Ophelia knew she was crazy when she began the sequel to Love's Irk. She had turned the plot upside down to ensure continuity, killing everyone's favorite; Russell.
Now the book was complete and she had made a fortune. No one expected it, the twist. But they loved it anyways, as she hit #1 on the New York's bestsellers board, topping the chart for six weeks straight.it wasn't much, alright, but it was huge for her. She was now a household name and she intended to stay.
Now Martha was bat shit crazy. A concentrated form of crazy Ophelia could never dream of in nine lifetimes. In between life and death, back strapped to an uncomfy black chair, Ophelia was hella sure she'd died a thousand times . That was nine multiplied by a whole lot of shitty lives.
I am gonna die because I killed Russell. Great. She thought.
"Martha, Please...", Ophelia was saying, "I can rewrite that sequel and dedicate it just to you."
Martha, sitting diagonally away from Ophelia, purred into a book, which she made out to be the much dreaded sequel. Lover's Scorn.
She smiled and shut the book in a I've-had- enough-style.
"Why, of course, OR-Fi-Lia!" She said in a classic disney Cinderella step-mum's tone, rolling her eyes while at it. "I didn't go through all this stress to let you NOT write the book. I mean, you can't kill Russell and expect not to die, right?" She asked, crouched in front of Ophelia.
"No". Ophelia said faintly.
"Good". Martha smacked her hands and produced a notepad and a pen from her Victorian style gown that could fit almost anything and dropped it on Ophelia's lap.
"Now begin."
