Author's Note: I'm so sorry this took so long to upload, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with this story in the middle of writing the first draft, causing it to go through multiple revisions. Also, yes, I'm aware I'm abusing the Amy tag yet again, and I'm also sorry for that. It's just so convenient to use! If anyone truly has a problem with it, you can let me know and I'll stop! Additionally, following this posting, I'll be taking a break from writing for awhile to catch up on the thousands of books I've been neglecting for the past few months, but have no fear, I will return! Anyway, without further ado, here is the season one finale of the 11785 series!

Available for download in PDF. I promise you that I don't have any viruses. I just strongly recommend it seeing as this was written in book format. Visit the Tumblr dedicated to this series, "11785", for details.

Or just read it here (:

PROLOGUE

Walter Residence
Willow, Connecticut
Thursday, October 5, 2006
9:09 PM

It was a struggle to get Molly into bed every night, but after nine years of practice, Susan Walter had become a pro. With every complaint for needing water, the bed being too cold, or the nightlight not being bright enough, Susan had learned that each was an attempt to prolong the inevitable, and had discovered a way to head off the requests by making sure they were filled before Molly was tucked in.

Being a single mother, Susan had encountered her fair share of problems when it came to dealing with the rambunctious nine-year-old she had raised. Molly, who was as imaginative as they came, was often hard to keep up with as she ran through the backyard claiming the doghouse was a castle, the rose bushes were mazes, and the swimming pool was an ocean. As Susan watched her daughter sprint around the lawn chasing Yellow—their golden retriever, named after Molly's favorite color—she would often get exhausted just observing the energy that was executed, sometimes needing to head to bed way before Molly had calmed down.

Often, Molly's imagination would extend past the backyard fun, sometimes taking it to school and getting in trouble as she pretended to be fighting dragons rather than paying attention in class. When math time came, Molly would be in Wonderland; when it was time to read, Molly would usually whip out the copy of The Hobbit her father had bought her, the last thing he had done before turning tail and skipping town; and when it came to recess, Molly would often be the one engrossing the other kids in a tale she had thought up the night before instead of playing. As her classmates listened to stories of witches casting spells in the moonlight, creatures who slept under beds and attacked only when they were sure the parents had left the room, and of mermaids who lived in her bathtub, Molly held a captive audience until the bell rang, usually with mixed results. More often than not, teachers would overhear the other kids calling Molly a variation of names when they thought the adults were out of earshot, the tamest being "Weird-o Walter", a nickname that was passed around the entirety of the fourth grade until Susan had caught it while picking her daughter up from school.

But it wasn't all bad. Even though Molly had a propensity for making up tales and daydreaming, she also had a tendency to keep her grades up and stay out of trouble. Only once had the school called to complain about Molly's absentmindedness, doing so because she had written a story about riding Yellow through the jungle for a report instead of doing the assignment on the rain forest that had been given to her class. Shrugging it off, Susan had disregarded the phone call, knowing that Molly was otherwise doing her homework after sundown and playtime, giving Susan a couple of hours to relax and catch the news before putting her daughter to bed. However, as soon as the pencil went down, Molly's spirits would often rise again, causing the pent-up energy that she had contained in the time it took her to do her assignments to bubble over as she fought against being tucked in.

Most of the time, Susan didn't mind the nightly struggle, noticing that as soon as her daughter was under the covers, she was usually out like a light—but that didn't make the process any easier. While Molly went through the motions of being thirsty and cold, which was becoming justifiable based on the blooming autumn, Susan gave her water and a new blanket, promising that Molly would warm up if she were to lie still long enough. But as they walked up the stairs, that's where the fun usually began for both of them as Molly told Susan about the new monster story she had "heard from a girl at school", which usually meant somewhere in the recesses of her mind, and relaying the information excitedly to Susan's listening ears.

Tonight, however, Susan wasn't in the listening mood. For most of the day, she had been at work at the accounting firm she temped for, filing documents and having to listen to her momentary boss make snide remarks about single mothers and the fact that they're an "easy lay". As she attempted to grin and bear it throughout the hours she had to sit outside the bastard's office, trying to think of ways she could report him for sexual harassment even though he wasn't talking directly to her, Susan had made plans to pick Molly up from school and head straight home. Instead, the car seemed to have different ideas, with a tire popping just in front of the onramp to I-84 and the tow service neglecting to show up for an hour. Trying to find a way to reach Molly's school to let them know she would be late, Susan had contended with a nearly-dead cell phone and a busy line, finally getting through at the moment AAA arrived. Distracted, Susan had left a quick message with the front office, not sure what would happen after that, before having to shell out a hundred bucks for a new tire since her spare was nowhere to be seen.

By the time she got to West Hartford Elementary, the town she lived in being too small to erect a school for the handful of young children in the area, Susan had found Molly sitting alone in her classroom, the teacher gone to talk with her co-worker in the hall. Nearly fuming with Ms. Grace for leaving her daughter unattended, Susan had stormed off with Molly in tow, zipping home and immediately starting on dinner. Almost at the moment the two had walked through the front door, the sun had gone down, dropping from the sky in the blink of an eye, and causing Susan to wonder whether or not it was a reflection of the ordeal she had gone through during the day. Unfortunately, sun up or down, Molly still wanted to go out and play, making the argument that she usually had to come in at six instead of five, and trying to stomp her way toward the door to the backyard. Giving her a firm warning that if she were to go out, she would be grounded until Monday, Susan had watched as Molly cried and ran into the living room, staying there with Yellow until it was time for supper.

Thankfully, the moment the chicken and rice was on the table, Molly's mood had changed, becoming talkative and imaginative again as she played with her food and threw some of it to the dog. Though she knew that her daughter had been taught not to feed Yellow from the table, Susan had let it go for the night, choosing instead to pick her battles. She had already had to deal with a sleaze-ball disguised as an accountant, an overweight trucker with bad teeth who probably overcharged her for the tire, and the forgetful Ms. Grace, and there was no reason to get Molly fired up and tearful again over something as simple as giving the dog bits of chicken. Keeping her mouth shut, Susan had finally relaxed while Molly worked on her math facts, tuning into Cash Cab and answering the questions under her breath.

When nine o'clock came, Susan was well-prepared to go to bed, telling Molly to pack up her things for tomorrow and get some water before heading upstairs. Though she knew her daughter had skipped her nightly bath, with Susan making a mental note to have Molly get up early to take a shower, Susan was having a hard time caring, her body too exhausted to focus on much else aside from hitting the sheets. True to form, as the two walked up the stairs, with Molly sipping her water, Susan listened to her daughter's wild imagination, this time only half-way tuning into the story Molly had heard from "a kid at school" about a water monster that came into little kids' bedrooms and snatched them from under the covers. Smirking at her daughter's frantic persistence that she sleep with the door open tonight, probably scaring herself with her own wild tale, Susan had waited for Molly to climb into bed, noticing that she was acting as though she honestly believed what she was saying rather than recognizing it as a fairy tale. As she went around shutting and latching the windows and closing the door to the en suite bathroom, Susan frowned, wondering if maybe her daughter was taking it too far.

Deciding that was a discussion for the morning, Susan waited for Molly to near the bed, noticing that she was more hesitant to do so. Keeping her eyes on the nightlight, Molly seemed rigid as she slipped under the covers with Mr. Bear, pulling the sheets up to her nose as though the bright blue comforter offered more protection than just against the chilly air. Chewing the inside of her lip for a moment, Susan patiently waited until Molly relaxed into the mattress, noticing that the effect the bed had on her was instantaneous. Grinning to herself, Susan bent forward to kiss her daughter's forehead as Molly's eyes fluttered shut, getting up and heading quietly for the door. Reaching for the handle, Susan made to shut it, but stopped a moment later, remembering that Molly had asked her to leave it open. Nodding to herself, Susan slipped out through the crack, seeing her shadow in the light that filtered in through the hall.

The house that surrounded them had once belonged to Susan's grandmother, an old Victorian property that had been bought in 1920 and kept in perfect condition during the time that Susan's mother had owned it. Growing up in the place, Susan had become accustomed to the creaks and squeaks that sounded in the quiet of the night, even ignoring them whenever the walls popped in the cold and the house settled in the summer. As time went on, when Susan had moved out back when she was twenty-three, she had begun to miss the midnight noises, becoming uneasy when her new apartment didn't offer the same sounds. When Susan had met Matthew, Molly's father, at twenty-five, and had Molly a year later, she had made a promise to herself to move into a house just like the old Victorian, one that offered the same cracks and snaps. Unfortunately, Susan had never been given the chance to find a duplicate, inheriting the real thing two years after Molly was born when Susan's mother had died.

The death had sent Susan into a whirlpool of emotions, from sadness to depression, eventually leading to her taking her frustration and despair out on Matthew. A week after Molly turned six, the man hadn't been able to take it anymore, leaving both of them with nothing more than the rest of the month's utilities and Molly's Hobbit book. Up until then, Susan had been a stay-at-home mother, not having to work ever since she had met Matthew, and foolishly neglecting to marry him because they were "contemporary" people, meaning that she had to find money fast or else her and her daughter would be without power and food by the end of the week. Becoming resolute, she had headed to every place nearby, eventually getting a lead at the temp agency she still worked for to this day. After three years there, Susan had gotten accustomed to switching jobs often, never getting bored, but was growing tired of the constant change. Though she only worked a few hours a day, only having to make enough to pay the bills and have a little left over, Susan wanted something invariable, something that wouldn't require her to have to reacquaint herself with her temporary boss every few weeks.

But that was a thought for later, and possibly one she was only having due to the fact that Sleazy McSleaze had been making suggestive comments throughout the day. As Susan stood out in the hallway before her daughter's room, listening for new creaks and squeaks, she still felt on-edge from having to sit so uneasily behind her desk, pulling her skirt down past her knees whenever the account man exited his office to talk to her, acting as though he didn't know why she was so uptight. Knocking Susan out of her thoughts, the sound of blankets shuffling behind her caused Susan to turn around. Glancing back into Molly's room, she could see that her daughter had turned over, the stuffed bear in her arms now wrapped tightly against her chest.

Smiling and deciding to head down the corridor into her own room, Susan made a straight line for the archway at the end of the hall, crossing through the open threshold as she pulled off her sweater. While she changed into her pajamas, still listening to the sounds of the house as it popped idly, Susan signed and tried to make a resolution to have tomorrow be a better day. Throwing her clothes into the hamper near the closet, she headed downstairs to shut off all the lights and lock the doors, walking into the kitchen to grab a snack before bed. Making a beeline for the fridge, Susan rounded the island in the middle of the room, stopping just beside the sink as her foot stepped in a puddle of cold water. Frowning, she looked down and prayed that Yellow hadn't peed in the house, sighing in relief when she saw that the liquid was clearly innocuous. Glancing around, Susan attempted to find the source of the small pool of water, noticing that the nearby faucet was off and the basin was dry, meaning that it couldn't be a splash from when Molly had gone to get a drink. Looking up, Susan let out a groan as her eyes fell on a yellowed patch in the ceiling.

Great. Pipes are leaking.

Trying to calculate which room was directly above where she was standing, and feeling freezing drops drip onto her face, Susan remembered that Molly's bathroom was overhead, meaning that either something had burst in the wall or the tub was overflowing. Searching for the phone book, Susan grabbed the landline off the counter and held it firmly in her hand while she opened each drawer in the island, trying to find whichever contained the outdated yellow pages she had kept there for the past two years, accidentally throwing out the new one whenever it appeared on her doorstep.

Finally finding it, Susan dropped the book onto the counter and flipped through it, focusing on the ads as she attempted to find the plumbing service she had used awhile back. Suddenly, as though to tear her mind away from what she was doing, the sound of something heavy being dropped upstairs caught Susan's attention, causing her to stop and let the page in front of her fall back in place. Putting the phone in its cradle, Susan headed for the stairs, immediately sensing that something was wrong. A second later, her sense was confirmed as the sound of Molly screaming rented the air.

Racing up the steps, Susan jumped over Yellow's bed from where he had repositioned it in the middle of the hallway and headed straight for Molly's door, noticing that it was now shut.

"Molly? Molly! Are you okay?"

Nothing answered except another scream, followed by, "Mommy!"

Trying the door handle, Susan heard nothing but the click of the lock on the other side as the knob shuffled in place. Pushing her body against the old, thick mahogany that separated her from her daughter, Susan attempted to force the door open, her thin, short frame only colliding roughly with the wood in a painful way. Nursing her shoulder, Susan pounded on the door with her free hand, the occasional stunted cry responding back. Not sure what to do, Susan backed up and rammed at the mahogany again—just as the yelling on the other side stopped.

Giving it her all one last time, Susan collapsed to her knees as the door flew open. Getting up, her eyes searched the room, seeing and hearing nothing. Flicking on the light beside her, Susan rounded Molly's bed, hoping to find her daughter huddled against the bottom of her mattress as she tried to fight off an imaginary nightmare—only for Susan to discover nothing but the hardwood floor and a discarded toy in her daughter's place. Stepping nearer to the headboard, Susan's heart began to beat quickly as she looked around, calling Molly's name frantically without a response.

Maybe she's just playing a game.

"Molly? Molly! This isn't funny! Come out right this instant!"

However, nothing answered Susan back as she kept slowly prowling the room, looking for any sign of what had caused the screaming and where Molly might have run off to. Unfortunately, the only rely she received was the unsettling feeling that something had happened and Molly was gone. After a few more steps, that feeling was solidified as Susan's foot fell into another puddle, this one larger and seeming to flow in a stream to the bathroom. Beside it, sitting cast away with its head bitten off ferociously, was the teddy bear Molly had taken to bed with her.

Looking around one more time, panic set it, along with a darkening fear as Susan bent down to pick up the destroyed stuffed animal. "Molly!"