When I was eleven...

"Goddamn, you're hard to pin down."

Jim Moriarty had Molly by the ankle as she squirmed out of his grasp on the cement. They were in his backyard, and she fell into one of the many holes he'd dug with Seb.

I don't wanna know what goes in those.

She ran away giggling as he growled in frustration behind her. Taking off for the fence at the back of his yard, she jumped onto it and her shoe fell off.

Dammit, should I grab it?

Jim took advantage of her momentary indecision by picking it up and chucking it at her head. It glanced off her forehead and she screeched and fell. Falling towards him, he had a similar moment of hesitation.

Should I catch her...?

She screwed shut her eyes and covered her face, but wasn't met with the dirt and rocks she expected. Opening them, she beheld the bright red face of her neighbour looking down at her. Suddenly she realized his arm was bent and shaking with the effort of holding her up, and she backed quickly away, rubbing her head.

"Dammit, Jim dontcha smirk at me, ya gave me a headache with me own shoe."

"I like your dress today Molls."

"What?" She looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head, and gingerly prodded her own.

Shit I didn't mean to say that out loud, now she probably thinks I'm gross.

"You look disgusting Molly. What on earth made you do your hair like that?"

Her face crumpled and she glared at him.

"Screw ya, Jim Moriarty, I'm gonna go."

Why would he say something like that? Do I really look bad?

She angrily grabbed her shoe from his hand and made to leave, glaring daggers into his very skull.

"No, Molls I'm sorry, you look nice. Don't go, I wanna play Truth or Dare."

Her glare softened a bit, and she sat down in the dirt, causing a cloud of dust to rise rapidly around her. He sat down gingerly, not wanting to ruin his clothes.

"Okay, truth. Do you like me?"

Molly blushed furiously.

"Jim! That's not how you play!"

I do, though.

She heard her mother calling from across the fence in her backyard, screaming something about dinner. Shooting an apologetic look at Jim, she scrambled to her feet and made to leave. He caught the hem of her dress as she walked past, effectively halting her.

He stood up slowly and she patiently waited fro him to let her go, knowing that this was one of his 'things'. It didn't end the way it had before though. He kissed her suddenly, awkwardly and she blushed bright red.

"You can go now, Molls."

She grabbed her dress from his hand, and left, butterflies in her stomach.

At dinner, they had a new place at the table. Uncle Rhys was visiting. She headed into the dining room, and surprisingly, the table was set. After her father had remarried, and then died, her stepmother had placed her obvious affections towards her uncle. Her stepmother bustled into the room, holding a pot of soup and balancing a basket of rolls on her hip.

"I hope you like tomato, Rhys." She smiled openly at him, and Molly thought she was going to vomit.

How gross.

They ate in silence, her uncle slurping loudly and staring at both women. After dinner, her stepmother and uncle retired to the living room to watch a movie, and she headed up to her room.

I couldn't care less about what they're doing.

She lost herself in Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock, and when she glanced up from the pages, she was surprised to see that it was almost one in the morning.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she braced herself for an inebriated mother to come and slur her 'goodnight'.

What appeared in her doorway was much worse.

Her uncle stood there, shirt untucked, with a bottle of malt liquor almost falling from the tips of his fingers. He advanced, lurching into the room, pervading her privacy with the smell of sex and booze.

What...?

He staggered towards her and fell into her bed, effectively trapping her beneath him. The stench was awful, and she struggled under his weight. He suddenly realized where he was and turned his head towards her, with something unidentifiable in his eyes.

He mashed his face into hers, forcing her lips open and then her teeth, squeezing her jaw with his hand until it hurt.

Underneath him, she fell still in fear as his wandering hands did more than merely hurt her jaw.

She stared at the ceiling while his hot breath ghosted over her cheeks, and no tears made their way down. When he was done, he left, crashing into the doorway and breaking the vase of daisies Jim had collected for her. It lay on the floor, a puddle of water slowly spreading and she curled up in a ball and began to shake.

Jim had been watching the whole thing from outside her window.

I couldn't have done anything. He would have killed me and possibly her. I fucking hate myself.

Once she'd fallen asleep and her limbs had stopped trembling, he gently opened the window and climbed inside. Sitting by her door, he guarded her, vowing to kill her uncle with his bare hand if he returned.

Actually, I'll kill him anyway. Pop out his eyeballs with my thumbs for him seeing my Molly. Maybe cut off his fingers, one at a time, starting with the one he fucked her with.