Page 5 of Where's Molly

I could run… But where would I go? I couldn't leave my four-month-old sister alone, nor did I have anywhere safe to take her.

My mind is spinning over different scenarios, but each time, I come to the same conclusion. I'm helpless.

“I’ve actually been needing some help around this place. Why doesn't she stay here with me, and I’ll pay—”

“You got eyes for my daughter or somethin’, buddy? Why don’t you mind your own goddamn business, huh?” Dad snaps, glaring at Mario.

“It’s fine,” I whisper, glancing at the strange man nervously. He’s still staring at me, sending a cold shiver down my spine. Whoever he is, he’s the reaper, and wherever he takes me, I won’t be going anywhere but down.

“Go with him, Molly. I’m not gonna tell you again,” Dad barks.

Working to swallow, I hesitantly step away from the counter. Sparing Mario one last glance, I tuck my chin down and walk toward the man, adrenaline releasing into my veins with an intensity I’ve never felt before. My pulse is thundering in my ears, and I’m beginning to feel nauseous.

A wicked smile curls one side of the stranger's lips, and my stomach fills with acid, bile teasing the bottom of my throat.

“Your dad and I are good friends, don’t worry,” he assures, grinning wider as if that’s supposed to ease my nerves.

It feels as if there is glue on the bottom of my feet, making each step difficult as we head toward the door.

I can't do this.I can't just let this man take me so easily. Wherever I'm going, I won't go without a fight.

I'll take Layla and find somewhere for us to go. Because wherever that is, ithasto be better than where we are now. Even if I’m a fucking fugitive wanted for kidnapping, I’ll find a way for us to survive.

Just as the man opens the door, the bell chiming, I take off down the aisle to my right.

“Hey!” Dad shouts, prompting his friend to whip around. He wastes no time charging after me, causing my heart to jump in my throat.

Instinctively, I grab a few items from the shelves and throw them on the ground behind me. Bags of chips, granola bars, and other foods scatter across the dirty tile, but it doesn't deter him. He jumps over them, his finger skating across my shoulder as I round a corner, only to find my dad standing right there. I scream, nearly smacking directly into his chest.

His arms come up to wrap around me, so I duck below him, scarcely evading them. I just manage to squeeze past him, hearing their muttered curses from behind me.

“Goddammit, you little bitch!” Dad spits.

Heart pounding viciously against my rib cage, I dart down another aisle, seeing Mario come into view. He’s holding a baseball bat while speaking frantically on the phone with people who I assume are the police.

“Get here now!” Mario shouts over the phone.

I send more itemsflying to the ground. This time, it's bottles of soda, all bouncing on the ground, causing some of them to pop open or completely explode.

Quickly, I glance over my shoulder just as the two men stop short of the spillage. I catch sight of the demonic look passing over my father's face. And I know that whatever they have planned for me, it'll make my home life seem like Candy Land.

They split up, Dad going in one direction and the man running to the opposite aisle. They're going to trap me.

Panic invades my senses, and I attempt to backtrack and climb over one of the shelves. The man rounds the corner and charges toward me.

I'm determined to keep going, until I see him reach into the back of his jeans in my peripheral, followed by a distinct click.

I freeze, hanging halfway on the shelf with ice running through my veins, then peer over my shoulder.

Mario is now staring down the barrel of a gun, his face frozen in terror while the man holds it steadily. His face is twisted in anger as he pants heavily.

“I will fucking shoot him. You really want that death on your hands, little girl?” the man hisses.

A thunderous expression is on Dad’s face as he stomps toward me, pointing toward the back door labeled for employees only.

“Let’s go. Right fucking now!”

I have no choice but to listen.

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