Hopelessly wondering what she was like, Molly sat on the edge of the sofa staring at an old photo of her mum, all alone. Her heartfelt mother had died from childbirth a few minutes after Molly was born, leaving Molly with her selfish father. Her dad was out “at work” leaving her home alone at the age of nine. She knew he was down at the pub, getting drunk. Molly was dreading the time her dad came home, as she always did, she loathed her dad. Her dad was intelligent, but he didn’t show it. Her dad was always drunk, angry and frightening. The worst part was when he was drunk he hurt Molly verbally and physically, making her feel insignificant.
All of a sudden, Molly heard the front door open then slam loudly. Shivers spiked down Molly’s spine, he was drunk yet again. She was terrified. Fearing for her wellbeing, Molly slipped out of the room and silently went up to her bedroom and closed the door. She sat upon her bed until she heard glass smash, that’s when Molly hid in her wardrobe, holding her precious toy turtle close to her bruised chest from past beatings. Molly waited about two hours before she heard silence, so she cautiously slid out of her wardrobe and went to sleep.
In pain and disorientated, Molly awoke in pure darkness. She was unable to move, like she was held down on something. Molly struggled until she was sore and in tears. Desperately, Molly began to call for help… Nothing. Being nine years old she was persistent. She cried out louder in hope that someone will help her, “HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!” She finally got a response. Not the one she was begging for.
Within the cold blanket of darkness that smothered her, a maniacal laughter echoed within her head. Startling Molly, a blinding light snapped on. Her eyes adjusting to the sudden contrast of light, her teary eyes focused on a white lab coat, which moved closer, her mind was incapable of comprehending what she was seeing. Standing there was the man who should have loved and protected her. An agonising internal scream resonated through her soul. Two words echoed soundlessly in her head. “Dad no.”
In a failed attempt, she begged her drunken dad to let her go. With molly’s teared eyes glued to her parent, she noticed an extremely long syringe in his gloved hand. Meeting Molly’s strained eyes, he saw her staring at it. “My new serum, I need your help testing it out.” Molly’s eyes widened with fear and horror, her fear of needles overwhelmed her and from the fear that gripped her, she began to hyperventilate, unable to speak to her seemingly insane father. Her dad narrowed his eyes and approached the horrified nine year old, whispering menacingly in her cold ear, “Calm down, you’re mine. I would never hurt you badly.” With that unsettling phrase in her cloudy mind, her dad pulled out a filthy white blindfold, and proceeded to place it to her eyes, blackening out the awaiting, untested results of this new serum.
Smoothly, the extra-long needle entered Molly’s neck; a small leakage of blood silently trickling down her penetrated neck. Molly held her breath until it was over. She exhaled heavily as the needle slid out of her neck. Nothing happened…
Molly’s head danced around. Little lights studding the ebony environment. Her head still in shock, the defenceless child began to vomit thick crimson, mushed with internal flesh and sour smelling acid. Time followed with numbness seeping throughout her body. When the gory scene had come to an unrecognised end, Molly felt excruciating pain coursing in her back, like her flesh was being torn open. It was torturous. Molly’s lungs emptied into agonised gurgling screams, her drunk father observing the results carelessly, whilst drinking another bottle of whiskey pulled from a desk drawer. Splattering the drunk’s unkept face, Molly’s vision hazy with a crimson hue, tentacles bursted out of her mutilated back, sending gore everywhere like an overheated geyser. Her once perfect teeth ruined by sharp points. Her father looked at her in disgust, not the result he desired, he could not allow her to live. The next thing Molly’s half dead body knew, her father smashed his whiskey glass and used a shard to slit her throat. The psychotic man screamed at his doing “MONSTER!” Leaving Molly to die alone. As her mind began to cloud over and dim, all she could hear was the grim, gruesome gurgling sound of her own intimate death.
She stirred slowly, her thoughts jumbled worse than a jigsaw puzzle-but one thought was crystal clear. How is this possible? My throat was slit. She was still bound tightly to the crimson smeared iron bed. Almost as if those tentacles had a mind of its own, they snapped the leather straps that restrained her. Immediately, Molly went to feel her wrists for a pulse… she could not. Splintered bone and clinging flesh greeted Molly’s eyes through a hole in the torn blindfold, realizing she was missing her right forearm, Silently mournful of her loss. Finding control, she ordered one of her tendrils to feel her discoloured, bleak wrists to search for any sign of a pulse. The tendrils’ feeling coursed deep through her beaten body, giving Molly strength and extended feeling. They were part of her now. Nothing. Molly Hazuki was no longer among the living.
Collapsing to the stone floor in disbelief, Molly wondered what her next move was going to be, now she was the undead. Not human. Do many thoughts were rushing into her barely developed mind; until one came that gave her a sudden rush of glee. End the pain, the never-ending sadness – by taking her dad’s life. She tore the center of her blue dress and tired it to the gaping semi circle on her neck.
“Heh, kinda looks like a happy face,” she whispered, remembering none of her life being filled with any smiles. She clawed at the icy ground and headed for a wooden door. She exited and fell upon the familiar pastel blue wallpaper. The basement? She was threatened never to go there – she now knew why. As Molly gasped and leaned against the wall she fell into a flashback.
Once on her way home from her crappy school, she saw a garage sale. She glances over at the items, became uninterested and began to leave. As she did, a pointy handle dug into her gut. It was a sickle. The owner had told her it was £10, she never had that kind of money. So when the owner had turned his back, sheer slid it into her bag and ran home. It was just in case her dad got too bad, she was scared and angry.
Her bony tendrils trailing behind her, Molly weakly stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom, then commanded her tendrils pick it up. Cautiously, Molly headed for the living room, where she was sure her father was out cold. With the sickle groped tightly, she turned to see her murderer, her own father, passed out drunk. Bringing the tendril gripping the sickle down to her side, her left hand took the sickle and held it tightly, creeping silently towards her father. Tragic memories flew past in Molly’s mind, the pain and the hurt he caused her as she held the sickle, high above her head, and, numb with anguish, launched it into her father’s abdomen.
At the moment of impact, blood spraying everywhere, the walls, the floor, the sofa, the sickle, her now mangled father, choking on his own bad blood. Doomed to die in minutes. Whilst her dad’s entails were slipping out of the huge holes in his gut, impacting the floor made a satisfying slopping sound, Molly tiptoed over to the picture of her deceased mother and sobbed.
“Why am I not in heaven with you? Daddy killed me in cold blood, but there was a man, he brought me back, did he just want me to suffer?!? I hope daddy will rot in hell. Whilst you gave up your life for me and live in heaven. I think I know why that man brought me back, I have some unfinished business in this realm. I hope one day me and you together can watch daddy root and fry in hell!” With that Molly kissed her mother’s picture one last time, then walked away.
Molly turned to witness her father’s mutilated body, that’s when she got a warm, happy, contented feeling.
Leaving the place where she was abused, her hell, she looked behind her to see her cheap shoes leaving bloody footprints. The neighbors. The neighbors were a young couple who are married. She loathed them. When her dad hurt her, made her scream, they never even tried to help out intervene, but Molly knew they could hear the desperate cries for help.
Climbing through the bedroom window, Molly witnessed the joy filled couple snoring loudly. Molly’s eyes burnt in assured at the sight of those two happy, whilst she was in a living hell. In two quick chops, the couple got what they deserved. The tendrils attached to Molly’s back held their heads as Molly jumped from the window and raced to the forest. The tendrils gripping the secreted heads by their hair, two thick trails of blood spewing crimson from each head. Once deep in the forest, molly hung the body less heads on thick tree branches, sat down and watched the blood drip… Smiling for the first time in her life.
