlett pulled out some blue tape with a pattern Sam couldn't make out, out of her pockets (Scarlett has very deep pockets!) and made a line across the floor and, with a jump (too high for a normal human to do) all the way up the walls and stuck tape along them.

"Right, gothy, I'm sleeping this side and your sleeping your side. If you go near me, by morning I'll know." She took off her hoodie and used it as a pillow, and fell asleep.

"Finally," thought Sam, "now I can get some peace and quiet." It didn't last long though.

Scarlett was screaming and crying. A shallow pool was gathering around her and was growing fast. She was muttering and shouting and kicking a wall while screaming.

"I'll be good, daddy," she screamed "don't put me away. I don't like it. Please daddy! I won't show people my arms. I'll wear long sleeves and I'll be good, please daddy. Don't put me in the Red Room!"

The person screaming in the corner, kicking and yelling, was a world away from the confident celebrity that haunted the school halls. This seemed… like a child. Yes, that sounded right, a young child. Was this a memory. I compressed this thought, surely not. Another scream

"I won't show anyone my scar. They won't see my arms." Arm scar? Well, only one way to find out if it was real. I scooted as quiet as I could over the tape line and went over and rolled up her blue and white striped long sleeved tee and was shocked. I'd only expected one or two, but in her pale skin were countless etches and lines. On her forearm was a childish drawing of a clock. Only it wasn't a drawing in pen, but one in cuts. I'd had to mark Scarlett's work and going by the clock doodles (with the same weird symbols as Danny drew) and they were much better than the one I was focusing on. This was an old one; maybe the one that caused the memory she was reliving.

Scarlett was curled up into a protective ball, kicking her legs out in small kicks. The Red Room must be tiny! And everyone knew about Scarlett's weird aversion to red and pink; the two colours had been banned after she had a panic attack after going into the French teacher's room for the first time, as the room was bright red.

Was this where the phobia of the colour red comes from. Even though Sam Manson hated the girl, the fact she'd been so badly abused made her pity the girl to no end.

Sam backed away from the screaming teen and banged on the door. This made Scarlett scream louder. Sam had to know what was going on inside Scarlett's dream.

"Danny, disable that stupid ghost shield, go ghost and enter Scarlett's dream with me," he did.

"It's like being in an insane asylum," he muttered under his breathe. He grabbed Sam's hand and possessed Scarlett

—-

Sam was right. The Red Room was tiny, smaller than Harry Potter's cupboard under the stairs painted bright glaring red paint, with insults painted with pink in feminine handwriting. Had Sarah Special written them? Her own mother and father?

Sam edged her fingers over the walls, invisible. Some of the insults she was able to read said

"Worthless"
"What did we do to deserve you?"
"Go back where you came from, freak!"

Sam's violet eyes panned over to the door. A small girl with long blonde hair in pigtails sat on the wall. She wore a blue dress with a black collar and ribbon, and a familiar necklace- the same clock one? Her feet were bare, and a pool of blood surrounded her, like outside her dream. It mixed with her tears to create a weird combination of liquids. It was such a sad sight.

Looking on Scarlett's arm, Sam noticed the same clock scar on her forearm and another one of symbols bleeding out.

A woman appeared, looking like a grown-up Scarlett, even with the clock necklace. She was clearly a ghost, with her hair in pigtails that defied gravity like Embers pigtails and were highlighted with neon pink. Her skin was pure white, with a jagged scar along her right eye that was dark red like the other one. She wore a long-sleeved pink dress and heels and held a clock staff similar to Clockworks, but red. The women said, in one of those sickly sweet voices, two words I'd have snapped up in a second as a child as abused as Scarlett clearly was. They were:

"Join me!"

I'd expect her to take her offer, but she declined, saying

"I'd rather be dead than join you Scar!"

"You're already halfway there," that confused me, halfway dead. I looked at Danny, and he nodded. Scarlett was a halfa. Scar continued with "why stop. You could leave all this behind. No more Red Room. No more pretending. Just come live with me!"

Scarlett glared at the woman and stated calmly

"I've told you once, I've told you twice, I've told you a thousand times, I WILL GET OUT THIS HOUSE, BUT NOT WITH YOU, SCAR." Defeated, Scar faded. Danny and I took our time to depart promptly.

"Did you know?" I asked Danny

"About Scar, the scars or the halfa thing?" he asked

"ALL OF IT," Sam said, exasperated

"I knew about her scars and the fact she was a halfa, but not about Scar, as in her Dan,"

"That's her Dan?" Sam said, then it started to line up in her mind. When Scarlett thought of red and pink, she was reminded of the red room, the pink insults and Scar. She acted like Danny did with Dan; tough and defending but you could tell she was terrified. And nor did I blame her. That woman with the pink glow was the most terrifying ghost I'd ever seen.

Scarlett woke up with a jolt and seeing the two staring down at her like an animal at a zoo, she spooked like a horse and fazed out the room. Danny stuck his head out the wall. She was flying away; I knew she wasn't coming down.