Page 6 of Where's Molly

There’s no more running.

I had an opportunity but couldn’t get to the exit in time. And as tempted as I am to keep fighting, I won’t risk Mario’s life.

Panting, and tears blurring my vision, I climb down from the shelf and head toward the door. As I pass Mario, I wave, whispering the word, “Bye,” before heading toward the door.

With a deep breath, I walk through the stockroom and out of the back exit. Ifollow the man through the back alley, my dad breathing down my neck as we walk. There, I'm surrounded by three more men.

There’s no chance to scream. Not as they grip my biceps, slap a cloth over my mouth, and drag me into their black van.

It's over for me. I'll never get to see Layla again.

Even worse, she’ll never see me again—the only person who took care of her—kept hersafe.

The only question I have is, will her fate be worse, or mine?

Molly

Fourteen Years Ago

June 18th, 2008

I read over thelast word I wrote on the page before snapping the journal shut. It’s a diary I’ve been secretly writing in for the past couple weeks. It’s been my only form of release, but I refuse to take it with me, even if it was the only thing that kept my detonating sanity somewhat intact. It's the only outlet I had for my pent-up rage.

And it can burn with the rest of this house, for all I care.

I hope to God another girl never finds this journal. That would mean she replaced me, and no one—no one—should ever have to experience the horrors of this house. No one innocent, at least. I wouldn't care if Francesca, Rocco, or any of his friends got a taste of their own poison one day. It's the least they fucking deserve.

My broken heart is pounding heavily against my chest, the jagged pieces cutting up the inside with each beat. However, the adrenaline coursing through my veins mutes the pain. The only thing I can feel is determination and fury. So much fucking fury.

I'm not waiting any longer.I can't.

Francesca has something planned for us in two days, and while I suspect we’ll be auctioned off, she never said.

All I know—I can’t be here when it happens.

Another day in this hellhole, and I'll lose my fucking mind. Another day without Layla, and I'll kill anyone I have to, even if it ends in my own death. It'll only be my body that dies, anyway. They've already destroyed my soul, and all that's left is an empty house that has seen as many tragedies as the one I'm planning to escape tonight.

My pulse thuds in my ears as I quietly slide out of my bed and tiptoe to the hole beneath the floorboard. When I first arrived here, I noticed the panel was loose, and after a week's effort, I finally managed to pry it up. It was just a dirty hole, but now it's the home of all my secrets and heartache.

With trembling hands, I set the journal inside, carelessly dropping the pen in after it. Then, I slide the wooden piece back into place.

There's no clock in here, but Rocco and his friends have quieted completely, which means they likely passed out. According to Francesca and her constant complaining, that typically happens around two or three AM every night.

I've been preparing for this formonths.

And now that it's finally here, I'm terrified I missed something. A small detail I didn't plan for when I've done nothingbutplan.

Theonly thing separating me from freedom are these thin walls and miles and miles of woods.

That, and the guard stationed outside the house. I've stayed up from dusk to dawn several nights to watch him, forgoing precious sleep to learn his schedule and habits. Which often led me to getting in trouble for falling asleep during lessons. Though Francesca has long since grown tired of my disobedience, she won't get rid of me either.

I'm one of four who made it through the Culling—a twisted game a group of pedophiles and rapists created for sport. The objective is to put us in the woods filled with traps, where they’ll hunt us with crossbows. If we’re hit, we're punished. If we win and outrun them, we're considered superior meat and then put up for auction.

It's an insult to kidnap us only to make us prove ourselves worthy of being kidnapped.

It makes no fucking sense and was only created so bored rich people can be less bored.

They'll never get the fucking chance.

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