"Molly, are you listening?"
"Hm?"
"Hello." Alan waves a hand in front of her eyes and then pulls it back when she looks at him.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "What were you saying?"
They're sat outside on a bench after he convinced her to take a long morning walk around the hospital grounds. It's a chilly day and Molly is wearing a coat that she tucks her hands into as she stares at the cloudy sky. She's been trying to listen but her mind is somewhere else. She spent most of her evening waiting for Charlie to call and when he didn't she dragged the disappointment into her morning.
"I've got some good news," Alan says. "After your release tomorrow I'm going to continue our treatment plan at your home."
"Is that allowed?" she whispers. "I thought you were a hospital psychologist?"
"It took a lot of convincing but they're increasing your funds. I'll be able to make home visits twice a week and I'll be on call whenever you need me."
"You don't do that for any of your other patients. Why me?"
"None of my other patients have been in therapy as long as you," he says. "Your case is different, you know that."
"Do you think I'm still a risk?"
"Honestly, I do. I'd like to believe otherwise but no amount of psychology degrees can make me understand someone whole." He pauses with a long breath and looks out at the trees as he asks her a question she's been dreading to answer. "When was the last time you thought about killing yourself?"
She truthfully doesn't know. At the beginning she imagined she would spend the entire five days thinking about it, lying through her teeth just so she could be released and try again. But Saturday seems so long ago now. As though she's lived a lifetime in between.
"I can't remember."
Alan smiles as he looks at her. "That means it wasn't today."
"No," she says. "Monday night was the last time I felt out of control. The truth is, I'm confused."
"That's a good thing. Confusion is the pause. You just have to see past it. If I've confused you then I've done my job right."
Molly grins and then it drops. "I was so sure that it was what I wanted. In fact, I've never been surer of anything. Now there are all these doors opening. Opportunities. I didn't have them before."
"Because you never imagined yourself as an adult before," he says. "Your teenage years have just slipped right by and usually those are the years that we start to develop our talents and skills that prepare us for the future. You'll have to think about what you want to be, the life you want to lead, career choices and stability. And eventually, a husband and children."
"Maybe I'll adopt," Molly whispers.
"Or maybe you'll adopt. Either way, that life is yours. You can do what you want with it. You can choose to fill it with positivity and you can choose to spend it with someone that will make you so happy that all of this will feel like a distant dream. You can be that person; I know you can. You might be a lost cause to every other therapist but I don't believe that such things exist. It's never too late until fate says so."
Molly sighs. "I have so much catching up to do. I don't even think I'll graduate."
"Oh come on, a smart girl like you? You'll have no problem catching up. Graduation is months away."
"But what about everything that comes after?" Molly says doubtfully. "School will end and then what? I don't even know if I have enough money to go to college, what would I even major in?" She is mostly asking herself these questions and she's starting to panic about it. She wonders if that's normal, if every other person her age is experiencing the same doubts.
"Have you ever thought to ask your foster parents those questions?" Alan says.
She shakes her head.
"They can arrange a meeting between yourself and your family's lawyer," he says. "You'll be entitled to your inheritance when you turn eighteen but if you want to start preparing then it won't hurt to find out."
"They went through all of that years ago," she says. "They said it would be my decision one day to either keep or sell the house. The house was paid for so it's just been left there all these years. I can't imagine there's many people out there willing to buy a house that. . . with its history."
"You'd be surprised. These are decisions that you will have to make soon unfortunately, but you'll have help, lots of help."
"What happens if I don't take it?" she mumbles. "If I don't meet with the lawyer or sign the documents?"
"I'm not sure. They might hold it for a while but I imagine it would eventually be passed to the closest living relative. Did your parents have any siblings?"
Molly nods. "Yeah, I have an uncle from my dad's side and two aunts from my mum's side. I hardly knew them. My dad's parents died before I was born and my other grandparents. . ." She takes a deep breath and starts trembling.
"Died in a fire," Alan says.
"Yeah."
"That's something you haven't talked about yet."
"What's the point? People die around me, it's what happens. Anyway, the closest relative would be Riley."
"Riley? Who's Riley?" Alan stares at her in confusion and she realizes she hasn't talked about him either. "There's no mention of a younger sibling in your records."
"He isn't my sibling," she whispers. "He. . . um. . ." She starts thinking about him, the last time she saw him, the last time she held him in her arms and sang him to sleep. Molly wipes away her tears and starts scratching at the inside of her wrists.
"Hi, excuse me, are you Doctor Ranch?"
Molly looks up at her case worker, Abigail, who she hasn't seen since the day she was placed with Pam and Daniel. She is dressed formally with a white buttoned shirt and blue blazer. Her hand reaches out to shake Alan's before he's even had the chance to stand up.
"I'm Abigail Green, Molly's social worker. I'm sorry I couldn't be here earlier; I was on vacation."
"Pleasure," Alan mumbles. "I'll leave you alone to talk." He looks directly at Molly. "I'll be right over there if you need me."
The moment he walks away, Abigail sits down with a large breath and starts flipping through a file book.
"Hi, Molly," she says. "How are you doing?"
Molly shuffles further along the bench to put distance between them and she twists her lips into a smile that lasts half a second. "Fine."
"I understand you've been having some mental health problems and you were hospitalized due to an incident on Friday night. I'm here to do a follow up and ask you some questions which might be difficult. Are you okay for me to proceed?"
"Sure."
"Before I begin is there anything you want to tell me? Anything to do with life at home or any problems at school?"
"No, Pam and Daniel have been great. This was nothing to do with them, or school."
"You know you can tell me anything," she says quietly. "If you've been mistreated in some way, or hurt, then you can tell me. Even if it seems insignificant."
"Like I said, it was nothing to do with them." Molly doesn't like the way she's implying that her foster parents have hurt her but it's her job and she understands that. "Daniel hasn't touched me if that's what you really wanted to ask."
Abigail opens her mouth for a moment and then closes it. "Okay. I don't like having to ask these questions but it's my responsibility to make sure that your home life is stable and safe."
"I know." Molly smiles. "That's what you all say right before you get to the real point of why you're here which is to tell me I'm being relocated."
Abigail sighs and drops the file onto her lap. "I know it's only a few months before your eighteenth birthday but your safety might be compromised here."
Molly laughs and looks away. "That's what they all say, too. It's like you're reading from a script. I'm not leaving again okay? I can't keep running. I finally feel like I'm getting better here, like I could have a chance to have a normal life. And you want to take that from me?"
"I understand the situation is delicate," she whispers. "But we can have you transferred to another mental health clinic in New York and-"
"New York?" Molly demands. "I just moved thousands of miles to be here and you want to send me to New York?"
"Your new foster parents will be Michelle and Jay." She pulls a piece of paper from the file and slips it into Molly's fingers. Molly glares at the happy, smiling faces of two strangers surrounded by snow. "They've been fostering teenagers for six years. Michelle is a high school teacher and Jay owns his own transportation business. They have three children of their own and ninety percent of their fostered teenagers went on to have successful and stable lives. They are great people, Molly."
"I don't care how great they are," Molly says. "I want to stay with Pam and Daniel."
"I'm afraid you don't get a choice in your placements," Abigail says sadly. "You knew it was temporary. After you turn eighteen you can choose to come back but this has already been confirmed. Your plane leaves on Saturday afternoon at six."
"No!" Molly stands up and searches for Alan. He stares at her from across the grounds and he starts jogging towards them. "You can't make me leave." She turns to Alan desperately as tears stream down her face. "Tell her, tell her they can't relocate me."
"Molly, I know how upsetting this is," Abigail says. "But it's out of my hands."
"Upsetting?" Alan demands angrily. "Do you have any idea what this girl's been through? She's been dragged around states and homes for three years and you think that's just upsetting? She's in a damn hospital!"
"I understand," Abigail says through clenched teeth. "But it's in her best interest."
"You think relocating a suicidal girl is in her best interest? How the hell did you become a social worker? Did you just fill out some forms and miss all the training! Molly needs special care, she needs routine, she needs consistency."
"Molly's life is in danger, doctor. The FBI-"
"I don't give a shit about the FBI," Alan says angrily. "The FBI aren't here talking to her every day; they're not listening to her fears and her hopes. They don't know her and neither do you."
Abigail sighs. Even Molly is taken aback by Alan's outburst but she's grateful that he's fighting for her. "The murders in Salt Lake City are too close."
"Close?" Alan demands. "If he knew where she was then he'd already be here. He has no idea where she is and the FBI may have a say in her safety but I have a say in her state of mind and I am telling you she isn't going anywhere."
"Okay, I think it's probably best if I go. Molly is due to be released tomorrow so I'll arrange another meeting on Friday at her house. We can talk more about it then."
"Don't waste your breath," Alan hisses. "I'll be taking this case to the courts. Your system is evil!"
"Goodbye, Molly." She clears her throat. "Doctor."
She walks away with her files dangling from her fingertips and Alan turns around to shake his head at Molly. Molly hasn't moved in minutes, nothing in her body is working anymore. She just manages to gain feeling in her legs to crouch down and stroke Shiloh's fur.
"Don't worry, I'll sort this," Alan says. "It'll be fine."
He sounds so sure but Molly isn't. Just when her life is beginning to start it could all be ripped away in a few days' time. Her birthday is three months away and she doesn't know if she can make it until then. Alan is the only doctor that has ever defended her and she's never wanted to stay somewhere so badly. She'd have to give up Daisy and Henley and Lily and. . . Charlie. She takes a deep breath and moves to the bench as she feels dizzy. New York is a big city, full of loud noises and crowds of people always rushing and yelling. She's never been there but her sister visited it once and Molly remembers Savannah telling her about it. She loved it but she said it was overwhelming. If a city can overwhelm someone like Savannah then Molly doesn't stand a chance.
"The plane for New York leaves on Saturday," Molly says quietly. "I should be used to this by now."
"You shouldn't have to be used to it," Alan snarls as he sits beside her. "It isn't fair. They just give the orders but they don't think about the fact that you're a living person that has to go through it. I have a friend, he's a lawyer, I'll give him a call. If that's what you want?"
Molly nods.
"He'll get this case before a judge tomorrow."
"That soon?"
"Not soon enough," he mutters. "Come on, I'll take you back to the unit for lunch."
"I'm not really hungry," she says. "I'd like to speak to my foster parents though, could you call them?"
"Yeah, of course. You shouldn't have to be dealing with this." He shakes his head as they walk back to the hospital. "Unbelievable."
Back inside her room, Molly stands at the window and folds her arms. It's so quiet outside and she never realized just how quiet it was until she had the sounds of New York stinging into her mind. She takes a shower and spends an hour sketching to calm her nerves, trying to put it out of her mind. She falls asleep with the pencil in her hand and a horrific buzzing noise startles her awake.
Her phone vibrates on her nightstand. She tiredly glances over and holds the phone in her hand as she stares at Charlie's name. She rejects the call and she sits on the bed with her head in her hands. She's angry, she's furious. How can they do this to her? It should be her choice to stay. But it never was.
Her phone vibrates again. She swipes across angrily and puts the phone to her ear. "It's not a good time," she says.
"So you've seen it?" Charlie says.
"Seen what?"
"Turn the news on, Molly."
Molly reaches over for the remote and turns the television on. She scrolls through a few channels until she finds a news channel. The headline reads, 'Family murdered in San Francisco.' Another headline reads, 'Family annihilator strikes again.' Molly loses all the breath in her lungs as she stares at the screen. They haven't released the details yet, they're just reporting on the known, but she knows what this means.
"It happened a couple of hours ago," Charlie says. "In broad daylight too."
Molly looks at the clock. It's just after five. If there was a teenage girl living there then she would have been at school. Or maybe she wasn't today and the killer knew that. Her leg starts shaking and she closes her eyes.
"I thought you should know. I'm sorry I didn't call last night, I was-"
"I have to go," Molly says.
She disconnects the call and turns the television off. She lays back down and she cries against her pillow. She won't get her chance now; she'll have to leave. This isn't coincidence and this isn't in her head. The FBI have known all along that he was searching for her, they just never had the guts to say it to her directly. Now they don't need to because she's hearing it loud and clear. And leaving might be the only way to keep her foster family safe.