Merry Christmas, good luck, don't get mugged or die, please don't hate me. Love Y'all! -M
Molly's embarrassment had limits. She was a naturally shy person and as such, embarrassing her was not a hard thing to do, however calling a random girl she'd just met -who (though admittedly attractive) was clearly half frozen, starved to death, and overwhelmed to the point of literally shaking- her girlfriend was the line. It was a very deep and very prominent line that made her want to slam her head into a wall.
Then, of course, there was Mal herself.
Mal was, in the bluntest and simple way to state it, the human embodiment of a kicked puppy. Molly had known that since she opened her eyes. Mal had some of the darkest eyes that Molly had ever seen in her life and though there were squinted through swollen eyelids Molly could tell they might even rival Ripley's for most innocent looking.
In her old sweater, Mal was still little more than a skeleton with a fearful expression and black hair hanging around her face. She must've used Jo's razor to cut her hair again because the sides looked shorter. Of course, she didn't exactly have a chance to observe it in detail earlier, she'd been gripped by the panic of "holy heck there's an unconscious girl!"
Then she'd been gripped by, "Fuck, unconscious girl is attractive!"
And finally, "SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!!"
Truly, the time to take in her hair had not exactly come about. Perhaps during the initial "she's attractive!" would've been a good time, but Molly never really had a thing for hair, it was always the eyes that made her into a puddle of, "FUUUUUUUUUCK."
Which was just dandy that Mal did, in fact, have the eyes that made her into a useless pile of gayness. But mal had one other thing, the cherry on top of the big gay sundae. Mal had a tattoo and if her former clothing was any clue, she was a bit of a punk. Molly, unfortunately, had a thing for punks.
She was dead in the water.
"Earth to Molly," a voice interrupts and Molly nearly faceplants into the counter, apparently caught in her daydream, color flushing unbidden up to lick her cheeks.
"I'm here!" she calls desperately, only to meet Jo's smirking face and wish she had in fact face planted on the counter. It'd be less embarrassing.
"Not your girlfriend, eh?" Jo questions simply and, desperately, Molly smacks Jo with a spatula. The taller girl simply laughs and catches the spatula with a gloved hand. "Relax Mol', we're just joshing you."
"You're trying to kill me." Molly hisses under her breath. Jo rolls her eyes.
"Molly, do you honestly think we'd care if you liked her? I mean for real, I'm Trans, April and I have practically been married for years and Jen-"
"No!" Molly interrupts before blushing. "no... it's not... I don't..."
"Molly," Jo says gently. "We've all come from rough places. You can talk to us about yours, there's no judgment to give."
"Jo," Molly says the name like it hurts. "Please don't make me." Jo's face crumples like a Jenga tower. Molly almost feels guilty. "Jo, I-"
"No, it's fine." Jo straightens herself upright, but Molly notices that it's not as far above herself as it used to be. "you'll tell me when you're ready. There's no rush." With that she's gone, mumbling something to April about getting back to work on a project and plucking a screwdriver from Ripley's hand on the way out of the kitchen, leaving only five.
Mal looks more lost than ever.
"Project, like, school project?" she questions and April laughs shrilly.
"No, Jo graduated two years ago." She waves her hand dismissively and Molly sighs, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, but the rest of us are still in school, Jo's just freakishly smart."
"Bit of an understatement," Jen mutters, placing the, hopefully edible, pie in the oven. Mal looks a little pale.
"You mean Rosie makes you go to school?!"
"She lets us choose!" Ripley exclaims, jumping onto Jen's back. Jen winces, looking both in pain and off balance.
"And you chose to go back?!" Mal squeaks, incredulous.
"Beats sitting around doing chores all day." April decides and Molly rolls her eyes.
"Don't listen to them. They're still in middle school, they haven't died inside yet."
Jen whacks Molly over the head with a dishtowel.
"Ow!"
"The point is, Rosie doesn't force them to go to school, but if you plan on sticking around I will," Jen declares before turning back to washing dishes in the sink. Ripley has begun making herself a bubble beard while April watches with a broad smirk.
"Hang on, if they're in middle school, how old are all of you?" Mal's eyebrows have furrowed together, creating a small crease between them that looks as if it's been there often. Molly tries to direct her attention away from her and towards the sink where Jen's trying to force Ripley to wash off her bubble beard.
"Me and Rip are twelve," April mutters, jamming her thumb back in Ripley's direction, "Jo's 13," Mal begins spluttering and Molly has to jam down a giggle, that had been her reaction when she learned that the tallest Roanoke was also one of the younger ones, "and Molly's 15."
"Sixteen in about two weeks," she murmurs and turns to give Mal a smile. Mal's face turns an impressive pink color.
"A-and you," she mutters, directing her gaze in Jen's direction. Jen sighs.
"Too old for this," she mutters simply. Ripley has given her bubble eyebrows and is styling her a Santa beard. One of her eyes has begun to twitch. Molly chuckles to herself and hands Jen a towel.
"Jen's nineteen, she just comes to stay here sometimes because Rosie was friends with her mom when they were younger." She explains and Mal nods, pulling at her hair uneasily.
"So, I take it you've all been here a while?"
"Well, sorta," April mutters, "me and Jo arrived together when we were, about, nine? We've been here the longest, the first couple months we were constantly in and out, never keen on sticking here, that was until Ripley arrived."
"YEAH!" Ripley announces with vigor, launching dish bubbles everywhere and Molly coughs after inhaling some of them. "Then Molly got here just a couple months ago!"
Molly laughs nervously and offers Mal an empathetic look, "I was like you, kinda got dragged here without any clue where I was going. I hadn't been on the streets that long though, maybe two or three weeks? It's not really important."
She pretends not to notice the way that April, Ripley, and Jen are looking at her. It's the most she's said about her past since she appeared. Maybe the addition of someone equally as confused makes her feel a little more comfortable? Or maybe she's still a little overwhelmed by all that's happened this morning.
"I, uh, I've been on the streets for about a year," Mal mutters softly, finally Molly looks straight at her and Mal shrinks, shoulders curling in on herself and arms coming up to hug them. Her hair droops down just in front of her eyes and Molly has the sudden urge to push it away. She keeps herself still.
"You get kicked out?" she hears herself asking the question, but her voice sounds far away. A different time, this is not the time to get caught up in the past.
"No," Mal whispers, her voice is quiet, but not fearful, sadder than anything else. "My... my mom died, my dad left when I was little, and I didn't have anywhere to go so I just... went out."
Molly doesn't offer an apology, simply looks at Mal with something between understanding and hurt. She can't breathe.
The room seems darker, all she can see is Mal's hunched figure, twisted horribly until it resembles a much taller, much stronger woman. One with angry blue eyes and hair like a shock of white lightning down her back, Molly squeezes her eyes shut.
Breathe. She reminds herself, and so she does. She forces her lungs to take in air and clasps her hands down onto the counter. Tighter and tighter until she can feel her fingers start to bruise.
"Molly?" She whips around to find Jen facing her. "Are you alright?"
Mal's attention has been diverted to Ripley who is giving her her own bubble beard now while April chatters away about all the cool things they're going to do later. Molly takes a minute to remember how to speak.
"I-I'm fine," she whispers and turns to go back to her room, but Jen has caught her by the shoulders.
"Look, we get it if you don't want to tell us everything about you, but you can trust us, Molly, we're here for you," Jen is just as kind-hearted and caring as ever and the familiar twinge of guilt makes its way into her stomach.
"I'm sorry," her voice sounds heavy and hoarse and she feels something start to prickle at her eyes so she shuts them. "I just... I'm going back to my room." And with that, she's down the hall and huddled in the back of her closest among the deepest reaches of her clothing. Moth-eaten sweaters and forgotten dresses she hasn't worn since before she-
"Stop," she growls the word aloud, pushing her hands against the sides of her head as if she can block out the thoughts. But the dam has been opened and apparently it'll take a lot more than that not to get flooded out.
Memories like floodwater, taking over her senses and threatening to drown her in the sheer forces of it. A woman with white blonde hair and a man with a disapproving glare. She's coughing up more and more of them, soon she won't even be able to breathe.
Not that she could in the first place. What need is there to breathe when even the air itself is hostile and unforgiving. Oxygen won't come, she's choking on thoughts and emotions that have long since passed. The deep-seated fear of a child whose mother never loved them, it burns in the back of Molly's throat like alcohol.
She clamps her eyes shut and grinds her hands against her skull, trying desperately to shut them out. It's dark inside the closet but behind Molly's eyes, it's so very, very bright.
~
An abandoned whitewashed bedroom, the entirety of it untouched like a museum exhibit. Children's toys that have never been played with, clothes that have never been worn, sheets that have never been slept in. It's all for show, fake, a plastic dream not meant for Molly.
"Molly," her voice is cold, the iciest thing Molly's ever felt, her skin prickles at the noise. Her back aches.
"Yes ma'am," she whispers and turns to look at the woman. White blonde hair, cold blue eyes, frown drawn in perfectly stenciled lips. Her eyebrows draw together.
"What are you doing in here?" she snaps and Molly swallows the ache growing in her chest.
"I-I..." she doesn't have an answer other than the abandoned single crayon at her small, childish feet. She prays that the woman doesn't see it.
Her eyes are daggers, grating on Molly's skin as they drag their way down ever so slowly to land on the single blue crayon at her feet. Molly can feel the need to run building in her too tiny legs.
"What is this?" Her voice turns shrill and sharp like fingernails on a chalkboard. Molly chokes back the stinging in her eyes.
"I-I don't know what you're referring to ma'am."
Her eyes snap up to her face and Molly flinches. The woman nods as if she's confirmed her worst fears.
"Foolish girl, I've told you a thousand times-" she lurches forwards and Molly lurches back, scrambling desperately to get as far away from the woman as possible. Her spine hits the wall and the woman's hand closes around her wrist, squeezing tightly in a vice grip. Molly knows it'll bruise later. She squeaks and tries desperately to loosen the hold anyway. "You're not allowed into the bedroom! That's another night without dinner-"
"Ma'am please-!" Molly's begging, begging, her cheeks feel swollen and the tears are heavy in her eyes now, but she knows better than to cry in front of this woman.
"I am your mother!" she shouts and Molly doesn't have time to move away from the hand that comes down hard on her cheek. She can feel it begin to swell again. She'd hit the same cheek yesterday.
"Please," she hears herself whisper. The only response she gets is being forcefully pushed to the ground.
"If you want to be in here so bad, fine, you won't be allowed out for three days, no food, water, or bathroom."
The lock clicks.
Molly cries.
~
The closest is dark. Molly can't even see her hand in front of her face, but she can still tell it's shaking. The fingers trembling so rapidly that it would resemble a blur in the light, but in the darkness, it's just a single fluttering thing that twitches constantly like it's grown a mind of its own.
The mind of a frightened small animal perhaps.
She can hear the door to her bedroom open.
"H-Hey, uh, Molly...?"
It takes Molly a minute to remember why she doesn't recognize the voice.
"In here..." she makes no effort to raise her voice above a whisper. Part of her hopes that Mal won't hear her and just go back out to the others. Instead, footfalls sound gently on the floorboards before she's thrown back into the light of the real world.
For the first light she's seen in about an hour, Mal is incredibly dark. She's black clothes, dark hair, and warm colored skin like the embodiment of a sun on the cusp of night has come to greet her. Of course, Molly's still blinded, blinking rapidly and uneasily at the other girl like she can't quite process what she's seeing.
"Molly...?" Mal asks, eyebrows knotting together and lips pursed together in a frown, Molly turns her expression down to her feet, watching the socked toes as they twitch in regular intervals.
"What's up?" she lets the question hang, but her voice sounds awful and rough like she's been smoking longer than she's been alive. Mal drops down beside her, instead of immediately peppering her with the "you can talk to me-" that she's been receiving from the other girls since she showed up all she gets from Mal is silence and a gentle shoulder bump.
She's grateful.
"Just... too many people... you know?" Mal's smile is much too loose and much too tired. Molly knows it intimately.
"Yeah... I still get overwhelmed sometimes," she whispers. Mal's smile brightens just the smallest bit and Molly feels herself begin to smile back. Her eyes are still aching and she's on the verge of bursting into tears once again, but she feels better, just the tiniest bit. She brushes at her face with her sleeve.
"So, Jen get you stuffed up with pie?"
Mal snorts, it's a small sound like a dog sneezing, Molly's smile tugs at the corners of her lips again.
"I don't think I'll ever need to eat again after that."
They hang in silence and Molly sighs. It's the closest thing to peace she's gotten in a long time. She lets her head bounce back against the wall. Mal watches her silently, not commenting on the fact she's curled up in a pile of old shoes and draped in assorted items of clothing. Molly watches Mal too, the way her fingers fidget with the cuffs of her sleeves, how her shoulders rise and fall with each breath, how her eyelashes catch on the tips of her bangs when she blinks before snapping back into place. Mal's eyes bore into her, dark chocolate and warm beyond the deepest reaches of the earth's crust. Molly wonders if she could fall into them, into those deep, dark eyes.
"How'd you end up here?" Mal's voice is soft, gentle like a child scared of asking the wrong question.
"In the closet or in the home?" Molly hears herself ask. A smile tugs at the edges of Mal's lips.
"I meant the home, but the closet would probably be a good explanation too," she murmurs. Molly rolls her eyes and, without thinking, nudges the other girl with her foot.
"You don't get all my secrets, yet buddy. You wanna unravel this mystery," she dramatically points to herself, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Mal grins widely now, showing off slightly crooked teeth and pinching her cheeks in a way that makes the light catch them perfectly. Something tugs at Molly's chest, "you gotta stick around."
"Ooh, a mystery," Mal's grin doesn't leave, and it lights up her voice like a Christmas tree. Molly's throat constricts. "I might just have to stick around then."
Molly relaxes once again against the wall. "You just might."
~
Molly greets what should be a lazy Saturday morning with a crick in her neck and laughter shaking her bed. She hardly gets an eye open before a weight is suddenly thrown onto her back and she's squashed flat against the bed.
"Ripley!" she shouts and whirls on the younger girl who has begun laughing wildly, wriggling around Molly's bed and leaving absolutely no room for her until she's been kicked to the floor.
"What the hell Ripley its-" she glances at the clock and groans, "it's 5 AM!"
"It's Christmas!" Ripley replies and Molly simply stares at her in disbelief.
"It's the sixteenth."
"CHRISTMAS!"
Suddenly there's crashing in the hallway and Jo comes skidding in on her socks, sliding across the hardwood floor with all of the grace of a figure skater.
"Did I hear Christmas?!" She says, grinning broadly and completely miss judging the distance between the door and Molly's bed, falling face first into the mattress, sending Ripley flying and kicking Molly in the head.
"Ow! Jo, why are you even up this early?!" Molly asks and Jo simply shrugs, giving Molly nothing more than the rise and fall of her shoulders. She sighs and tries to get up, just in time to get a pillow in the face while Ripley climbs back into the bed, knocking off the pillow and then using Molly's face as a stepstool. She spits, Ripley's foot doesn't taste very good. "Ripley!"
"What the hell are you people doing now?!" April asks from the doorway, running a hand back through her hair and observing the scene before her.
"They kicked me out of my bed," Molly complains and April squints at the other two girls currently wrestling on Molly's mattress.
"Rip." Is all she offers before about facing and heading back down the hall.
"Wait, April!" Jo calls after the younger girl, sitting up and pushing Ripley into the mound of blankets Molly had kicked into the wall at some point during the night.
"Nope," April responds opening her door. Before she can enter her bedroom, however, Jo's jumped from Molly's bed and is tearing towards her, grinning like a maniac.
"April, C'mon! Christmas is on the way!" she says and wraps her arms around the smaller girl. April squeaks and ducks beneath her arms.
"No, ew, you've still got morning breath!" she complains, but Jo simply gives her another crazy smile before both of them are tearing down the hall laughing like maniacs. Molly grunts in distaste and stands, ready to go back to sleep, but there's still the issue of one little girl.
Ripley gives her the biggest, saddest brown eyes and sits up on her knees.
"I need someone to take me to see Santa." She whimpers and Molly tries, really she does, she tries to say no and lay back down, but Ripley's eyes seem to get bigger by the second and though her bed does seem so enticing, she already knows that sleep won't come back to her easily. She sighs and drops her head in defeat.
"Fine."
Ripley gives a great cheer and begins tearing through the apartment, chasing after both jo and April as they run in circles around the Kitchen before tearing back down the hall towards the stairwell.
Molly sighs and places both hands on her face.
"What, in the name of Billie Joe Armstrong is happening?" The voice is scarcely more than a mumble and Molly nearly jumps out of her skin from the suddenness of it.
As it is she whirls around, loses her balance and falls face first into her bedroom door. Way to go, Molly, you're literally the clumsiest person alive.
"Oh, Jesus, are you okay?!" She looks up and the mumbling person is none other than a Sleep rumpled Mal whose hair sticks up in all direction and eyes are barely even open. Some part of her thinks she's adorable but the majority of her brain is screaming that she's embarrassing herself.
"Me? Fine, good, peachy, just absolutely, positively, great-" she rushes it all out in one breath whilst trying to stand. In the same moment however Mal was reaching down to help her and in her haste she simply succeeds in headbutting Mal in the underside of her chin, nearly sending her crashing to the floor. Really Molly, get a hold of yourself. "Aw shit, I uh, I'm uh-"
Mal simply places a hand on Molly's shoulder, cupping a hand to her face and chuckling softly.
"I'm fine Molly, just surprised me," she chuckles, but her voice sounds strained and Molly really wants to dive back under the covers of her bed and never crawl out again. She claps her hands over her eyes and sighs heavily.
"I'm just not having the best morning," she mutters in defeat and Mal chuckles. It's a gentle breathy sound, one that makes Molly's chest ache.
"Yeah I got that, why are Jo, April, and Ripley running around so frantically?" Molly chuckles gently.
"It's getting close to Christmas and it's the first one they've had where there were more than three people present so they're all going a bit cuckoo. Plus Rip's just always like this."
There's the sound of something very heavy crashing in the stairwell and Molly winces. Mal looks like she agrees.
"Christmas? Already?"
'It's, like, the sixteenth," Molly offers and chuckles without humor. "These guys just don't know the definition of patience, or subtlety, or getting up at reasonable hours of the goddamn morning." She casts a venomous glare in the direction of the clock, now blinks a 5:11 at her. Mal laughs again.
"Yeah, fair enough."
"Y'know," Molly doesn't know where she's going with this, she just suddenly had the impulse to keep the conversation flowing and that's probably going to be her downfall. 'Since I'm heading out with Rip in like an hour to take her see a Mall Santa, you could tag along and get yourself some new clothes."
Mal's face suddenly turns a shade pale and Molly almost regrets asking.
"Oh, uh, It's... it's nothing I just...I don't have any money..." she mutters softly, Molly feels a gentle smile pull her mouth up.
"Mal, it's fine, we'll just bum some off of Rosie, her job is to pay for everything anyway." Mal winces.
"I just... I don't feel good about it, especially if I'm... if I'm..."
"If you're not staying here you're going to want a new coat and some shoes, winters hardly going to end after this week." Molly reminds Mal and she sighs, shoulders dropping in defeat.
"Fine, but only because now that you've mentioned its Christmas I'm craving some hot cocoa." Molly laughs, it's one of the first full laughs she's ever had. Mal gives her this look of sudden admiration and Molly wants to frame that expression for the world to see.
"I uh... ahem." she pantomimes a cough to compose herself, "I should... probably get dressed." Mal blinks and color rises into her face.
"Oh, oh yeah, right, me-uh me too.... I'll just uh.... Bye-" with that she scurries down the hallway, leaving Molly to watch with a small bit of admiration as she disappears into another closed off bedroom. She's really growing on her.
~
Molly never had good experiences at the mall. When she was a little girl it was because she was constantly dragged from store to store and forced into tiny outfits that were absolutely nothing like her. As she got older it became more because when she went she knew that it was supposed to be a "special treat" and that she'd only pay for it later if she made even the smallest of mistakes.
Later, it was because of the crowds, all the people watching and silently judging the girl with the bright blonde hair, wide shoulders, and boyish fashion sense.
However, this time is different.
Mal is right at home in the crowds, whooping and hollering and laughing her ass off until she receives the glares that Molly's always been terrified of, but then laughs in spite of them. Mal's covered in whip cream from the hot chocolates they bought at the stand forty paces back and her hair is sticking up in literally every direction, but she doesn't look as if she could care less and Molly's heart is soaring.
She hasn't laughed this hard ever and Mal seems determined to keep her laughing, throwing her hands up and around the place, talking about TV shows and Movies that Molly hasn't seen as if she grew up with them and making jokes that don't make the slightest of sense but still make it hard for Molly to breathe. It's amazing and magical and she's never felt Christmas like this.
Christmas was cold bedrooms, uncomfortable dresses, angry relatives, faux compliments and smiles laced with cyanide. Mal's Christmas is giant grins, Korean barbeque, hot cocoa, and literally anything friend on a stick they can find at a convenience stand. It's chasing her as she runs maniacally through the Dillards, thirty different Santa hats on all at once. It's laughing so hard her stomach hurts and smiling to the point her cheeks ache.
Christmas is standing in the middle of the mall, drenched head to toe is snow and tears from laughter and looking up into deep brown eyes that don't seem to be able to focus on anything else. It's sitting on Santa's lap for the first time in her life at age 15 and cackling while Mal pretends to take pictures like a proud mother. It's carrying Ripley on her shoulders and shouting at the top of her lungs in Hot topic because Mal decided that she needed to get her ears pierced.
It's something that Molly's never even dreamed of and she wants to just laugh at it because it's utterly ridiculous but it's so damn happy. Mal is happy. This girl who just got dropped in at the deep end of Molly's life is pulling her to safety after years of drowning and she's known her for a day and a half. She doesn't even begin to know how to react to that. She's known Mal for a day and already she fears to know what a world without her would be.
It's a world with cold bedrooms and angry parents, and bruises on her cheeks. It's a world she hates and fears and she's reminded of when she first showed up at Rosie's.
She remembers hiding in her room for a week and refusing to speak to literally anyone in the house. She remembers when Jo accidentally dropped a Pan while making Mac and Cheese and how she'd immediately dived beneath the kitchen Table for shelter.
She remembers meeting a very enthusiastic Ripley and screaming the first time she jumped on her back without warning. She remembers a lot of screaming that first month as Ripley tried to adjust to the 'don't touch without warning' rule.
She remembers fear of how long it would last before they kicked her out too. The fear that ran thick through her veins and turned her heart to ice. How she simply didn't let them close to her, how she shut them all out through a 3ft thick steel door that she's still trying to open again.
And how Mal somehow doesn't even seem to notice the door is there. How she's got an arm wrapped around her waist and a brand new coat on her shoulders and she's pointing fanatically at a music shop, talking a mile a minute about how she used to play guitar when she was little. She wants to live in this day forever, forever suspended in disbelief because this is what she's been dreaming of her whole life.
A friend.
It hurts and she feels like she's going to cry.
"Woah, Mol' you okay?" They've stopped beside a bench in the middle of the mall and Molly can't stop the salt welling in her eyes.
"S-sorry just... can we take a break..?" she offers Mal a weak smile and Mal's shoulders tense a bit.
"Uh... yeah, yeah of course just um... RIPLEY!" she calls after the little girl who is already halfway through the music store. "We're gonna take five real quick, don't wait up, just don't go far!"
Ripley gives them a thumbs up and disappears into the store leaving them alone. Molly sits on the nearest bench and wipes frantically at her eyes.
"Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?" Mal asks quietly and Molly laughs.
"No, no just.... All this is reminding me of when I first showed up at... Rosie's..." Molly tries to smile at Mal, but the action stings her cheeks. Mal chews her bottom lip, something darkens her face.
"Yeah... uh... you mentioned something about that yesterday..." she mutters and sinks to the bench beside Molly. Molly sighs.
"None of us come from real happy circumstances. April was orphaned at a young age, Jo was stuck in the foster system until she ran into April and they ran off together. Ripley had a huge family until they all died in a fire. Jen grew up moving in and out of foster homes and I..." Molly stops and shakes her head, she needs to talk about it at some point. She's come so close to letting someone past her walls, why can't she just fucking do it already?
"I... I got kicked out..." Mal blinks.
"Kicked out?" she asks softly and Molly nods slowly.
"It's the classic story, right? LGBT teen gets kicked out of her parent's home because they can't accept her for who she is. Straight out of a damn tabloid," she sighs and rubs at her face, "but... that's not the worst of it. My parents... my m.... That woman. She always wanted me to be just like her. She was perfect and I had to be just like her. I think she got a bit ticked off when I looked just like her but acted so different. She never wanted a daughter, she wanted a doll she could dress up and parade around like some sort of prize. Trophy wife wants a trophy daughter, huh." She wipes her eyes again. Mal's gone incredibly still, but now that she's started she can't stop.
"Then I had to go and not only just be different because I was a little tomboyish, and I was messy, and sloppy, and not smart enough, and reckless, and a wimp, and stupid and everything like that. I was already everything she didn't want me to be, then I just had to go and be gay too!" She grinds her palm against the wooden bench and forces herself to breathe, closing her eyes and forcing her lungs to take in air. The air stings.
Mal doesn't speak. Then there's a hand on hers.
Molly's eyes snap open.
Mal's looking at her with the saddest expression she's ever seen.
"I killed my mom."
She doesn't offer an explanation, doesn't offer words of consolement for all fo the things that Molly's just blurted out for the first time to anyone and for some reason she's glad. Mal's supposed to hug her and say 'I'm sorry' and "that must've been horrible" and offer all these words of encouragement and love and instead she's looking at her with something akin to fear and whispering her darkest secret.
Molly's almost glad.
"What...?" her voice sounds hoarse.
"I killed my mom." Her voice is stronger now, more sure, less scared. She sighs and leans herself against Molly's side. Instinctually Molly wraps an arm around Mal's shoulders. "When I was in... I dunno, ninth grade? Can't believe it's only been that long," Mal licks her lips and wrings out her hands.
"When I was in ninth grade I was in something of a rebellious phase, and my mom had always had pretty bad health problems. So we argued all the time, I went out and did something stupid, came home, she'd freak, I'd pretend I didn't care, all of that shit. I hit all of the check marks. Bad boys, dying my hair, getting a tattoo, bad grades, bad words, yelling at her any chance I got. It got to be too much for her heart. She never had that good of a ticker and the constant stress of raising a rebellious teenager who had an affinity for getting herself into trouble proved too much. It burst, and I rushed her to a hospital I... I watched her heart monitor go flat." Mal sighs and drops her head into her hands.
Molly doesn't know what to say, instead, she just stares as Mal quietly presses her hands to her forehead. Finally, she pulls her hand away and sighs.
"Sorry, just... I didn't know what to say about... your... situation and I just... I blurted the first thing that came to my mind. I... shouldn't have I just... you-"
"Mal." Molly stops her and takes her hands. Mal stops talking, color rising in her face.
"We all.... We've all come from sad places. All of us have done or had bad things done to us. None of us are clean, none of us are innocent or pure, but we're kids no matter how much we want to forget that sometimes. I think... I think tonight we need to just be kids, you know. Just be kids on Christmas, you and me."
"I... yeah.... Just kids...."