Molly’s eyes frantically scanned her decaying, bare room for something—anything—to hold her mother out. There was nothing she could move or pick up that would do her any good. “Dang,” Forcing herself to calm down, Molly knew that her mother struggled to climb stairs—that would buy her some time.


‘I have to get out of here,’ Molly thought. ‘I’m not taking this any longer! I’m going leave and I’m going to go find my father,’


Satisfied with her decision, with a sticking grimacing expression she went around her room looking for anything she could bring with her. All she had was clothes for the most part and a slice of slightly molded bread. ‘Augh,’ Molly thought. ‘This does me know good, but it’s better than sticking around. . . . one more problem, though—I’m on the second story. What now?’


Not enough time to react, as soon as that thought went through her head her mother burst open the door with a knife in her hand. “DANGIT!” Molly cried, her brain went into hyper-drive. Survival overcame fear and Molly jumped frantically out the window, but her mother managed to grab her by the back of her dress while Molly hung out.


Letting out a loud curse, Molly did the first thing she knew how to do. She grabbed her mother’s arm, but with second thoughts on going back up she bit down hard. A blood-curdling cry and bloody lips, Molly was quickly dropped.


The young woman landed harshly on the ground, but with no time to waste she got up and ran. Molly was sure she hurt herself, but she wasn’t sure how bad. First, Molly ran down the hill towards the bridge by the beach—she wanted her handbag, it had her art supplies and some food in it. However, when Molly got there it was gone.


Footprints marked that someone had found it and ran off with it towards Gate Town—not a friendly place; full of murderers, thieves, anything you could imagine as bad was practically there; and to make matters worse, there was no law system there. After some personal silence, Molly looked out towards the ocean.


Psssh-pssh. Fffssh-psshh. Molly’s sad eyes never seemed to lighten up when there was nothing, but for once Molly felt that nothing had become something. “My art pad’s gone,” Molly said. “But I can get it back. . . . I hope,”


Molly closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. She knew her mother would never go to Gate Town, even the old hag was no fool. But Molly needed her bag. Her father gave that to her when she was really little and before her mother lost her mind. That bag meant as much to her as her father did.


A beckoning wind hard-pressed the sand and her hair, cutting her eyes until she looked the direction it was heading to. When she turned her head over she could almost see the Gate Entrance to Gate Town. It was as if something was telling her her fate was certain. “I guess that’s it then,” Molly stated, then with a short pause. “I’m going to Gate Town.” The wind ended abruptly.