Page 23 of Double Obsession

“Ma’am! What are you doing?”

She slowly stood and faced the hollerer. He had on a red smock and a nametag that readDoug.

“No need to be rude, Doug. I’m just measuring my purchase,” she said in her calm, sweet voice.

His brow furrowed. “Are you insane? This isn’t the fabric counter. It’s wrapping paper. You buy the entire roll.”

“Insane?” she bellowed.

Doctors everywhere had tried to pin a diagnosis on her. Her mother had thought she was autistic. That was a load of crap.

“Do you hear voices?” one funny-looking little psychiatrist had asked.

Every sane person heard the Lord, so that didn’t count. Besides, she hadn’t heard voices in months. But after he asked that, she had swatted at the air calling out, “Leave me alone, Charlie.” She was a fabulous comedic actress, and that psychiatrist had been an imbecile.

Two doctors once fought about putting her on lithium. Hells bells, she wasn’t bipolar since she didn’t have ten trillion personalities; she was the only brilliant brain in her body. After that fiasco, her mother had run away, leaving her on Grandmommy’s front porch.

Finally, the medical screwups had crossed Tourette syndrome off the list. She didn’t have tics. Besides, calling out odd things wasn’t that big of a deal. When a know-it-all speech therapist made up a disorder called Klazomania, it became apparent that Arkansas was simply a specimen to the medical profession.

What made her the angriest was when clueless people accused her of being a paranoid schizophrenic. Just because she wasn’t naive didn’t make her paranoid. So many idiots watched fake news. Not her, because she listened to Howling Wolf Media.

She stabbed the pointy end of the scissors in the clerk’s direction. “I do not need to buy the entire roll. That’s what the big guys want people to think, but I know better.”

Doug feigned confusion by scrunching up his face.

Arkansas pointed the scissors at the ceiling. “The ones who try to control everything.”

“You mean Mr. Cooper, the manager?”

“Manager!” she scoffed.

“Well, most of the time, he’s an alright guy.” The kid glared at the floor. “You’re making a mess, and you gotta buy the entire roll.”

She was not messy; she was meticulous and neat. “Mershky!” She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She would not let his rudeness ruin her shopping trip or color her attempt to gift Hunter with a sweet surprise.

“Seriously, ma’am. You gotta buy the entire roll.”

Although she didn’t want to get blood on the paper, or her scissors, she needed to teach this ill-mannered teen a lesson. With an angry yelp, she leaped, and her scissors made contact with his neck.

“What the fuck?” Backing away, he brought his hand to his throat.

While searching for blood, she turned the scissors every which way. Catching a glimpse of her reflection, she flashed the pointy end of the outer blade a toothy grin.

He continued to put distance between them. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Snarling and aiming the scissors at his face, she stomped toward him.

He turned and took off in a sprint, calling over his shoulder, “I’m getting Cooper and the security guard.”

Arkansas halted her chase. She was too busy for this nonsense. Instead, she returned to her project.

Although there wasn’t any blood on them, she didn’t want to take any chances, so she wiped the scissors on the edge of her tunic. She finished cutting her paper, carefully rolled it, and secured it with a rubber band. She tossed two dollars on the shelf—she wasn’t a thief, after all. Grabbing her purchases, she headed to the exit.

From behind her, someone yelled, “There she is! The crazy bitch tried to kill me.”

“Hank, make sure she doesn’t come back in,” demanded a pinched-faced man. The sourpuss was probably the maniacal Mr. Cooper.

Arkansas shook off her fury with an undulating cry. Then, chuckling, she strolled into the sunlight and headed to her car.