[There is the space of six heartbeats of silence. Six heartbeats for the echoes of those last bullets to stop in Effie's ears. She comes back to herself and realizes how hard she's breathing -- out of control, really -- lungs pumping and lips parted as though she's just run for her life while standing perfectly still. An emotion she is used to crushing -- CRUSHING, as a confused child; CRUSHING, as a frightened teenager; CRUSHING, as an ambitious adult -- for survival, crushing it down and quashing it and putting it away -- boils up in her chest.
Pure rage. It needs an outlet, and it needs one now.
She rushes Clint, little fists balled up to flail at him nonfighting-lady-style. Her wig is askew. The irises flutter to the ground.]
[action -- SIX O'CLOCK.]
Pure rage. It needs an outlet, and it needs one now.
She rushes Clint, little fists balled up to flail at him nonfighting-lady-style. Her wig is askew. The irises flutter to the ground.]
I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!