Molly's Window

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She shivered from the cold in the room and rubbed her arms and shoulders to circulate some frictional warmth. She would have given anything for a fire or heating of any kind. She had heard stories about houses with heat that was controllable with the touch of a button. To think that people could pick the actual temperature it would be inside their home.

She was still too young to venture outside and he would continue to bring her meals from the outside world. She did not know any other way. Her mother had passed away when she was a baby and he had taken care of her. He fed her, taught her to read, and gave her gifts on small occasions. He had told her the outside was full of bad people who wanted to take her away. His job was to keep her safe. That meant she could not leave and she was confined to the small bedroom upstairs. She had been downstairs to the living area a few times, but it was a small wooden cabin and it was the warmest in the loft room where she stayed. She would only go downstairs to relieve herself. She had a few old magazines that she had read thousands of times and she would dream about the people in the magazines and pretend they were her friends. She did not know what she would do with other people and she had never seen other people, aside from him, but it was obvious they existed.

She heard the rattle and squealing of his truck as it crunched through the snow and ice outside. She scooted to the window to look down and see him get out of the old white and blood-stained pick-up. A large doe in the back of it. She didn’t mind deer meat, but it tended to get very tough and took a long time to chew, she preferred the smaller creatures like rabbits with their dense but softer meat. Hog was her favorite, with its succulent fatty deposits and greasy goodness, that melted in her mouth like candy.

“ It’s hard to find them,” he would say with a sigh as he busied himself with other work.

She never argued. She knew better. She was thankful for a place to sleep and food in her belly.

“ You don’t know what it is like out there,” he would yell at her if she mentioned anything about wants or changes. He was right, she did not know, so she stayed quiet. She heard footsteps approaching her door and quickly got into her bed and drew the blanket up to her chin and huddled her arms around her knees. She did not want him to know he had been looking out the window.

“What if someone sees you,” he would yell, gesturing to the window. He had threatened to board it up a few times. If he ever did it would be so dark. The window was not only her source of outside life but it was the only source of light in the room. She hated the dark and the sounds it made. The creatures that lurked in it and the images of stories he had told her about those creatures. He plunged through the old rickety door and stood there staring at her. She kept her eyes averted until he spoke. She felt his presence walking slowly and thoughtfully toward the bed. His large frame sat on the edge of my bed and she feared that he would break it as the frame seemed to whine under his weight. He shuffled in his jacket and pulled out a box with a shiny paper she had never seen before, and handed it out for me to grab. She glanced at it and averted her eyes yet again.

“ It’s called a present,” he said stately and took a breath, “it’s your birthday,” he grunted as he shook it for her to take. Slowly and carefully, she reached out and took the package from his meaty hand and held it in front of herself, and stared at it. She had never seen such thin and fragile silver paper before. It felt different and was silky and it didn’t seem right to touch it.

“ It’s called wrapping paper, you tear it off and the present is underneath,” he explained after glancing at my confusion. He took another deep breath and said “ you're old enough now to have something of your own”. Tear the paper, she thought! That did not seem right to destroy something so beautiful, but she did as she was told. She did not know another way. She slowly started with an edge and carefully pulled back the paper as cleanly as possible as she hoped to keep the paper to examine it later. She realized immediately that it was a book, not a used book, but a new book, with fresh clean pages and a crisp smell, not soiled by greasy fingers or tears in pages, like her magazines and newspaper clippings she had read. She looked at the title, which stated in bold print 1984 by George Orwell. She had forgotten to breathe and when she took a breath tears flowed down her face. She had never had anything new or so precious and she held it to her chest. She wanted to hug him to say something, but she looked up at him as he stood up and patted her head, and left the room without a word.

The book consumed her for the next two days. There were some words in there she did not know, but she pierced it together as best she could. When she finished it she opened the book and read it again. After day five in the early afternoon, she heard noises outside the window. It sounded like the voices of people. She slowly crept to the bottom of the window and slowly raised her head up just enough to peek through the glass. She saw a group of four people walking out of the woods toward her cabin. They were young, older than here, but not as old as him. They had on dark clothes, hats, and scarves wrapped around their necks with gloves on their hands and they were talking loudly and making gestures. They were pointing at the house and coming closer. One tall dark-haired man stopped and stared up at the house and looked towards the window. She ducked down as quickly as possible, hoping that they had not seen her. What if they had? Would they take her? Would she be eaten? Stranded in the woods? Left for the creatures? She had to stay quiet and maybe they would go away. They did not. She heard them open the door below and the stomp of their feet and the ringing of their voices. She heard them laughing. She did not understand why. Were they coming to rob her? He told her stories of people killing others for items they wanted. Did they want something? The questions flooded and panicked her mind that she was huddled so far in the corner of the room not breathing that she gasped and caught her breath, then clasped her hands over her mouth and nose to muffle any sound. She heard giggling footsteps coming up the stairs and she closed her eyes with her head in her lap. She wished she could melt into the old wood of the cabin, the gaps in the wood nipping her skin. Her heart was pounding so fast that she did not even feel the cold as she heard the door open.

“ What a shit hole this place is,” she heard a male tenny voice say.

“ Oh my God!” exclaimed a high-pitched female voice, “ there’s a girl in here!” She knelt down and I could feel the floorboards creak from across the room. She kept her eyes shut and head down and pretended they were not there. She could not look at them, but her curiosity eventually got the better of her. The female’s voice was unlike anything she had ever heard. It was the opposite of his voice, which was harsh and gruff, and angry. Her’s was sweet and soothing and like a warm hug. It caused her curiosity to slowly glance up and see a woman creeping toward her on her knees holding out a hand with soft brown eyes and smooth skin. It took her a minute to realize what the woman was saying.

“ Are you ok?” and “ Are you hurt?” and “ you must be frightened,” and “ how did you get here?”

All these questions she could not answer and did not know she just shook her head at the woman but did not move. The woman stood up and said something to the man and they left. She wanted to move; she wanted to see the woman again and to hear her voice. She was frozen with fear and could not move. All her natural instincts told her to stay put and not to move a muscle. She could still hear the people downstairs talking in quieter voices now.

“ Yes Rob!” she heard the woman’s voice again in a loud and more stern tone, “ a real little girl is upstairs”. She heard them leave and walk outside. She relaxed slightly now that she was alone, perhaps they had taken what they wanted, food, or maybe clothes, or blankets. She didn't care as long as they left.

Through the cracks in the wood, she could hear them yelling at each other, and then the woman sounded like she was having a conversation but there was no one answering. She did not move to the window and she barely breathed.

After what seemed like an eternity of elevated heart rate and shallow breathing she heard a car pull up on the crunch snow. Finally, she thought. He would take care of the people. He would make them go away. Maybe shoot them. She relaxed slightly and started to creep toward the window. Before he could get there she heard the door open and the woman's voice with another man's voice she did not recognize.

As she scooted back to the corner they both came through the door and a tall man dressed up in black and blue with what looked like a toolbelt on his hip, walked toward her slowly. She panicked, he was here to kill her. She knew it and screamed at the sight of him, but there was nowhere to go. She nestled in the corner as he came toward her and she decided there she was not going down quietly. She leaped up at him and grabbed onto his neck scratching and biting like a wild animal.

The woman came around and grabbed her back and attempted to pull her off, but she was locked in. The man reached into his pocket and she felt the sting and tingle of her body convulsing in a way she never knew. She fell off immediately and hit the floor so hard that everything went fuzzy and then black.

She awoke in a solid white room laying in a bed with cords and wires coming from her arms and fingers. Her eyes fluttered between open and closed. The light was so bright and it reflected off the walls. She decided to keep them closed as she heard people close by talking. She heard them come into the room and she opened her eyes to see them. One was the man in black and blue clothes who she attacked. He had scratch marks on his neck and she knew she caused them, but did not feel guilty. The other person was a woman, with dark hair pulled back in a tight ball on her head, also wearing a long white coat, although it did not appear warm. She tugged at her glasses and sat in a chair next to her holding some papers.

“ Good evening Molly,” she said in a soft voice as smooth as honey. “ How are you feeling?”

She remained quiet, she did not know who Molly was, but they obviously had her confused with someone else.

“She won’t speak or say anything to anyone,” the man in the black and blue clothes said in frustration. “She literally attacked me for trying to help her,”.

“ She is a child and she is frightened,” the woman replied, giving him a side glance. “She has been through a lot.”

Looking back at her she continued, “Molly,” she said taking a deep breath, “I’m going to tell you some things that may startle you, and if there is something you do not understand then you need to tell me.” The woman took another long breath while she stared at her unmoving.

“Molly,” she started again, holding up a picture of a man. It was him. The one who cared for her, gave her the book, and kept her fed. She had a moment of excitement but did not show it. “ Do you recognize this man Molly,”

She started at the picture, wanting him to be here to protect her and save her from these people. She felt her eyes moisten, but she would not allow these people to see her weakness. She did not respond, she simply stared at the woman again.

“ Molly,” she repeated again, “ please answer me, it is very important that we know the whole story. Do you recognize this man? Is this the man who has been keeping you?” she asked again.

She gave up, if it would get her out of here and back to him, then she would tell them. She took a small breath and squeaked out the softest “yes” she had ever said.

The woman smiled at her accomplishment.

“ Excellent,” she said smiling. “Now Molly, I am going to tell you something that may be very hard for you to understand, but I want you to try,” she said, putting down the picture and looking at her in the eyes for what seemed an eternity.

“The man in the picture stole you when you were very small,” she paused. “ You do not remember any of your family because you were a baby, you have been missing for eleven years. Your family is outside the door and they want to see you and they have missed you so much.” I wanted to tell you to prepare yourself because it is going to be overwhelming having a bunch of strangers hugging and kissing you, but I have told them to go very slow with you because it is going to take time for you to process all this information.” She took another breath and placed her hand on the bed. “The man you have been living with is a bad man, he is not your father, nor is he anything else he told you he was. He has kept you in that cabin, isolated so you were not found, and we do not know why he did this yet, but he is in jail and he can not hurt you anymore,” she said with a finality that she assumed meant the woman was done.

She was quite a long time, and she contemplated what the woman said and was skeptical. Who was this woman to her? Could she be trusted? How do they know she is this Molly girl? So many questions, but the biggest one in her head, she blurted out. “How can I believe you?” she said quietly, still staring at the woman.

“ Molly, your family is here, and I am going to let them in one person at a time, starting with your mother, alright?” she asked not really as a question, but more of a statement. “ You will see,” she said matter of factly. “ You look so much like your mother.”

The woman slowly gets up and quickly walks to the door at the other end of the room. She tries to follow her with her eyes, but the movements are too quick and things are blurry. The white light is too bright and it hurts her eyes to keep them open too long. She was used to candlelight and dim lighting. She might as well have been staring into the sun. Another woman came to her bed. The woman reached for her hand and immediately she felt the warmth of her touch and a comfort that she had never experienced. She slowly opened her eyes to see a tall, slender woman, with long honey-blonde hair and the biggest green eyes, that were red and wet. She was young, but the creases in her face were deep. Creased that form from years of the same depressed outcome in life. The woman did look like her, at least her hair and eyes looked like her. She had never really examined herself. She had seen herself in reflections in the window when the gleam was just right but had never truly seen herself in a mirror as the woman in the white coat held up the reflective surface to her and for the first time, she saw the woman holding her hand, but in a younger body.

If this person was truly her mother, then she had a family. A real mother. She felt the wetness on her face before she realized the tears had fallen. She realized that she could not stop as the blonde woman reached down and hugged her so tightly that she thought she might break. Her gasps between breaths only made it worse and she let out the most awful wail that she had ever heard herself make. She was not alone and she was loved. All the years of not touching and ignoring and being left alone was over. She released all those feelings into the woman's chest and she could not stop. The woman with the blonde hair stroked her head and kissed her on top of the head. She had never been kissed before and she knew that it was all true. She was Molly and she would never have to hide from the window again.