Weightless

28) Growing Up

(One day later) 3rd of July

Mollie jogs her leg incessantly. Up and down, up and down. It's a tic she knows that most people do. Though she's never been one of those to particularly have nervous tics; evidently, she's not who she thought she was.

10 seconds.

She's the sort of person who leaves when it gets difficult. Cold feet, too. Her mother has always scolded her for that. No hobbies would last for long. A year they would sometimes last to. Drama was one that stuck. Mollie supposes she's always enjoyed stepping out of herself for a moment to pretend to be someone different. Not that her self-esteem is low. It's always been high. Maybe it's the fake arguments. Mollie has always, somehow, found satisfaction in arguments.

8 seconds.

The last argument she witnessed, with Cal and Ethan, is one that she couldn't control. It brought no satisfaction. Only destruction. There wasn't much good that came out of that mess. Mollie still thinks on it - how Cal was barely holding himself together, how Ethan was crying his heart out. The blood on Cal's forearms, the tears on Ethan's cheeks accompanied by shuddering shoulders. She couldn't help them. She just had to wait til they both collapsed, arms full of eachother. Mollie has always liked people, always been good with them, but she couldn't help these two. Nothing could be said or done.

6 seconds.

In hindsight, Mollie supposes she could've done more in that situation. Hold them apart, shout some sense into them, anything. She could've defused it. Maybe? People could argue that it wasn't her responsibility, that they're grown enough to sort it themselves, but she disagrees. They're family. You always help family if they're deserving and if they have treated you right. They are deserving; and they have. They don't deserve what she did, though.

4 seconds.

She still can't believe it. Leave then, after everything? She supposes it was simply a ticking time bomb. 'It' being her. And with the possibility of... well, what's possible to happen in far less than nine months, it made it even more apparent she had to leave. Get her head together. It feels even more confused. Like she's stepped off of a fairground ride only to get onto another, dizzier and sicker with every passing moment.

2 seconds.

Despite it all, her subconscious is trying to guide her through this. No moment isn't spent thinking on this subject. In a few months time, people may tell her she's glowing, that it's the perfect time to grow a family, her parents may be proud, and she'll stare down in her arms and feel a glow of joy. It's in her dreams. In her daydreams too. A baby's face even seems to be reflected in her cereal in the mornings.

0 seconds.

A baby. That's her secret. A little and teeny, fragile as a flower, gurgling baby. And what a secret to have. A possibility of having a life inside of you alongside your own, a second heart growing in your womb. It's magical - wonderful. Alongside that, it's terrifying too.

Mollie squeezes her eyes closed. The test is in her hand, the screen face-down in her palm. She's not strong enough to look - to see and to acknowledge. She wants to get up from the edge of this bath, to put her shoes on and to run away. That's not a possibility.

The problem with pregnancy is that you can't run from it when it gets hard. Because it's in you. You are it. The more you run, the more it follows. Same with family. It feels like you're tangled. Sometimes it feels good to be tied to them and other times it feels like a noose around your neck.