As I said in my previously abandoned story, here is my brand new story. I won't say much, just that I only own Molly Harper, her family, and Koda. The cover image was made by the incredible Chocolate_Frog from TDA. Hope you all enjoy.

"Alright, class, that's it for today. Have a good weekend—don't forget to finish your reading!"

As soon as Obstetric Ultrasonography concluded, most of my classmates (the class had been reduced considerably that day, probably due to that rash of flu breakouts this week) hastily threw their belongings into their bags and practically bolted out of the door. They may have been graduate students, but it was almost the weekend—no matter how dedicated you were, the Friday bug could always get a bite out of you. In the blink of an eye, the classroom was empty, besides Professor Andrews and me.

I had no honest reason to rush out of that room. To be honest, it was one of my favorite classrooms in all of Patton Hall; the cement walls were lined with various diagrams of fetus' and sonograms. With every glance, your eyes were ultimately attacked with books, ranging from dictionaries to basic gynecology textbooks to complicated obstetric encyclopedias. The half of the room that wasn't taken up by bookcases was covered with ceiling-high windows; during the middle of the day, when the sun was brutally beating down upon the outskirts of Atlanta, it would become sweltering inside the classroom. For most of the students, it was unbearable. I, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of it.

Making sure to take my time, I neatly bundled my handwritten notes into my color-coded binder, stowed that and my spotless textbooks away in my backpack, and slowly got to my feet. As I passed by Professor Andrews' desk, I expected the middle-aged blonde to simply nod at me before going back to grading her papers. Just a few more steps until my own weekend would begin, and I would finally be able to visit my mother.

"Miss Harper—wait a second, will you?"

I halted immediately at Andrews' voice, biting my lip anxiously as I turned back to her. "Yes, Professor?" I asked her as she approached me with a packet of papers clutched in her hands.

Professor Andrews was one of those instructors who, no matter how stern she was, instantly earned your respect. By first appearances, she seemed rather frightening—from her dark steely gaze to her imposing height, she was the epitome of a great mentor. Her extraordinary resume could have rivaled any of the professors at Emory University, and she had a remarkable way of inspiring her students to achieve their best. It was another reason why I enjoyed her class the most—I aspired nothing more than find some way to prove myself to her.

"I took the pleasure of grading your exam just before class," said Andrews, glancing down at the papers she still held. "I must say, I was quite impressed—you're the first person to ever earn a perfect score on it."

"R-really?" I couldn't help but sputter. Sure, I normally did fairly well on my schoolwork, but I never actually expected to receive a perfect score on anything.

"Yes," replied Professor Andrews, appearing mildly surprised by my reaction. "In particular, your essay on the inaccuracy of discerning a fetus' sex before 13 weeks was excellent. I'll be using it as an example for the rest of your classmates on Monday; hopefully they'll take quite a few lessons from it." At my embarrassed grin, she added, "I figured I'd tell you now, so you can at least boast about it to your family this weekend."

"I definitely will," I beamed up at Professor Andrews, delicately taking my exam from her. "Thank you, Professor."

She nodded, which I took for a dismissal. As I slowly began to retreat, my professor added, "Another thing, Harper. You should have some more confidence in your work; you're one of the brightest students in your class—I've heard nothing but the best from the rest of your professors—but you don't seem to realize it. To be the best, Molly, you need to be confident in your abilities. If you do that, you'll be unstoppable."

Nodding, I replied, "I'll do my best, Professor—I can promise you that."

The corners of Andrews' mouth seemed to turn up for just a moment before they settled into their usual flat line. She turned to return to her desk, and I took the opportunity to, after hastily wishing her a wonderful weekend, hurry out of the classroom. The first thought that came to my mind was not Professor Andrews' lecture, nor that the weekend was about to begin. Instead, I was too busy worrying about how much I had left to do.

When people think of college, they automatically imagine arrogant fraternities, thrilling parties, and underage drinking. They envision smiling and laughing with friends, lovers, and everything in between. They snort at the thought of actually attending class, let alone working to achieve their very best. To these people, college was all about eternal friendships and unforgettable memories, and the occasional hangover.

For me, as a graduate student majoring in Obstetrics and Gynecology, I didn't experience any of this. There was no raves, no waking up in a stranger's bed, no laughing off work. Every morning, like clockwork, I was up at five o'clock, constantly offering myself enough time to be the first student to arrive for class. Instead of chatting with my classmates during breaks, I had my light-brown-haired head buried in a textbook, desperate to get even more ahead in my readings. Throughout mealtimes, I always sat alone, a book—normally set in the Victorian era—in hand and desperately trying to avoid the taste of the gruesome cafeteria food. At night, after three hours of homework and another two for studying, I was curled up in bed, fast asleep, ready to take on the next day.

Thus was my first seven and a half years at Emory University—I had virtually no friends, isolated from my classmates and even some of my more lax professors. It wasn't from shyness, but more from my disinterest in the immaturity of people my own age. My only source of socialization, besides class, was with my mother, who I talked to three times a day. She was my ultimate best friend, constantly whispering encouragement in my ear as she helped guide me through my quest to fulfill my dream of earning my degree. If it wasn't for her, I'm not sure if I would have even survived my time at college (you'll soon find the irony in these words as my story continues).

My seclusion at Emory was the reason why I was not giggling with my friends about any weekend plans that Friday afternoon. Instead, I was busy packing most of my belongings—which wasn't much—into my suitcase and preparing for my hour-long trip my parents' home in Cumming. It seemed like a good idea to keep to myself that day—everyone seemed to be on edge. It was probably from the flu that seemed to be floating around Emory; it seemed everyone was holed up in bed with a fever.

After an hour of stowing as many books and textbooks into my backpack and suitcase as possible, I set off, alone, out of my room, laden down with my possessions and already beginning to sweat from the sticky Atlanta heat. As soon as my car was full, I began my drive to Cumming—there was a slight delay from the rash of people desperate to leave the University for some reason.

As was tradition, I pulled my phone out of my purse and dialed my mother. As soon as I heard the click of her phone being answered, I didn't wait for her to be the first to speak. "Just left Emory," I said without a greeting. "I'll hopefully be there in an hour or two, depending on this traffic."

"Alright, darling," came my mother's musical voice. "Be careful driving, okay?"

"I always do," I replied with a smile. "How are you two doing?"

"Well, I'm alright," said my mom. "But your step-father seems to be coming down with something; he's been feverish all day. If he wasn't such a stubborn fool, he'd be at the doctor's at this very moment."

"I'm fine!" I vaguely heard Chris, my step-father, shouting in the background. "Honestly, woman, you'd think I was dying from the plague or something."

"Idiot," my mother mumbled in my ear, causing a laugh to tumble from my lips. "How was class, Molly? Any word on that exam you took?"

"Perfect score," I told her, an infectious grin sprouting on my lips. "And Professor Andrews is going to use my essay as an example for the rest of the class on Monday."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" exclaimed my mother happily. "We'll just have to celebrate when you get home. Darling, I told you I had a feeling you'd do brilliantly on that test. It's hardly a surprise, of course—"

"Thanks Mom," I said. "Well, I better go—"

"Of course," said Mom, and I could easily see her nodding away. "Well, drive safely, and hurry home, yes? To be honest, I could use a break from your step-father—"

"I heard that!"

I continued to laugh and, after exchanging "I love you"s with my mom, hung up. To be honest, she and Chris were the only people I truly felt comfortable enough with to be myself. Even during high school, I had shied away from going out with friends to the mall or the movies, and instead spent most of my time with my parents. I had caught their whispers of concerns of how I never had any girlfriends spending the night, or a boyfriend kissing me good night at the front door—it was always just me, either sitting on our front porch with my nose in a book or lounging on the couch with them as we all enjoyed a movie. For me, it was perfect—to them, it was another source of apprehension for my well-being.

The drive to my parents' house was a rather odd one. For one, there was virtually no traffic leaving Atlanta, despite it being rush hour on a Friday afternoon. That was inconceivable in Atlanta; instead, all of the cars were jammed back in the other direction. For some reason, it seemed everyone was desperate to get back into the city. Perhaps there was a baseball game that night—I was hardly interested in sports, so I didn't exactly have the Braves schedule memorized yet.

Another peculiarity was, when I decided to check the radio to see where all of the traffic leaving Atlanta had vanished to, that none of the stations seemed to be working. With every turn of the dial, I was only privy to obnoxious static. Finally, after what seemed like the tenth radio station that was out of service, I turned the entire radio off, frustrated with my lack of discoveries. I couldn't help but check the date on my watch—surely it must have been Friday 13th? But, nope, it was only August 5th.

The one abnormality that should have truly made me begin to doubt what was happening was the army jets that were rocketing through the darkening sky, eventually disappearing into the miles and miles of trees. Surely something should have clicked inside of me to stop the car and call my mother, to figure out what on Earth was going on? But I continued to chug along, telling myself that nothing was wrong, that everything would be just fine.

Perhaps you are calling me foolish or naïve. I like to believe that I was just desperate to see my parents, to have them promise me that these oddities were absolutely nothing to worry about, that I was safe as long as I was within their reach. No matter how old you are, there is nothing more reassuring than a mother's soothing words to her rattled daughter.

As the streetlamps began to vanish and darkness overtook the road, my eyes began to droop. For some reason, I had trouble sleeping that night before; it was certainly biting me during this night as I struggled to keep myself awake. Of course, I had no radio to play, as, after I checked once more, the stations were all still down. I only had my headlights and the loud hum of my engine. As daydreams of home, of the roaring fireplace and mug of hot tea awaiting my arrival, filled my mind, my eyelids continued to become heavier and heavier, until it seemed sleep…was…inevitable…

BAM

Alright, so I left you all with a bit of a cliffhanger. What do you all think? I hope you all enjoyed this, as well as my new character. Don't forget to leave a review!