Drowning in a Hellhole

[Irina Ivanov]

Dreams of drowning, dreams of drowning, dreams of...no, they were nightmares. But...they were nothing compared to the nightmare that was the waking world. Wait-

When did she fall asleep?

((Molly McKenzie continued from For What It's Worth))

Molly woke from a deep, suffocating slumber, sweating and taking deep breaths. Wrapped around her arms was a pink bunny. She remembered trying her best to stay awake, desperately trying to keep her eyes open in the night, trying to listen to any noises in the night. But somewhere in that hazy state, Molly had fell asleep.

And somehow had lived to tell the tale.

She wasn't anymore awake then she was during the early hours of the morning, and the only thing that woke her up was the morning announcement. Molly had closed her ears to try and block out the horrible sound of the truth, but she couldn't. People she recognised died, people that she liked died, people she hated died. And then...when would she be the name everyone recognised on the announcement?

Molly forced herself up, grabbing the side of a boat, Molly tried to force herself awake. She would not be the one who was picked off in the night, she will not die. No matter what.

No matter the cost? Molly looked down at the pink bunny. It was Kian's weapon, given as a sick joke. Molly was in fact, rather lucky, considering all things. At least she could use a sledgehammer. But people like Kian was not lucky, they were the first ones to be picked off. Could she really....do that?

Molly felt disgusted at herself for thinking it, but....she was glad people had died. It was such a selfish thought, but she was. That meant the odds of her getting back home became just a little better everytime. Best of all, she did not have to reduce the odds herself, sickos were already doing that for her.

But at some point, if she wanted to go home, which was something she wanted more then anything, then she'll have to...reduce the numbers. She'll have to kill people. People, not animals, faceless figures, but people. People like Kian.

But for now, Molly didn't even have the energy to stand up and walk, as her legs gave way and she fell right back down. Her vision was bad, and her body felt like they were filled with cement. She was quite simply, far too tired to do anything. Pathetic. The wall she was looking at had a sail. That sail had a boat and a little mermaid on it. Even they were laughing at her, as her ears rang with sound that warped into hazey laughter. Or atleast, sounded like it.

Don't cry.

[Irina Ivanov]

....
....
....
Molly's resolve was not solidified in a short time. For goodness knows how long, she was just resting, drifting between dream and reality. Daylight shone on her as if she was a godly saint who had the sun and the stars smiling on her. Of course, that was the very opposite of what she was. She was a fallen little devil, and the universe and its power had turned back on her. Molly covered her face with her hands, covering herself from the unbearable honey gold light she had turned her back on, but not completely.

Her resolve wavered by the second. So many thoughts and factors attacked at it, and it was never even all that strong in the first place. The lonely, soundless warehouse left her alone with her thoughts, and their strong attacks began to wear down on her. She felt herself being overwhelmed, and started whispering her arguments, to try and hear herself over the noise.

She wasn't playing their games. She wasn't a monster. She wasn't weak. No, Molly was desperate, a fallen star, and pitiful...right? Her life had just begun, like a chick just out of her mother's shadows, and now...it was going to end.

No, that was not how Molly wanted to be remembered as. She wasn't going to be a number, she wasn't going to be a tragic figure who people would look on and pity. She didn't want to be forgotten, she didn't want to go before her life had just begun.

Standing up, Molly's expression was unreadable, especially since her already messy hair had fallen over her. She looked down at her sledgehammer one more time. And then at the maritime decorations. How could she have ever thought this was an escape from this hellhole? This was nothing but a mocking, echoing, dangerous warehouse that was just as much in the hellhole as any other place.

She couldn't stay here, she couldn't bear the horrific silence. She couldn't bear the sea maidens and the sails staring mockingly at her anymore. She had spent so much time with others, pandering to them...that to be alone was maddening.

Molly, grabbing her duffel bag, ran from the warehouse in a mad rush. Indeed it was mad. She didn't know where to go, who to go to.

All Molly knew, was that she was going to go home. That was her resolve. A single desire, a single thought, that was her only motivation. Perhaps, maybe that was all Molly needed.

(Molly McKenzie continued in Hiding From The Truth)