Little Miss Molly

 

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Introduction

Emmett was a single father living in a small little apartment with his seven year old daughter, Molly.

His wife had died two years ago of cancer and he saw her every day in the face of his beautiful little girl. Molly had her mother’s unruly curly brown hair but she had his muddy green eyes.

His wife, Bella, had been an artist and already Molly was following in her footsteps. She was constantly drawing, creating, and thinking up new things. Her imagination knew no bounds.

Emmett himself worked full-time as a cop. It wasn’t glorious, it wasn’t very safe or steady, but it paid the bills and was all he really knew how to do. He tried to work while Molly was at school but if he did have to work odd hours, she would go to a neighbor’s house who ran a daycare out of her home. He didn’t love the arrangement but his little Molly never made him feel guilty. The child was more loving and forgiving than he felt he deserved.

She was the most precious thing in the world to him since he lost his wife. He swore every day that he would always protect her.

 

It was a cold, rainy Wednesday morning when he pulled up to Molly’s school for a parent-teacher conference. He had managed to switch shifts with someone to allow for this meeting but it meant working late this weekend. He didn’t care, not really. He knew how important these meetings were. This is where he got to hear about her amazing art projects, and her grades, and learn about her friends, and how smart she was. Not that he needed to hear those things from a teacher but still, it reassured him that maybe Molly would turn out okay after all.

As he walked through the halls, the children’s drawings and latest works were all displayed on corkboards outside the classrooms. Idly, he studied them as he made his way to room 301. They were all various depictions of what appeared to be a doctor’s office with many people, including babies, standing around a hospital bed.

By the time he reached the 200’s, he started to grow suspicious. What kind of school project was this?

He reached classroom 301, frowning. With all of the authority ingrained in him as an investigative cop, he opened the door without knocking, his brain churning with an uneasiness that he didn’t understand.

Molly sat a desk, doodling on a paper with crayons. It looked as though she had just started.

“Hello, you must be Molly’s father.” The young teacher greeted him.

“What’s with all the creepy pictures?” he asked, letting the suspicion show through his tone. The teacher blinked, taken aback. That’s when Molly piped up.

“They’re memories, daddy, from when they put needles in our heads.”

Emmett’s head swam and he sat down hard in a chair, tears filling his eyes.

What have they done to my Molly?

 

 

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