"Glinda?" Larena opened her daughters door slowly, nearly screaming when she saw Glinda cutting her arm with a knife. The blood dribbled to the floor.

"Glinda! What in Oz are you doing!" Larena ran to her and pulled the blade away. Glinda looked straight into her mother's eyes, and started to chant an unfamiliar tune.

"I must get revenge. I must have pain. My darling went through pain..." Glinda slowly stood. Larena saw that her daughter's normally pink soft lips were white and chapped, even slightly grey. Her eyes seemed such a sad blue, like a rain in the night. Her mascara had been put on quickly, like she had attempted to be beautiful, but failed drastically. It fell in two small black waterfalls down her cheeks

"My sweetheart, my lovely, floating in my head,

My daaarling...My darling...my poor dear...dead."

Glinda walked over to her closet, muttering and whispering to herself as she uncovered a new blade. "Nice and sharp, my dear! Make it sharp!" She held it to her arm again. "Make the cuts nice and deep, for my darling wants to keep!"

Larena pulled the next blade away, searching for any more. Her face had gone pale. Glinda reached up and took it in her hands.

"My dear..." she purred to her mother. "Are you joining me? Are you afraid? Do you miss her? She is dead. Join me. Join my sorrow. My sweetheart, my lovely, floating in my head...my darling, my darling! My poor dear...DEAD!"

Larena gripped Glinda's shoulders. "What's wrong? Why are you like this? I demand an explanation."

"My sweetheart...dead."

Glinda turned away, heading towards the window and pushing it open. Five drops of blood from her arms fell on the window sill.

"Mother," Glinda said quietly. "I miss my friend. She died. My friend died."

"Glinda," Larena whispered, pressing a hand to her chest and breathing heavily. Her daughter frightened her. "Glinda, I'm sorry. But do not cut yourself."

She left the room with fear cutting into her every bone. She ran down to her husband.

Highmuster's eyes were filled with worry. "You saw her?"

"She's scary. She's ugly and chanting this horrible song."

"Her friend died two days ago. It's killing her."

"She's killing herself!" Larena snapped.

"Larena," Highmuster said calmly. "I've seen her. She's talking to the walls. And to herself. She holds out her hand and closes her eyes, like she's waiting for someone. She's waiting for something. I know it."

The lights flickered. Larena looked up the ceiling. A cracking sound filled the house. It grew and grew in sound, sending an eerie vibration that echoed down to Larena's soul.

They could hear Glinda's chant growing louder and louder.

"My sweetheart, my lovely, floating in my head...

my darling, my darling! My poor dear dead."

They heard their daughter's voice echoing through the house.

"Come...Come...Come, my darling..."

Then all was still. The lights went off, and the air grew cold. Larena didn't know what to think at all. She looked up and called to Glinda, "My dear! What's going on?"

Silence followed. Larena sat down in a chair and buried her face in her hands. "Go check on her." She told her husband.

Highmuster nodded, and cautiously went up the steps.

He knocked on Glinda's door, and opened it to see Glinda standing at her window. He paused to watch her reach up her hand.

"My Sweetheart..." Glinda waited.

Highmuster ventured into the room on tiptoe. His eyes grew as the saw the several bloody blades around the room. They formed one big circle. Glinda turned from the window, her head down, and she stepped into the center.

"Glinda? What's going on?" Her father asked in a harsh whisper.

"She's coming."

"Who?"

Glinda's mouth tipped into a sly smile. The man couldn't take this anymore, and darted from the room. But as the approached the steps, ready to lie to his wife and tell her everything was fine, he heard a cold, harsh voice and shrieking laughter from the room he abandoned.

"Elphie...Elphie...Elphie..."