Written with inspiration from @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt Tantrum Entrance. I had a new idea for a Wizard of Oz cartoon, where Dorothy is not present until the S1 finale, where Scarecrow lies through his teeth and tells her that nobody missed her, hoping that she'll stay out of the events of the plot for her own safety.
This is the aftermath of that talk.
Dorothy closed the door behind her, allowing the smell of paint and drying clay to assault her senses. She couldn't bring herself to go back to her dorm, not when her poor, sweet roommate had nothing to do with this. Instead, she found herself in the spare studio room she had taken over back when she was a freshman.
Her hands were trembling. Dorothy wasn't sure whether to spread her arms out or huddle tight, because the rest of her was trembling too.
Each word was like a dagger to the heart. She had been excited seeing Scarecrow, because he was here. In Kansas. It was a ten minute confirmation that she hadn't dreamed up Oz when she was eighteen, a stress dream of new adulthood creating a whole world for her.
"You've made such a mess of things."
She had missed him. She had missed Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. Her hand, still trembling, managed to get her satchel off.
"Nobody's missed you, Dorothy Gale."
She grabbed something. Dorothy wasn't sure what it was, except it was soft and had a heft to it. She sent it flying, revealing it to be a sculpture she was working on. It hit the canvas of a painting, one depicting the red poppy fields.
She grabbed another thing and threw it, enjoying the sound of it smashing against the floor. Dorothy allowed the haze of red to engulf her senses. She enjoyed grabbing things and throwing them, breaking them in a way that definitely would've hurt Toto if he was here. Her art was full of wishes that her dearest friend had just tainted, grabbed and shredded like the painting Dorothy grabbed and yanked apart.
When the entire room was a mess, Dorothy found herself standing there, panting for air that didn't seem to be entering her lungs.
She collapsed. She huddled up on the floor, her hands gripping her clothes tight. It was suddenly freezing in the room, the sensation oddly soothing against her cheek.
"You..." she hissed through tears rolling down her cheeks. "You fucking liar."
Her eyes raised, staring at her satchel. In the haze of heartbroken rage, it had fallen over. A box laid there, untouched by the damage. Dorothy could only faintly remember it being pushed into her hands and stuffing it in her bag as she tried to get away from where Scarecrow and that teenager had disappeared.
She reached out and pulled it close, her hand limply opening it.
The sight of silver greeted her eyes.
She pulled the silver shoes out. Dorothy blinked, feeling her eyes dry, as she studied the shoes.
She pulled them close to her chest.
"You fucking liar," she said, a smile forming on her face.
