i believe in yesterday ☽ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 [𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

the sounds of the door creaking open made her mother's ears perk instantly. she was waiting for this moment for nearly twenty-four hours. molly tip-toed in, although she knew there would be no avoiding it.

she walked straight past her mother without batting an eye. that was, until, her mother stopped her.

"molly mayweather, you come right back here," she seethed. with teeth gritted and hair in a tizzy, her mother was raging. molly closed her eyes, took a deep breath and turned around. she was just at the bottom of the second step, too.

she slowly walked back over to her mother who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"would you like to tell me why you didn't come home yesterday, and why you didn't even bother to call and say whether or not you were coming home?"

"i can explain," molly's mother seemed to be hanging on only by a thread. "i got caught up in something when i tried to get home... wait, aren't you mad?"

"i'm only mad because you're blowing your future away. it cost me nearly nothing, molly. you could've become a doctor!" she explained. "i was worried sick!"

"it wasn't my fault, i-"

"you're smarter than that. you could've found a way around whatever obstacle you were facing," she replied sorely. "but, you didn't. what will you do now? become a prostitute?"

"i can look for jobs, mother. as you said, i'm smart," molly hastily responded. she looked down at her feet and the shoes her mother bought her. the clothes her mother bought. the carpet her mother bought.

now it was her responsibility.

"apparently not smart enough," that was when her mother really hurt her. "find a job, you shite." she murmured the last part as she walked away, flinging a dish-rag to the side.

molly stood there, tears in her eyes. she dared not let them fall, so she kept her eyes on the ceiling. sighing heavily, she forced her legs to be under her control as she lugged herself up the stairs.

she didn't bother bringing her luggage in. what would be the point? she assumed her mother would kick her out. perhaps she was more merciful than she anticipated. giving in to the tug in her heart, she let the tears flow out only when she reached her near-empty room. there were only pink and yellow curtains and her sheetless bed.

she looked around. oh, the memories. how many sleepless nights did she spend in here, thinking of paul and john, her first loves?

she leaned back into her door after closing it, feeling a rush of emotions come on. she let it all out. the tears. the heartache. the pain.

no college. no friends. no job. no george. no john. no paul or pete or stu. no stick. the only thing she had was sadness in her eyes and guilt weighing her down.

she quietly sobbed, probably getting salty tears and snot everywhere. she felt her dress hitch up, but she didn't care. she couldn't care less, in fact. she might as well just strip naked and lay in the total abyss of nothing as she fades away.

she couldn't do that. could she?

molly wiped her tears off her cheeks and chin. she stood up and walked over to her bed to continue crying there, curled into a ball, but she hit her foot on something under the bed on the way.

"oh, my—heaven's sake! good grace..." she looked down to see what hit her foot.

she couldn't see it from standing up, so she sat back down on her carpeted floor, pulling a small box out from under the bed. it seemed to be a shoebox. one she couldn't recognize, though.