Chapter 1
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The joy in the air around Christmas time is thick enough to cut with a knife. The cheering, the laughter, the smiles… It’s like a happiness overload. For a measly two days, the world forgets about its problems and sorrows to celebrate the amazing holiday that is Christmas. You knew that already. There’s a whole song. The lights hung up on the trees glisten and catch people’s eyes into a sleepy, hypnotic trance. The feeling of wood just keeps coming back… a familiar feeling, as if it had never left since last Christmas. It almost feels like the whole world is on pause, just for those few hours. Everyone is on the same page, for once. The happy grin of planet earth lights up the emptiness of space, just for those two days. And as we celebrate that day, and twelve days later, as we cheer for 1992, one person remains without a smile. Molly Anderson, a young hard-head with boy-short brown hair. She was rarely ever happy, so this was no different. Especially not now though, because school was starting in four days. Molly didn’t like school, not just because it was boring, but also because she wasn’t the most revered person in that damned building. The girls would often make fun of her, saying rude things about the way she dressed and looked… The worst was Blair. Blair McKinney. Blair McKinney and her band of flying monkeys, Brittany, Courtney and Veronica. As much as Molly hated them, she envied them. They all wore the latest fashions, the ones that Molly couldn’t afford. The short, short jorts with cuffed t-shirts… Molly wore an open plaid button-up over her black shirt and jeans. Hence her most popular nickname; a certain offensive term. Of course they called her that, the girls weren’t exactly original when it came to insulting nicknames. Molly came up with ten better ones in her head, but that offensive nickname seemed to be the only one that always came back…and the one that seemed the closest to home. Luckily, it wasn’t. She wasn’t like that. Luckily.
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The girls were utter bitches - excuse the lack of feminism in my description - and, contrary to belief, the boys were not usually that bad. They’d stay quiet for a while, smoking cigarettes at the back of the school. They’d trip girls in the hallway or pull on girls’s bra straps, once a month, when they finally got sick of being quiet. The boys were only assholes twice a month. The girls were assholes all year round. On the bright side, Molly was graduating that year, so she could finally move onto the next chapter. Yes, the painful sting of the public school system wouldn’t be able to reach her, once she graduated. There was only one problem; her parents very much wanted her to go to college, but Molly didn’t want to. She was sick of school. That was an argument to have later, though. It was only January. Molly sat on her bed and glanced at the calendar, as if it would change if she looked away. December 29th, 1991. ‘I have to change that,’ she thought to herself. She then looked back down at her sketchbook. Nothing. She sighed. That has been happening lately. Nothing. The eyes wander around, melting on the white of the paper, sitting, sighing and waiting around for an answer to just magically show up. Artist block, they called it. She wasn’t blocked, she could still draw, but whatever came out looked like utter shit. She just needed to find something to get motivated to do. Motivated to spend time on, to care about. Such a thing didn’t exist. That magical thing called a muse was always just out of reach.
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Molly and her father were very close. She loved her father, he told her once that she didn’t have to laugh just because she felt like she had to. They would do everything together, when they could. The man had a solid nine to five job, therefore, he couldn’t be with her every second of the day. Luckily, Molly was understanding and made the most of the time that she did have. Her and her mother, on the other hand, were far from close. They were inches of thin ice away from a fight, every time they looked toward each other. Through Molly’s eyes, she was an annoying, stuck-up woman, who wanted to control everything that she did. Through her mother’s eyes, Molly was a stubborn piece of work with a bad attitude and a dykish sense of style. They never saw eye-to-eye. You’d think it was simple; a classic mother-versus-angsty-teenage-daughter trope. It wasn’t that simple, though. Nothing really is, nothing is like what you see on TV, like you read in a book, or like what you hear in a song. So, I guess, you shouldn’t really trust that what happens in this, actually happens in real life. I wouldn’t look into it, though.
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Molly and her mother didn’t exactly get along, but they did agree on one thing; Molly was having trouble at school. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t intense, but let’s just say a 73% average in almost every single one of her classes. She didn’t see the real problem. There were way worse cases. Like, for example, her younger brother, Reggie. He was a couple of years younger than her, and he was struggling with a capital S, focusing on his heavy metal rock music, rather than his schoolwork. But of course, Molly being the only girl, the oldest and the most attention-grabbing, she was the main focus of her parents. Sadly. She found it funny how they cared so much about her school life when it came to grades, but not when it came to anything else, like the fact that she was struggling with a capital S, socially.
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But she wasn’t alone, no that would be unbearable. She had a friend. Megan Morrisson. She had been her friend since her second year of high school. It wasn’t serious, they didn’t do sleepovers and braid each other’s hair, or even see each other, outside of school. They were a level over friendly. So, they were friends, just not friends. On top of it, she was best friends with some of Blair’s henchmen. Molly found herself more mature to judge someone based on who they’re friends with, so it was okay. She just didn’t understand why Megan never asked Blair and her friends to come off it a little.
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The shitty Ontarian public school that Molly attended was nothing short of a prison. It was moderately large, gray, and had bars against the windows. There were rumors flying around that it used to be a correctional facility, but those were unconfirmed. All the kids there felt like they should be in a correctional facility, but there they were. They all went to Columbus High School, the number one school with the most wanted delinquants. Okay, that’s not true. I’m about six years too early. Just give it some time. There’s no telling where they could be.
. . .
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Finally, the day arrived. Christmas break was over. The joy and happiness of Christmas time was over, and the excitement and bliss of New Year’s was over as well. The world turned the page on those few days of unisson. Funny how the world works, we go on like it never happened. War continues, fights continue, the world spins again and we pretend like we didn’t just agree, for the first time in the longest eternity. We have to say goodbye to being on the same page, putting the world on pause, and at last being happy, at least until next Christmas. And we definitely have to say goodbye to being away from school. School always comes back. It’s like the annoying dog that you usher out of the house, and cry to your parents because it ‘ran away’, but it just comes back two days later. Molly splashed some water in her face, as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She was tired, she still wasn’t used to waking up so early, so she had to get used to it. She ran a hand through her hair and tried to utter encouraging words to herself, hoping that one day, she’d believe them. Molly went downstairs, said goodbye to her parents and walked to the bus stop. At the bus stop, there were two boys and a girl. One of the boys was short, brown hair and had a sort of deformed-looking face. He was probably younger, much younger even. The other boy was tall, very tall, but she heard him speak once, and he sounded like he was fresh out of the whom. The girl was moderately tall, thought she was better than everyone, but in reality, she was just a sec 2.
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The bus ride is sort of long. Many stops along the way. It usually takes about thirty minutes, give or take a few. Molly silently prayed the bus would break down, and they’d be stuck there forever. They’d never leave the bus. School was dreadful, to say the least. Once they finally arrived, Molly encouraged herself to actually enter the school. The bell was going to ring in fifteen minutes, so she went to the library to draw. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. When she turned around, it was just Megan, which worried Molly a little. If she was there, Blair, Courtney, and the rest weren’t very far. Megan smiled and Molly smiled back. 211Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1QTxr65Krl
“How was your break?” asked Megan, starting an empty conversation.
“Uh, it was alright… I didn’t really do much. You?”
“Yeah, I didn’t really do much, also… What’s in the book?”
“Drawings… Sketches… That’s pretty much it.”
“You like to draw?”
“Yeah. That’s my main hobby.”
“It’s…” Megan observed the page. “Empty.”
“Yeah, I’ve been lacking inspiration, recently… Need that muse, you know?”
Megan put her hand on Molly’s shoulder and smiled.
“Totally,” she said. “But I have to go now. See you, Molly.”
“See you, Megan.”
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She left, leaving Molly alone with her dreadfully empty sketchbook.
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Chapter 2211Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNIf8FZnr8S
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December 29th, 1832
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As they say in Latin, ‘vita semper erit vita’. Life will always be life. Life might not always be the same way, but it will always be life. A good, solid start to a long, long book. Well, hopefully a long, long book. Without knowing my name, I beg you to relate to me. Is this such a big, impossible task? That’s very possible… I’ve never been reasonable. Since I was born, I didn’t exactly ask permission… But life is life, vita semper erit vita. Why do I wish for this to be a long, long book? Because it’s a recording of my ‘vita’. My life. I’m already eighteen, so you’ve missed a pretty big part of my growth, but nonetheless. I’m getting sold tomorrow. My father tells me that I exaggerate too much, “just a silly girl”, he’d say about me. Maybe he’s right. I do exaggerate, but never too much. I’m not exactly being sold, but I am being forced to marry. Marry a man who is three times my age. I was repulsed by the idea, disgusted even… But my father didn’t care, he doesn’t care. He wants me to be rich. So I’ll be rich. Classic story, huh? I bet you’re tired of it. I am too. Luckily, I do have one thing that’s different from the millions of stories that start just like this one; I have Johnny. Johnny is the old apple tree in the public park. There’s a calm shade and a cool breeze. No one can be heard for a mile radius. A sort of calmed air flowing through your skin, making your heart seem lighter. No one else goes there, that’s why I like it so much. I named it Johnny after an old tale that my mother used to tell me, before she died. It was about a young man called Johnny Appleseed. I’ve forgotten it, now. My mother is dead, she is no longer there to remind me of the words. She’s not ‘dead’, but she’s gone. She wants me to marry so badly, she no longer cares about my happiness. She is dead. She has lost the spark of life, that’s the definition of dead, last time I checked. Could this be one of my famous exaggerations? Yes, it’s very probable. It’s also very probable that I’m just angry. Angry about a lot of things, but mostly angry at squirrels. Angry at squirrels because they can live in trees, and we can’t. I’d like to live in a tree. I’d love to live in a tree. I feel like they take it for granted. But, here I am, stuck as a human. Oh well, ‘vita semper erit vita’. I get angry very easily, so I try to mask that anger with that sentence. It’s easier to manage. Anyways, this morning, I came down the stairs and received a letter from an unknown person. Curious, of course, I picked up said letter and read it. I’ll rewrite what it said word-for-word:
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Dear reader,
If you are reading this, I am dead. I don’t know who you are, you don’t know who I am. Not only that, but I am dead. No worries, I have most likely not been murdered… most likely. But, my dying wish, despite the fact that you feel no empathy for me, for you did not know me, my dying wish is one I would be ever so pleased if you were to carry out. I wish for you, and you alone - do not show this letter to anyone else - go to the old apple tree at the public park and search for a small box. It could be in the tree, in the ground, I don’t remember where I put it. So, if you’ll please find it for me. There will be a reward inside. Thank you infinitely, in advance.
Cordially, 211Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDi8v0ZRZVf
Myself.
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The letter was intriguing to say the least. I hope only that the reward is money, then I could leave this town, and I wouldn’t have to marry. That’s only a dream, though. First thing tomorrow morning, I will start looking for this dead person’s box with high hopes and a light heart. 211Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfmop72DZOw
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Chapter 3211Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXFjOArHFli
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Molly Anderson never heard a more beautiful sound than the bell ringing. It wasn’t as beautiful when it signaled the beginning of the day, or a class, but it was a beautiful sound when it meant something was ending. When it meant school was ending. It was the most glorious sound a high schooler could hear. At this particular time, it was the lunch bell. Molly quickly grabbed an egg and ham-filled bagel from the cafeteria and hurried over to the window ledge, a perfect seat with scenery and a lack of human life, all around. She took a bite of her bagel and brought out her sketchbook. The muse hadn’t. arrived yet, but Molly was a very patient person. The muse is like a wild animal. You let it come to you, because if you force yourself onto it, it will probably shit all over your face, and your work will end up looking like something from The Gumby Show. She continued working until she felt someone sit next to her. She didn’t look up, for fear of it being someone that she didn’t like. She would be forced to look that person in the eye, or maybe even smile. Just the thought made her gag. She looked over, slowly and carefully. Short jean shorts that led to a teal-blue shirt and an antagonizing face. It was Veronica. Veronica and her shit-eating grin, her bouncy, black hair and her slightly squinted eyes that reveal a look of superiority. Molly quickly turned away, sprinting in the other direction of what she hoped wasn’t a conversation. Sadly, her prayers weren’t answered and Veronica came closer and closer.
“Molly Anderson,” she said, fake-happy.
Molly looked up from her sketchbook to face the other girl.
“Hi, Veronica,” she said, monotone.
“Oh, no, please, call me Ronnie.”
Even when nice things came out of Veronica’s mouth, she still sounded bitchy.
“Can I help you in any way?” said Molly, clearly alluding to the fact that she wanted to be left alone. Veronica didn’t get the memo.
“Someone told me that you’re in search of a muse… is that right?”
Molly squinted. She had only told Megan, so she probably told Veronica. If she had told Veronica, maybe she had told Blair… That was concerning.
“I guess that’s right… yes.”
“Well, Anderson, you’re in luck. I just so happen to be an artist, myself. I was looking for inspiration for a long time… Like that word you used. The, um, the moose.”
“Muse.”
“Muse. I was looking for my muse all day and all night. I tried everything, and when I say ‘everything’, I really do mean everything. I looked far and wide… But I couldn’t find it. It was hopeless, it felt hopeless… that was until I found this place.”
Veronica handed Molly a paper with an address. Molly read it and looked back up at Veronica.
“No, this can’t be a thing,” she said. “I pass by the block of addresses starting with 7 every day. I’ve never seen this. It’s the block of houses near the forest, and I’ve never-”
“Lucky for you, it’s not a house. It’s in the forest.”
Molly furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.
“Why would I want to go into the forest?”
“Because that’s where I went to get my inspiration. I found my moose in that building. Trust me, Anderson. You won’t regret it.”
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Molly looked at the numbers on the page and then back up at the other girl. She thought for a long while. She didn’t know if she could trust Veronica, after all, she is a bitch and she was probably not an artist. But Molly was screwed, she had the worst feeling of all; she was desperate. She was desperate to find inspiration, her muse. The question was, was she desperate enough to trust Veronica? Blair McKinney’s little puppet? There was obviously some sort of angle behind this… But one thought kept crossing her mind; what if she wasn’t lying? What if Veronica really was an artist, and she found her muse in some building in the middle of the forest. What if it was the absolute truth? Veronica sighed.
“Look, just think about it,” she said.
“Um… okay,” said Molly. “And by the way, uh, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
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Veronica left. Molly was left to wonder what to do with the address. This could be the solution to her biggest problem, or a humiliating joke that’ll scar her for life… Either way, it would be better than the sheer boredom that she felt almost every day.
. . .
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Blair McKinney’s laugh was recognizable from six miles away. It was loud, obnoxious and it revealed immediately that she was shit-talking. Everyone dreaded that laugh, it meant that she was making fun of someone. That person could be anyone. She hated every soul in that school, no exceptions, except maybe her friends. But even her friends suffered from her wrath, depending on the day. Depending on her mood. Blair was practically in control of the whole building. Everyone wanted to please her, terrified of what she might do if she didn’t like them. It was funny that they never learned; Blair McKinney didn’t like anyone. Her and her friends sat on the stairs, behind the school, talking and laughing, during lunch break. No one dared approach them. They were on a higher status of life.
“Is that really what you told her?” said Blair, laughing once again.
“Yeah, I told her she could find her moose, or something, there,” said Veronica
“Ronnie, that’s genius,” giggled Brittany.
“Yeah, but how are we gonna get her again in the warehouse?” asked Courtney.
“I have an idea,” said Blair.
Everyone looked over at her; something that often happened when Blair McKinney spoke.
“What if we went in after her and locked the doors. Then, we could open it after a couple of hours and wear halloween masks and stuff. Scare the shit out of her,” she said.
The others hesitated, looking at each other.
“I don’t know, Blair, that sounds a little…”
“What, Veronica? What does it sound like?”
“It sounds a little… cruel,” said Brittany, finishing Veronica’s thought.
“Oh, come on, guys, Molly’s practically asking for it. She dresses like a lesbian and cuts her hair like a teenage Jewish boy. Don’t we want to destroy her?”
“Yeah, maybe, but that’s a little much, Blair. We don’t want to kill her, come on,” said Courtney.
“Fine, then,” said Blair, a sour glaze dusting her words, “I’ll go alone. I don’t need you, anyways.”
Blair got up and left, angry. She seemed defensive, all of a sudden, which was strange for her.
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The thing about Blair McKinney, was that she was the most known person at the school. The most loved? Debatable, but the most known, for sure. She was pretty, popular and had her own car at seventeen. Who wouldn’t be jealous of her? But jealousy is different from admiration. Blair thought, genuinely, that Courtney, Veronica and Brittany were her friends because they thought she was cool. In a way, yes, but in a way, no. Veronica was always cool. She had perfect black hair, pale skin and could pull off jorts, somehow. Everyone wanted to be Veronica as much as they wanted to be Blair. So, naturally, Blair and Veronica were best friends. How you use the term ‘friend’ is up to you, for multiple reasons. Courtney was a coffee-brown-haired, freckled girl who often wore black headbands that matched her skirt, along with light-coloured shirts. She was nobody until she agreed to do Blair’s homework once, and they were ‘friends’ ever since. Brittany was a short, ginger-haired girl with an endless supply of knee-length skirts in every color. She was pretty enough, and was always friends with Courtney, so, time after time, little by little, she integrated herself into Blair’s gang. They’d do anything to stick around and be the gang of ‘yes-men’ they always knew that they could be.
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But, why was Blair so obsessed with status? Easy. When Blair was a young girl, she’d watch a lot of movies on TV. There was one particular movie where the main girl was an uncool loser with no friends. Blair, being young, gullible and scared, decided that she would never turn out like that, when she got to high school. It didn’t matter that she was only seven years old, and wasn’t going to get to high school for another six years, she still needed those measly five years to be absolutely perfect. Maybe you’re thinking, by now, ‘the great Blair McKinney? Fueled by fear? Impossible’. Actually, more possible than you’d think. A lot of actions are fueled by fear. For example, Blair’s will to destroy Molly Anderson. Or, Molly Anderson’s will to find a muse - without it, her life would be a talentless nightmare full of despair and depression. Going back a second, back to Blair’s fear, she thinks that Molly is the key to her downfall. That’s what she told her ‘friends’, that’s her excuse. Her excuse for torturing poor Molly Anderson. But the real reason for years of torture, was simple. Blair thought she knew everything. Blair thought she knew how to act, how to speak, how to read, how to write, how to pronounce her own name… That was until she met Molly Anderson. She didn’t know how to act, she couldn’t figure out how to speak, she lost the ability to read and write, and she forgot how to pronounce her own name. The only way to stop that overcoming feeling of uselessness was to push Molly away. Blair thought that if she was super mean to Molly, Molly would never come near her and she wouldn’t have to lose all the abilities that just seemed so simple.
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The bell rang, as it often does, and Blair went to class. She sat next to Veronica in almost all of her classes. She carefully watched Molly, as the latter walked in, sketchbook in her hand and unsuspecting. Blair internally laughed to herself. Her sense of safety would be executed tonight. The teacher walked in and began speaking. Veronica and Blair, being in the back of the class, began talking. That’s what the back of the class is for, it’s like a lounge. Everyone knew that if you were in the back of the class, you could do anything you want. It was like a barrier separating you from the teacher. She was clueless.
“So, Blair,” started Veronica.
“What is it?”
“Are you really going to do that thing to Molly tonight?”
“Yes, of course. You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
“What? Are you crazy? I’m not coming.”
“Ronnie! You have to come. I can’t just go alone in the middle of the forest.”
“Well, then don’t go.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, because!” Blair sighed. “Look, Ronnie, I never ask you anything. I’m a really good and understanding person who always validates your feelings over mine, and I just really need you to do this one thing for me, just once! That’s all I’m asking, please.”
“Blair, this is a terrible idea.”
“No, Ronnie, it’s a Goddamn great idea.”
“You’re my best friend,” said Veronica, “but I can’t do this.”
Blair crossed her arms and scooted her chair a couple of inches away.
“Sorry,” said Veronica.
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What Blair couldn’t admit to herself, was that she was letting a very personal score rub off onto her friends. She needed to do something, she thought desperately, but she was wrong. Blair was often wrong, but no one ever had the heart to tell her that she was. The risk of losing their spot in the group was more crushing than the pure psychotic behavior of Blair McKinney.
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Molly ‘listened’ to the teacher. You’d think, since she has less than mediocre grades, she would listen to the teacher a bit more. You would be wildly mistaken if you thought this. She stared at her sketchbook, underneath the table and squinted. The thought that she had earlier, came back in her head. She was desperate. A dangerous thing for a teenage artist. She seriously, sincerely debated going to the place. It was far from a good idea, especially considering the fact that it was obviously a prank held in the hands of Blair and her Rockettes. But, then again,
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Molly was desperate.
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Was she desperate enough to do something like this?
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Chapter 4
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Molly stopped by her house for a few seconds to tell her parents that she wouldn’t be returning home on time. She then walked all the way over to the forest, trying to weigh the pros and cons of actually going to the address that Veronica had given her. The pros were that maybe she could regain inspiration, draw again and feel less useless. This would also mean that maybe Blair and Co weren’t the most awful human beings that have ever crossed this earth. The cons were that she would be humiliated, publicly or not. She would receive a scarring experience that would traumatize her for life, she might even get hurt. Was all of that worth a little bit of inspiration? Yes. Absolutely. Molly took a deep breath and tightened the grip around her sketchbook, as she entered the forest. She swatted away branches that were poking at her from every direction. Luckily, it was winter, so no bugs. That was one big plus for her. She kept glancing down at the address, as if there were other buildings around to get confused with. She just needed something to look down at.
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Finally, after countless minutes of aimless walking, she found it. It was this big, abandoned warehouse with trees fallen on top of it and broken windows everywhere. That’s when Molly came to the conclusion that this was definitely and most certainly a prank. She sighed. But just as she was about to leave, Molly realized that it might not be a prank. Maybe the warehouse was full of untold inspiration. She held her sketchbook to her chest, took a deep breath and walked in. The ambiance was something that you’d find in a movie. The trees lightly shaking back and forth, the wind making a sound that sounded like a human whistling just loud enough to be heard, the cold air surrounding, everywhere. The grass was invisible - the snow blocked it, but if it was visible, it would probably be dead. Molly could hardly imagine a time where any of the wildlife had any…life.
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She opened the door, and it made a loud creaking noise and a shaking motion. Molly was worried that it would fall off. It didn’t, thankfully, so she entered further. The wooden floorboards were nothing short of flimsy. There was a second floor, with hand railing that outlined the whole floor. That was also concerning to Molly. It could fall on top of her head, for all she knew. She bent down, pushed the broken glass shards away from the spot she was in, and sat down. Not wanting to actually sit on it, she put her jacket down and sat on top of it. She was slightly cold, but it was okay. She didn’t wasn’t going to stay for long. She brought out her pencil and her sketchbook and began tapping the eraser against it. Still nothing. She wasn’t going to label Veronica as a liar, just yet. After all, it had only been five minutes. She decided to look around for a bit, thinking that maybe something could happen if she looked just close enough. Sadly, nothing happened. All that was left was a lack of inspiration and the continuous squeaking that the warehouse produced. The floorboards dipped as Molly placed her foot down. She removed it immediately. She heard the light pitter-patter of animal footsteps. She prayed it was a squirrel, and not a rat. A rat with rabies. She concentrated on her paper, maybe to get her mind off of the ambiance of the abandoned warehouse in the middle of the forest. That’s when Molly started to hear footsteps. Human footsteps. At first, she panicked. Her heart rose to her throat. But then, she realized that it was most likely Blair or Veronica or one of her other soldiers. She shook her head and continued to look at her sketchbook. But the footsteps got closer. They got closer. They got even closer. Molly tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t, anymore. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The fingers drummed against her sleeve. She let out a sharp scream and turned around to see a creepy baby doll-type mask with blood all over it. She screamed even harder. Molly then heard laughing… High-pitched, loud and obnoxious. Molly recognized that laugh immediately. She could recognize it from a mile away. The figure took off their mask to reveal a blonde seventeen-year-old. Of course, as Molly suspected, it was Blair. Molly breathed heavily. She was seeing red. Of course it was just a practical joke that Blair wanted to play on her, exploiting the one thing that actually made her happy.
“For fuck’s sake, Blair!”
Blair laughed again. “Oh, Anderson, you shouldn’t have trusted us…”
“Where’s everyone else? Are they going to pop out and scare the living shit out of me, too?”
Blair looked down. She had a gleam of sadness in her eye. It was genuine. And it lasted a nanosecond.
“They’re not here.”
“Okay,” said Molly, getting up. “I’m leaving.”
“Where do you think you’re going, Anderson?”
“Out. I don’t need to fucking be here with you.”
Molly put her hand on the doorway of the warehouse. She couldn’t leave. It was locked.
“Something wrong?” said Blair with a knowing smile.
“Unlock the Goddamn door, Blair.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking ab-”
“Give me the key, I’m serious.”
Blair thought for a moment. There was no key. A look of panic overcame her features.
“Oh shit,” said Blair, running toward the door.
She jiggled the handle and pulled on it, but there was no use.
“I locked it from the outside,” she said.
“You what?!”
“I locked it from the outside!”
“You absolute fucking idiot!”
“I didn’t think twice about it!”
“No shit!”
Blair looked down at her clothing and groaned.
“Oh, I’m wearing a skirt! I’m going to be so cold!” she whined.
“That’s what you’re worried about?! We’re stranded in the middle of the forest with no food or water, and you’re worried about your skirt?!”
“Yes! It’s, like, minus twenty degrees outside.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you locked us in here!”
“In my defense-”
“No, you get no defense.”
“Hold on, let me explain.”
“Okay, explain,” said Molly, crossing her arms and sitting back down on her jacket.
“It was Veronica’s idea to send you here. I didn’t even know that she was going to. She said it was a good idea, because you were looking for your moose, and you were desperate.”
“And why would I believe that?”
“Why would I throw my best friend under the bus?”
“Because you’re Blair McKinney. You’d throw the prime minister under the bus, if it meant it could benefit you.”
“And how would lying benefit me in this situation? We're both stuck here, anyway,” said Blair, kicking a nearby pebble.
Molly sighed and picked up her sketchbook. She stared at the blank page, tapping her eraser against it. Blair furrowed her eyebrows to try and decode what Molly was doing. The latter didn’t look up.
“Hello?” said Blair. “Earth to Anderson?”
Molly didn’t answer. Blair rolled her eyes and scoffed.
“Are you really going to ignore me?”
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Molly didn’t answer. Truthfully, that was exactly what she was going to do. Sure, they thought they were on a superior level of life, but at the end of the day, they were just seventeen year olds. They acted like it too. Blair sighed and examined the ground to find a safe spot to sit down on. Between the broken glass and the frosted wood, there wasn’t a wide selection. She took off her jacket and her scarf and lay it down in a spot that had a little less glass. She then sat down on the patch, facing Molly with crossed arms. She stared, Molly didn’t return the gaze. The maturity that once sat clearly in her soul had sprinted away. That maturity was only visible, not physical. In that, other people thought it was there, but it wasn’t really. Blair played with the frilled end of her skirt in silence as she waited for Molly to say something, an unlikely event. She was so blinded by the will to push Molly away, that she didn’t think twice when locking the door. It was an error fueled by the lack of attention Blair didn’t know she could have. It was boring, silent and awkward. Luckily, Blair had a book. She took it out of her backpack and began reading. She didn’t think it would matter, since Molly was doing her own thing as well. She was drawing. Blair began reading, her bookmark led her to the fifth chapter. No one ever expected her to be a reader. She sort of fell into the dumb blonde-type character. But Blair loved reading. She didn’t do it much in public, an image is the most important part of someone, but she liked to read when she was alone. She was fine reading in front of Molly, since Molly was about ten times more nerdy and weirder than Blair was, reading a book. She started to read, the words pulling her into a different world. That world and the pictures in her head got disturbed by a voice, pulling her out of her trance.
“Women Who Run With the Wolves,” said Molly.
Blair looked up from her book and saw Molly looking at her. She felt embarrassed, for some reason.
“W…What?”
“Women Who Run With the Wolves,” she repeated, “Isn’t that what you’re reading?”
Blair flipped the book to throw a quick glance at the cover. That was indeed the title.
“Yeah. I am reading that.”
“It’s really good.”
“Yeah, it is.”
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The silence came back. Blair was sort of surprised by the sudden comment that Molly had just made. Was she willing to start a conversation? Was she willing to make a truce, at least until they could figure out how to get out of the warehouse? Could one of these be the case, or was she just really into ‘Women Who Run With the Wolves’? Maybe yes, maybe no, maybe none of the above. Blair tried to detect what Molly had in her sketchbook, but all she could see was a big pile of nothing. A blank page that Molly was staring at with an intensity that seems to be the type that you could cut with a knife. Blair told herself to grow a pair. If Molly could talk to her for a minute, maybe she could talk to Molly for a minute… and maybe the whole world wouldn’t crash onto the ground. Blair inhaled sharply.
“Lack of inspiration?” said Blair.
Slightly startled, Molly looked up from her sketchbook to look Blair in the eye.
“What?”
“Your book… It’s a sketchbook, right? And it’s blank.”
“I know,” said Molly, “That’s why I’m here. I’ve been… sort of, blocked, lately, and Veronica told me that she was an artist and found inspiration here.”
“Oh…” said Blair. “That wasn’t fair.”
Molly perked her head up and raised an eyebrow.
“Well, she took advantage of your passion… That’s not fair,” she elaborated.
Molly smiled a little.
“Yeah, it wasn’t… Thanks.”
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They sat in silence. Molly tapped her pen almost rhythmically against her paper, as Blair continued to read. But neither of them could concentrate. They tried to imagine a world where Blair McKinney and Molly Anderson could live as friends. It scared them both a little bit, but at the same time, maybe it could represent a world where everything isn’t so bad. But that wasn’t even close to becoming a reality just because Molly complimented Blair’s reading choices and Blair showed a little compassion for the prank that’s destined to get them both killed. The planet where they coexist is just out of reach. And maybe that’s for the better… or maybe for worse. It’s such a laughable idea, that no one could ever begin to imagine. So, at the end of the day,
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who knows?
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Chapter 5
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December 30th, 1832
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As I discussed the other day, I went out to find that treasure, near Johnny. I met the most interesting person there. Her name was Marion. I don’t remember her last name, but her first name was definitely Marion. Apparently, she had received the letter from the man, as well. She was searching for the box near Johnny. I was startled when she first showed, since no one else knew about Johnny, nor did they go there. But there was Marion. She gave me a pretty smile, as soon as she saw me and then, she told me the reason for her presence. We had something in common, already; we had both received that letter. Hers was identical to mine. We searched for the box, and at the same time, we spoke. I found out that she’s the same age as me, and she’s married. She doesn’t have any kids, and doesn’t want any. She also was forced into the marriage, which I found interesting, since I’m in a similar situation. I also found out that she likes to write. Like me. It was wonderful to meet someone who really understood the mind of someone like me. While we searched, we continued to speak, so we didn’t see the time pass by. Sooner than we realized, the sun was down. I had to get back home, so we parted. She told me that she was a little disappointed that we didn’t find the box, so I told her ‘vita semper erit vita’. She said back to me ‘Forsitan, sed adhuc dolet’. It’s Latin for ‘maybe so, but it still hurts’. Marion knows latin… That thought seemed to ring in my head for way longer than necessary. Marion knows Latin. I’m glad she does, Latin is the most attractive language… She is an attractive woman. No wonder she’s already married. As we said goodnight, she told me she wanted to see me again, tomorrow. I told her that tomorrow was New Year’s eve, so I had to be with my family, and she probably had to be with hers. The conversation continued along in this exact way, with these exact words. I have it on record from memory, right here:
“Well, do you like your family?” she asked.
“Not exactly…” I replied. “They’re dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes, dead. They have lost the spark of life in their eyes, that’s the definition of dead. When you lose life. Am I wrong?”
“Of course not,” she smiled. “I always say the same thing.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “What’s the point of having the gift of life, if you can’t enjoy it to its fullest?”
“I completely agree.”
“So, if your family is dead, why don’t you leave them on New Year’s and run away to the apple tree with me. We’ll look for the box and get an extra day in… Maybe you’ll have more fun with me than you will with those walking corpses you call a family… who knows?”
“Johnny.”
“Johnny?”
“That’s what I call the apple tree. My mother used to sing me a rhyme about a young, hard-working boy named Johnny Appleseed. I thought a good name for the apple tree would be Johnny.”
Marion smiled, almost ear-to-ear. “That’s a wonderful name.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Marion.”
“Just Marion, please.”
“Alright then, Marion…” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow…?”
“I will see you tomorrow at precisely thirteen o’clock. Do not be late.”
“I won’t.”
We parted ways and I watched her walk off. I was a bit scared to run off during my family's New Year’s eve party, but I couldn’t spend one more second with them, especially considering the fact that I could be spending time with Marion instead.
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Chapter 6
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Blair McKinney grew up in a neighborhood that was nothing short of a community. A real rhythm nation-type place. The old man and the small children met every Sunday by the roller coaster, each holding a secret they had promised to keep. The barber was always showing photographs of every head he’s had the pleasure to know. The policemen, the firemen, the bankers, they all seemed to be living as one entity, underneath the blue suburban sky. As much as Blair tried to act like the stereotypical teenage moody girl, she couldn’t help but miss that small place. She missed her parents. She wondered if she was ever going to leave this place, or if she’d have to stay here with Molly, forever. The thought sent a chill through her spine. The thought and the cold. She began shivering. It had been almost three hours since they got stuck in here. They hadn’t talked much, but they made eye contact and smiled a couple of times. When Blair started shivering, Molly looked up. She stood and walked over to Blair, taking off her open button up, and handing it over to Blair. It wasn’t very thick, and it would also mean that Molly would be in nothing more than a t-shirt. But, it was okay. Blair took the shirt and smiled, graciously taking it and putting it over her white cardigan and light pink t-shirt.
“Th…Thank you, Molly,” said Blair, shaking.
“It’s fine,” said Molly, shrugging and going to sit back down in her spot.
“B…But, won’t you be cold?”
Molly thought for a moment. “Nah,” she said, “I’ll be fine.”
“Thank you.”
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There was a silence. A question popped into Molly’s mind. The kindness kept returning between the two girls, and she wondered if that meant anything. Maybe the world where Blair McKinney and Molly Anderson become friends, wasn’t so far away. After all, Molly gave Blair her shirt, complimented her book and even said ‘thanks’ to her, once. Sure, it had only been a little while… But Molly was left to wonder, could five hours in an abandoned warehouse really affect their lives so much? That’s when she came to the realization; when they do get out of here, if they do get out of here, Blair is going to go back to her gangette and forget about Molly altogether… which meant that it was the perfect time to ask her the one question that had been on her mind throughout her entire high school experience.
“Blair?” she said, almost too quietly.
Blair looked up from her own knees and nodded for Molly to continue.
“Just, don’t take this personally, but why are you such a bitch to me?”
Blair looked down at the broken floorboards in shame.
“It’s embarrassing,” she said.
“What is?”
“It’s just that… I don’t know why,” admitted Blair.
“You just… don’t know why?”
“Well, I do, but I don’t.”
Molly raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“I’m sorry… It’s just that I don’t know how to act when I’m around you. I can never figure out how to talk, I lose the ability to do things, and I forget how to pronounce my own name. The only way to stop that - or, I guess, - the only way I thought I could stop it, was to push you away. I thought that if I was super mean to you, you’d be too scared to talk to me, or to come near me. So you wouldn’t, and I’d be able to carry on. I’m just… I’m just so sorry.”
Molly thought for a moment. That was a lot to take in.
“What do you mean by that, though?” asked Molly. “I don’t think I really understand…”
“Well, I don’t really know… Sorry.”
“And how about Veronica and the others? Why do they do it?”
Blair prepared herself to confide deeply in Molly. After all, they were most likely going to die in that place, so it’s not like it mattered what they were going to say.
“Well, Courtney and Brittany were just following me, but Veronica…” Blair sighed, “It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
Blair inhaled and exhaled.
“Veronica and I, a while ago, used to… um… well, once at a party, we were both drunk and we ended up saying some things. One thing led to another, and for a while, she was, like, my steady.”
Molly’s eyes widened in surprise.
“We weren’t, like, you know…like that.We weren’t homosexuals, but we were sort of like we were going steady. But, of course, we weren’t. We were still friends… or, at least, that’s what we told ourselves. I don’t know, though. I might be a homosexual. I’m sorry, it seems like I don’t know a lot of things. I guess I took it out on you. I called you all those queer names, meanwhile I’m the one who feels like a homosexual, sometimes. It’s real embarrassing. At some point, Veronica said that she wanted us to stop it, so we did. I think she might’ve had feelings for me, and she was too scared to elaborate on them. I think she tortures you, because she thinks I like you… like like you. And she’s jealous.”
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And Molly thought the previous statement was a lot to take in. Holy shit. She thought for a while. Almost everyone around her was pretty clear about homosexuality. It was a sin, everyone knew that. Her parents didn’t tell her that it was a sin, or that they hated it, but the subject, when brought upon from the television or something like that, would make them clearly uncomfortable. Molly never thought of it in full. She had been called names, thanks to her short hair and sort of boy-like clothing, but she never thought of it. Although, even Molly had to admit that with the light of the snow, Blair’s eyes were really soft. All those passing thoughts about Blair’s clothes, and how well she pulled them off, how pretty her blonde hair was, how melodious her voice was, how perfect she was. All this time, Molly assumed it was envy. She realized that no envious person would make an internal comment about someone’s bone structure. Molly realized that Blair really was pretty, no matter how hard she didn’t want it to be true. Not to mention that she understood the meaning of a passion, and how much it shouldn’t be taken advantage of, she read smart books, she was slightly empathic… But Molly knew it was impossible for her to have a crush on Blair, no matter how small the supposed ‘crush’ may be. She prepared her brain for a proper response to give to Blair, after all of the information that the latter dumped onto her. A deep inhale, a deep exhale and she was ready to finally speak.
“But you don’t actually like me…”
“What? Oh, gosh, no, of course not… I mean, no offense, it’s just that-”
“No, no I get it, don’t worry.”
“Oh, okay, good,” Blair paused and played with the end of her skirt - a nervous tick. “You… You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you? If we get out of here alive…?”
“Of course not, I won’t tell a soul.”
“Thanks, Molly… It’s just that I…”
“Don’t worry, I get it.”
Right then, right there, Blaire surged forwards and threw up upon the glass shards and fallen snowflakes, against the creaky floorboards. She held her stomach and cried. Molly, panicked, had no idea what to do. She went over to Blair and patted her on the back for a little bit.
“I’m sorry,” said Blair through sobs. “I just… I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“Don’t worry, Blair, it’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me.”
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Molly pulled Blair against her for a hug. Blair continued to cry into Molly’s shoulder as they hugged. The former noticed that Molly smelled like pomegranate, but she tried her best to think of something else. Molly wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to being so close, emotionally and physically to Blair. She also wasn’t used to feeling this way. Like her heart was rising. Like she was on a drop ride, despite being millions of miles away from the amusement park. Molly didn’t know what to do with those feelings. They pulled apart for a second, and Blair smiled. Molly made her feel like she was cared for, appreciated, like she was listened to. Listened out of interest, and not listened to out of fear. She liked feeling like that. She liked the way Molly made her feel. Blair blinked repeatedly as Molly still held her forearms. A chill was sent throughout Blair. Molly was ice cold. She looked deeply into her eyes.
“You’re cold,” said Blair, not breaking eye contact.
“Well, I did give you my longsleeve,” said the other girl, also maintaining the long gaze.
Blair started leaning in, making Molly’s heart jump out of her chest. In those split seconds, she thought to herself; what am I doing? At the last second, Molly pulled away and cleared her throat.
“So, um… How are we going to get out of here?” she said, letting go of Blair.
“Well, maybe we could-” Blair cut off her sentence when something caught her eye.
Molly tilted her head and tried to see where Blair’s distracted gaze was heading toward.
“What is it?”
“Look over there,” said Blair, “It’s like a…”
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She got up and went toward a tree that seemed to be growing in the warehouse. It had lost all of its leaves, since it was winter, but it was huge, and you could tell that it used to provide quite a bit of shade, back when it still had them. Blair leaned down and took the book. It was a small soft cover with a latch over the front. The top was covered in snow, so she brushed it off and went to sit back next to Molly. Both girls examined the book, turning it over and tilting it. Molly put her finger on the latch.
“Open it,” said Molly.
Blair complied and removed the latch. On the inside, was pale writing in cursive, almost too small and pale to even comprehend. It was like the person who wrote it was some sort of robot who made no mistakes and who wrote like they actually paid attention in English class. Blair read over some of the bits, and soon enough, she understood the gist of what was going on.
“I think it’s a journal,” she said. “Like, a diary.”
“Read it.”
“Received a letter from an unknown person... Curious, of course, I picked up said letter and read it…” mumbled Blair, reading certain extraits, “Just seems like a lot of bullshit.”
“What year is it from?”
Blair looked down at the page, and her eyes widened in surprise.
“1834,” she said.
“1834?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you mind reading a page?”
“Sure,” said Blair. She cleared her throat and began. “December 31st, 1834. It is the last day of the year, and of course, my family is throwing a New Year’s eve party. My future husband was there, along with my mother, father, grandmother, grandfather and a few cousins and aunts and uncles. No one important. It didn’t matter who was there, I wasn’t planning on staying, anyways. Marion and I had spoken of how I would meet her near Johnny. She agreed with me on the fact that my family was dead, so she somehow convinced me to sneak away and join her to find the box. I spent all day with her, and came to the conclusion that, if she was a man, I’d be in love with her. Her eyes are soft and such a wonderful shade of blue. Dear God please kill me if I ever compare her eyes to the ocean or the sky, because they are so much better than that. Her hair is soft and feels like cotton candy, when I held it. She smells like strawberries and she seems to glow, whenever she laughs. Back to the thought I had floated earlier, if she was a man, I’d be in love with her… But maybe I’m just too embarrassed to admit that I am already in love with her. It’s only been two days, sure, but she’s everything I’d want in someone. Sweet, kind, lovely. No wonder she’s already married. Have I said that before? No matter… Today, out in the field, we talked some more. I found out more things about her. It seems that, the more she says, the more I get intrigued by her. It feels like she’s fueling my will, my smile. We didn’t find the box, just yet, but we’re getting closer…. I think. I hope. I didn’t really think of my family, when I was with Marion. For the first time, I felt no guilt, I felt no remorse and I felt no shame. My family is dead, and that was their decision, not mine. If they wanted to be dead, I can’t help them there. So, here I am, with Marion, having the time of my life. The time of my life with a fellow living human being. I got so tired, talking to corpses. It gets tiresome. Sadly, the joy was not returned when I came back home. Especially not from my future husband. A certain situation brought me much pain, much anger. I can’t exactly describe the conversation, so I’ll show, rather than tell.
I walked through the door and my future husband was sitting there, angrily.
‘Where have you been, woman?’ he said.
‘Terrible way to start a sentence,’ I answered back.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon… Where the fuck were you?!’ he yelled.
‘I was out.’
‘Out?’
‘Out with my friend, Marion.’
‘Marion?’
‘Yes, I met her recently, at the old public park.’
‘I don’t remember meeting a Marion, or a public park.’
‘That’s because you didn’t meet her, you dimwitted, ratbag jollocks, I did.’
‘What did you just call me?!’
‘I think you heard. You know, if you weren’t so dense, maybe you’d know how to be a human being. You’re dead. You’re a corpse, just like my parents and the rest of my family. The only living person I know is Marion. You are dead, Otto, and always will be. The dead will always be dead, and the living will not always be living, but will become dead. I’m making the most of my life, while you already have one foot in the emotional grave. The dead will always be dead, vita semper erit vita, and you, my friend, are the deadest corpse of all. Marion is the only one who is actually alive, and not just pretending.’
‘First of all, you’re loony, woman. Absolutely out of your mind. Second, if this ‘Marion’ is so much better than me, why don’t you marry her, for fuck’s sake?’
‘Maybe I will.’
And with that, I left. Now, I am sitting underneath Johnny, already regretting my decision. I’m waiting for Marion to come back, tomorrow. Hopefully, we can figure something out then. What a great way to start 1835…”
“That’s it?”
“That’s where the writing stops…”
“What do you think it means?”
“I think it’s just a recording of some girl’s life… could even be a prank; how would the journal survive? It’s been over a hundred years,” explained Blair.
“Good point…”
There was a pause.
“Are there more pages?” asked Molly.
“Yeah, a couple, but the rest of the pages are blank… She must’ve died, or something.”
“I guess…” Molly paused. “What was that thing she said? Vita semper… something?”
“Vita semper erit vita?”
“Yeah, that’s the one… what’s it mean?”
“Uh, It’s Latin, and I used to take a small bit of Latin… I think it means; life is life, but don’t quote me on that one. My Latin’s rusty.”
“You used to take Latin?” said Molly, holding back a chuckle.
“It wasn’t ‘Latin’, it was foreign languages. I’m not a nerd.”
“Sure, sure.”
“I’m not!”
“I think there’s a lot about you that’s way more interesting than the Blair McKinney act you put up at school… You’re a reader, you know Latin…”
“You better not tell a soul about any of that, okay, Anderson?”
“Why?”
“Because then, I’ll end up looking too much like you,” joked Blair.
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Chapter 7
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January 1st 1833
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He’s coming. I know he is. My future husband is going to arrive and kill me and Marion. I left my house yesterday night, as you already know, and I said some things. I also revealed my location, or at least, the person I’d be with. It wasn’t my smartest move, but what can you do? Marion ran away from her husband, as well. We both are living underneath Johnny, surviving off of apples. Okay, maybe ‘surviving off of apples’ is a little much… It’s only been a day. Marion and I are closer than ever. She asked if she could read my journal, and since there was nothing else to do, she agreed. What I didn’t account for, id what I said two days ago, about… Anyways, she read it and told me that she felt the same way. She told me that she found me an intriguing and wonderful person. We then held hands for a few hours. Her hands are very soft. It is night time now, and she’s sleeping. I can’t sleep. I know Otto is coming. He’s going to have a gun with him, too. I know that. I just don’t understand. All I’d ever want to do is live my vita. He’s just so dead. I can’t stand it and I don’t know what to do. We also haven’t found the box yet, but I don’t feel that we ever will. I ask myself, am I ready to die? Yes. I’d like to die bravely, die by being killed, and not by losing emotion. I don’t want to be a living corpse, like everyone else. I’ll die. I’ll die nicely, without a complaint. I don’t mind. The only regret that I would have about dying is that I would have to cut my time with Marion short. Luckily - well, not luckily, but, at least - I have a strong feeling that my future husband will kill Marion, as well. Marion and I had the most interesting conversation, earlier. I’ll write it down for you, another recording of my interactions.
“So, he’s going to kill us, right?” asked Marion.
“Yes, most likely,” I answered.
“That’s okay.”
“It is? You don’t mind?”
“Not really… I’m just glad I get to die with you.”
“That’s nice… but you don’t have to lie if you’re scared.”
“Mors semper erit mors. Death will always be death, and I’m just glad I got to know you, Frances.”
“I’m glad I got to know you too, Marion.”
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As she suspected, Otto found Johnny and arrived with his shotgun. He also arrived with Marion’s husband. Both men were drunk and jealous. A terrible combination. In one move, in one pull of the finger from each man, both women were dead, on the floor, in front of Johnny. The last thing Frances saw before her eyes grew lifeless, was Johnny’s leaves shaking back and forth, as if it was whispering ‘goodbye’. She would only hope that her body would serve as fertilizer. Maybe it did. Maybe it sprouted a forest, many trees and maybe even an unwanted, random warehouse. Maybe. Or maybe a certain angry and jealous man wanted to cover up a certain apple tree with that said supposed warehouse.
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Maybe.
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Chapter 8
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The journal was worryingly short. They had read the whole thing and put two and two together, it was a recording of some woman’s life. That life was outstandingly short, and the journal couldn’t have been more than ten pages long. It was sad, but it didn’t seem like such a crazy idea. Blair and Molly saw their own journals coming to an end, the pages getting shorter and shorter. It had been officially twenty-four hours, or so they assumed, due to the morning light. They hadn’t gotten much sleep, but luckily, the exhaust from the previous night hadn’t kicked in yet. Both girls sat on the ground, their usual spots becoming more and more worrisome, as they might be the last spots they ever sit in. Dramatic? No, they were stuck in the warehouse, no food, no water, no way out. There was no way to survive longer than three days. And one of those days had already passed. Molly and Blair sat close to each other, trying to keep a certain level of warmth in their bodies. Both of them were very thirsty and very hungry, and both of them had no idea what to do about it. There was no food or water around. They were alone, and there was no way to contact anyone on the outside. Blair realized that very quickly. The feeling overcame her and her hands grew numb. She started to cry at the thought of dying at such a young age. Molly noticed her sobbing and put her arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
“Hey, don’t worry…it’s all going to work out,” she lied.
Blair sniffled and leaned into Molly’s side. “How do you know that?” she asked.
“I don’t.”
There was a pause.
“I’m thirsty,” said Blair.
“You can just eat some snow… it’s like water and food. A two in one.”
Blair paused. She didn’t want to eat the dirty snow, but it didn’t seem like she had much of an option. Still, maybe she didn’t have to eat snow just yet. She could get to it as a last resort.
“It’s going to be okay, you know,” said Molly.
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Blair looked up to see Molly’s face. The latter was smiling, and Blair found it quite comforting. She felt safe in Molly’s arms, she felt like it really was going to be okay, even though it probably wasn’t. A small thought crossed Blair’s mind. She quickly shot it down. Not here, not now. Although, they were probably witnessing the final moments of their lives… What was the harm? Blair thought it over carefully, weighed the pros and cons, and finally decided to go through with that little thought that crossed her mind. She sat up straight, leaving Molly to have a light inquisitive look on her face. Blair shuffled closer to her, her heart hammering in her chest. She placed her hand on Molly’s jaw and pulled her head toward her in the most gentle way she could. Blair let her eyes flutter shut and leaned in. Meanwhile, Molly couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t believe what she was letting happen. Her heart was racing and her mind was reeling… It was almost as if she was enjoying it. She pushed down the thought. After all, her and Blair hadn’t even come into contact yet. But nonetheless, Molly let it happen. She let Blair shuffle closer to her, she let her put a hand on her jaw, she let her lean in, and she was about to let her kiss her. Why did the thought of kissing Blair bring so much emotion into her? Better question; why did the thought of kissing Blair bring so much positive emotion into her? Her heart was as light as a feather, soaring out of her chest, as if all this time, it had been held in a cage. Blair’s hand was soft and her hair smelt good. Molly kicked herself in the leg for thinking that. Yet, it was too late to try and lie to herself. It was too late to try and convince herself that she had absolutely no feelings for Blair McKinney. Speaking of which, she had finally come into contact with her, leaving Molly absolutely stunned. She knew it was coming, Blair was leaning in, so of course they were going to come into contact, but it startled her all the same. Kissing Molly wasn’t like anything else that she’d ever felt in his life. All this time, she felt like there was something meant for her and Molly, more than being enemies, but she never expected this. Or maybe she did. Five minutes ago, both of them thought that they were going to die. It was over. There was no point. Now, it felt like they had something to live for, a reason to keep alive. Molly felt something strange while kissing Blair. It was like her brain unclogged. It was full of colours, images, scenery. She saw flowers, she saw light, she saw a rainbow, she saw a woman, she saw a country, a forest, a cornfield, a farm, a couple, a galaxy. Her brian was full again. This ‘block’ that she had been suffering through, was finally gone. It was all thanks to Blair and the euphoric state she put her in. When they finally pulled away, Molly had her hand on Blair’s jaw as well, as she tried to slow down the fast, ferris wheel of thoughts that she had in her brain.
“I…I found it,” said Molly, still a little stunned.
Blair’s eyes were met with Molly’s. She was smiling so much, she feared her face would fall off.
“Found what?” she asked, maintaining eye contact.
“My muse.”
Molly started running her thumb against Blair’s jaw.
“W…What is it?” asked Blair, her brain troubling to function, short-circuiting too quickly.
“It’s you.”
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Blair smiled even wider, if that was possible and let out a short breathless laugh in slight embarrassment. Molly leaned back in for another kiss. Blair had never felt like this before. The way she was the center of Molly’s attention, her ‘muse’. It made her crazy. Subconsciously and accidentally, Blair giggled into the kiss. Molly pulled away and laughed at Blair’s reaction. In a rush of happiness and pure bliss, Blair uttered out the words that she had always been itching to speak, without being able to;
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
The question took Molly aback. As soon as she re-entered reality, she didn’t hesitate to give an answer.
“Yes, yes of course.”
They pulled each other into a hug. It was sweet and warm, but a certain thought hit Blair hard in the stomach, sort of keeping her from embracing the joyous moment with her now girlfriend.
“You can be my girlfriend, for the next two days we have left to live,” she said.
Molly sighed.
“No, we’re getting out of here,” she said, barely believing in her own lie.
There was a silence.
“You know, I-”
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A noise was heard. Not just a noise, a noise. There was rustling around, footsteps and almost human breathing. That meant that someone was around. Someone was around that could get help. Molly and Blair made eye contact, both realizing the same thing at the same time; they were saved. They immediately started yelling words like ‘help us’, or ‘we’re trapped in here’. They screamed, finally a hope that they could get out alive. They got up and slammed their fists against the walls, the doors, trying to make it known to the passing person that they were in there. After a few long seconds, they stopped to hear if the other person had responded. All that could be heard was a sharp, loud scream. Repeatedly.
Molly’s heart dropped and the nausea entered her system. What was that? She looked over to Blair, who seemed to be as worried as her. The sounds kept getting louder, a sort of smacking noise hitting against something. They couldn’t see the outside, the windows were too high to see out of. There was a second floor in the warehouse, no stairs to go up it, though. It was probable that it used to have stairs, back when it was up and running. It didn’t anymore. The second floor housed all of the windows, making it so that there was no way to exit through them. The banging got louder and louder and closer and closer. Blair attached herself closer to Molly’s side in fear. They didn’t know where to go, since the direction of the noise was impossible to find. The anxiety rose in their shaking bodies as it got closer.
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They covered their mouths with their quivering hands, tears forming in their eyes. Suddenly, a banging sound against the door startled them. Blair let out a yelp, quickly stopping herself by pressing her hand harder against her own mouth. They didn’t want to be murdered, after all. The banging on the door would continue, stop for a while, then continue again. In a dark forest, at night, with no one around, opening the door was a death wish. The screaming noises got louder and louder. There was a slapping noise that went along with it. Not slapping, more of a hitting noise. As if the possible threat was sharpening the blade they were prepared to kill their prey with. The wrestling of the wind, the settling of the floorboards, all added to the stress of the situation, their hearts thumping in their chests and causing extreme nausea. Molly, terrified out of her mind, kept telling herself; ‘no, this doesn’t happen to you, always the other guy. Just the guy in the newspaper, not you.’, for some sort of comfort. It seemed to have worked, since she wasn’t fainting. Blair, meanwhile, was freaking out. Her legs were shaking and it was taking every inch of her disappearing strength not to throw up on the ground and reveal a tell-tale sign of their presence. Molly knew that she was going to die here, but she never thought that she would go like this. The screaming went higher, like a roller coaster, or a song. Blair latched onto Molly’s arm, searching hard for some sort of comfort, for safety. She regretted everything. This was a suicide; she came here, she locked herself and Molly in, now she was paying for it with her life. All these things that Blair did, all the times that she was a bitch to everyone, she thought to herself, ‘why did I do it?’. She apologized to God, in her brain. Praying, begging for forgiveness. Finally, after countless minutes of stress, high anxiety and screaming noises, the mysterious third party at the other end of the door ceased banging on the door. There was a pause. The third party knocked very gently against the door.
“Molly? Are you in there?”
Molly let the breath she was holding in out of her system. She recognized the voice immediately.
“Reggie?! Is that you?!”
Blair, slightly relieved, removed her hand from her mouth and looked at Molly, her eyes wide.
“Yeah, it’s me,” said Reggie, on the other end of the door. “What the hell are you doing in there?! Everyone’s, like, looking for you and shit. The police are at our house and everything… Is that other girl in there with you? What was her name? Blake? They’re looking for her too.”
“Y…Yes, Blair McKinney is with me too.”
“Hi Reggie, I’m Blair.”
“Oh, hi.”
“Reg, can you get us out of here?” said Molly.
“Yeah, I have a key.”
“A key…? Where’d you find it?”
“I don’t know… It was out here, around that big tree, inside a small box.”
“A box?” muttered Blair, almost as if it were to herself.
There was a sound against the door. It opened and Reggie Anderson stood in the doorframe, his walkman around his neck, playing music loudly, at full volume.
“Reg, man, your fucking heavy metal music scared the shit out of us.”
“Well, your disappearance scared the shit out of us! Where the fuck were you?!”
Blair looked down in shame, fiddling with her fingers, fully ready to receive the punishment, no matter how brutal, for trapping poor innocent Molly in the warehouse. She opened her mouth to confess to the crime, but Molly stepped in front of her.
“We were walking in the forest, we found this old warehouse, we stepped inside to check it out, and when we tried to leave, it was just locked.”
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Blair turned her head over to Molly in surprise. She didn’t understand why Molly had done that for her. After all, she was the one who trapped her in that godforsaken place. They started walking away, Reggie in front and the two girls trailing behind. Blair started moving closer to Molly and sort of leaned closer from the side, as if she was preparing to tell her something.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked.
Molly shrugged with a slight smile.
“Anything for my girlfriend,” Molly whispered, winking.
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Blair’s heart filled with happiness, soaring slightly as she breathed in and out. They kept walking as Blair smiled to herself. She wasn’t sure if her soul would let her live this down. The guilt would be something to follow her around for a very long eternity. Or, if she could just not hate herself so much… If she could just learn not to hate herself quite so much, maybe she could live a nice life, have Molly - who clearly had forgiven her - as her girlfriend, and finally, for once not be such a bad person. Molly caught up to Reggie, speeding up a bit. Blair followed immediately to catch up to him, but still behind.
“Say, how’d you find us, Reg?” asked Molly.
“I heard from these girls at your school. They said some chick named Blair was going up to that warehouse to pull some sort of prank. I decided to check to see if they were lying. I guess they weren’t, so I know that your whole ‘we were walking in the forest’ story was bullshit. I won’t tell, though.”
“Thanks.”
Reggie turned around to face Blair.
“So, are you cool, or are you not sorry?”
“No, no, she’s cool,” said Molly.
“Yeah. And I’m very, very sorry.”
“Alright.”
They kept walking in silence and Blair kept throwing glances at Molly. After a while, she noticed and leaned in to whisper something to Blair.
“So, at school, are you going to ignore me?” whispered Molly, a certain playfulness to her tone.
“Yes. I’m going to actually give you an address, though,” joked Blair.
“An address?”
“Yeah, so you stop talking to me; it’s an abandoned shed in the-”
“Oh, no, McKinney, nice try.”
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Chapter 9
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It had been a full month since the whole warehouse endeavor. Surely enough, at school, Blair and Molly were public about their newfound ‘friendship’. Confused and enraged, Veronica was angrier than anyone would have expected. Blair’s jealousy theory was unconfirmed, but confirmed at the same time. Courtney and Brittany, being as personality-less as possible, didn’t know who to follow, and ended up brainlessly following Veronica. Veronica, being a cold-hearted bitch, decided that Blair would be ‘expelled’ from the group, and she became as invisible as Molly. Not that she minded. After all, she was with Molly, and they were in a relationship.
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The warehouse was found and inspected, and the journal was published. No one knows the full identity of the person who wrote it, but her memory was honored for sure with the publishing. Both Molly and Blair owned a copy of the book that was titled ‘Johnny’. Its popularity spiked almost instantaneously, and thousands of copies were sold around the world. It became the fifth most popular short story book in the world. It was all over the news as well. The young girl’s short life, ended by her betrothed and the husband of her friend. That’s right, her ‘friend’. That’s what they call her. Can you blame them? It was only 1992… What more could they say? What mattered is that some people knew. The people who needed to know knew. Molly and Blair knew, of course.
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Molly got her inspiration back and she ended up filling up her sketchbook, five weeks after the warehouse endeavor. Most of the drawings were of Blair, but she’d never admit them. Every time Blair would ask to see them,Molly would skip to a page without a drawing of Blair. But those rare pages were getting fewer and fewer, and at one point, Blair saw one of those drawings of herself and she was beyond words. The two girls would continue their relationship, even after graduating. Then came the big question; Molly’s parents wanted her to go to college, but she wasn’t sure. Luckily, the tie-breaker was around. Blair was going to attend a certain college, and blinded by love, Molly followed her. They graduated college, and remained in a relationship. They would even become ‘roommates’ in college and lie to their families about being ‘very close friends’. Their ‘close friendship’ continued throughout their lives, and soon enough, they each told their families.
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Molly’s parents weren’t surprised. The way that she dressed, the way that she cut her hair, it wasn’t exactly a secret. What they did find surprising was that she was with Blair, and had been, all of these years. The classic lesbian stereotype didn’t fit Blair, and of course, those straight people couldn’t wrap their heads around it. But Molly and Blair didn’t need them to wrap their heads around it. They just needed to be happy. Blair’s parents had a completely different reaction. They were surprised as well, just not in such a good way. After a long night of yelling, throwing amendments and morals, Blair’s parents told and warned her not to return to the house she once called her own. It was a sad moment, sure, but Molly and the Andersons were there to support her. And it wasn’t like she lived with her parents, anyways, so it wasn’t a big loss, housing wise. The only loss was the loss of status quo. There was a big change in her life now, that she wasn’t ever going to get back. She had lost her parents, her family. As she cried, her only thought was; ‘this isn’t supposed to happen to the good guys.’.
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Another big change hit Molly and Blair, about five years later. It was 2003, and everything seemed like it was going upwards. Since the nineties, everything changed, sure, but the most impacting change hit in 2003. Yes, there were new electronics, new computers, faster internet, more CGI, graphic design was now a thing, the prime minister changed, the population grew wider, the world got bigger, but one change truly hit the whole world where it hurt, in a good way. Gay marriage was legalized in 2003, in Ontario. Immediately after hearing the news, Molly and Blair rushed to propose, and they got married. Blair forgot about her family, just for one night, just for one week, just for one month… Soon enough, being married to Molly and being so happy, made her forget altogether.
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After being married for three years, Molly and Blair thought that it would be appropriate to adopt children, so they did. They only adopted one child.
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Her name was Frances.
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Soon, Blair and Molly grew old together, truly embracing the life they were so grateful to even have the chance to have. It didn;t matter anymore that confusion used to be a thing. They could now understand who they were, and that’s what mattered. They got to live out the end of their teenagehood together, their young adulthood together, their adulthood together, their midlife together, their seniority together, their death together. That was more than important.
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After all, maybe getting stuck in that goddamn warehouse wasn’t such a bad thing.
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