Chapter Fourteen

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"What's wrong with you this time?" her mother said doubtfully as she approached young Molly's bed.

"I'm sick," Molly responded. "I keep shaking."

Her hand touched Molly's forehead with a light sigh. "Hm. You're burning up. How long have you been shaking for?"

"Since I woke up," six-year-old Molly said quietly. "I keep seeing things, momma. Something scary is in my room."

Her mother smiled, despite knowing her daughter was afraid. "It's not real, Molly. Nothing can hurt you while I'm here."

"It looks real," Molly whimpered.

"I know it does. It's just the fever. I'm going to call a doctor."

"Don't leave me!" Molly cried. "The monster, it-"

"Let me ask you something," her mother said. "Did you see this monster before today?"

"No."

"So you've never seen this monster before you became sick?"

"No, but-"

"So, if you only see the monster now, when you are sick, doesn't that mean that the sickness is causing it?"

Molly sighed. "I guess."

"I promise you," her mother whispered. "The only monsters in this world are the ones we all see."

"Humans?" Molly asked. Her mother nodded.

"Not all humans but some. That's why nothing can hurt you when I'm here because I can see them, too."

"Okay, momma."

"I love you. Now I'm going to call that doctor. We'll get you well again."

We'll get you well again. Molly repeats her mother's words to herself as she stands at the window of a private cubical. Only humans are monsters.

"Molly?"

The voice comes from behind her. She doesn't flinch. She watches the sun lighting up the clear, blue sky with a brand-new day. A day she shouldn't see.

"My name is Doctor Alan Ranch. I'm a psychologist at the hospital. I understand you've been given a physical examination which concluded some mild bruising to your wrists and arm but they should heal over the next few days. I'm here to ask you a few questions about the events of tonight."

Molly takes a deep breath and turns around with her lips twisting into a fake smile that pains her to form. "I'm fine, really. My wrists hurt a little but that's all. I climbed over the wall to get a better view of the water and I slipped and thankfully someone was there to help. It's been a long night and I'm really tired."

"I understand," he says, walking closer with a clipboard to his chest. The man is tall, middle-aged, and has slick, gelled dark hair. He wears glasses, so it's hard to tell what his eyes are like. Not that she cares. "But, I'm afraid you won't be leaving just yet."

"This is pointless," she argues. "I've been here hours, can't I go home?"

"Molly, we've already contacted your legal guardians," Alan says. "And the police have spoken to them. We know that you left them a suicide note."

Crap. She had forgotten about that. How did she forget? Why did she write it! She wasn't expecting to be saved or interrupted, she didn't expect any of this, how is she supposed to lie her way out now?

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