And she’s off, like a rocket.


 

Original Script

MOM
Please, your condition.
To her husband lurking by the door.
Dear, go message Deacon Brewere at once. 
Perhaps he can—

JANE
Shouting at her mother.
This is all your fault!
And you don’t even care!

DAD
Don’t speak to your…

JANE
I don’t need any of you!
I’ll take care of this myself. By myself!
Runs out of the house at high speed.