Good at Being Bad

By WWFDivaGirl

Molly smiled as she walked down the street. Nothing made her feel as good as when she was shopping. She loved shoes, and had a rather large collection of footwear at home, but she could never resist getting a new pair. Especially when she was out with her husband's credit card and her best friend, Amy Dumas, or Aims. Molly didn't care that they were struggling to make ends meet, especially when she saw a nice new pair of shoes. The girls struggled down the high street with dozens of large bags, as they headed back to Amy's Hummer. As they approached the vehicle, Molly stopped, and glanced in a shop window.

"Come on, Molls, we don't have time for any more shoes! We've got to get back," Amy joked, and she dragged at Molly's arm. Amy was tall and her hair was dyed fire red. Her long hair was always silky and straight. She was happy with her boyfriend, Matt Hardy, who was tall with dark hair. Apart from Molly's husband, Spike, they were her favourite people in the world.

Molly was short with natural blonde hair that hung in ringlets. She had bright, baby blue eyes, and she looked so sweet and innocent. Molly never swore, and she was always polite, honest and patient with everybody that she met. She was like a little kid, despite the fact that she was 28, but that suited Spike well. Spike was short, skinny and blonde, too. Molly and Spike Dudley were so sweet, like a couple of high school kids on a first date rather than a married couple.

Nobody would accuse Molly of hurting a fly, but that's because they didn't know the real Molly. Mrs Dudley wasn't as innocent as everybody thought she was, and nobody knew her secret. Not even her husband.

***

Amy, Matt, Molly and Spike were at Molly and Spike's house, as they usually were on a Sunday. Amy and Matt were telling Mr and Mrs Dudley about the club they had been to the previous night. Spike and Molly didn't really enjoy going to clubs, but they sat and listened to the events of that night.

"You know what we should do?" Molly said to her friends excitedly. "We should host a dinner party!"

"Oh, brilliant!" said Amy, and her eyes lit up at the thought. The guys, however, did not share Molly and Amy's enthusiasm. The girls continued chatting about it until Matt and Amy left.

Spike was cleaning the coffee mugs when Molly came into the kitchen. "Why don't you want me to be happy?" Molly asked him accusingly.

Surprised, Spike denied trying to make Molly unhappy, and she started getting angry with her husband. "You're supposed to be my husband! You should stand by my ideas, not disagree with me! I want to host a dinner party for a few friends, and then you embarrass me in front of Amy and Matt by arguing with me about it! You need to become more considerate!" Molly yelled at Spike.

"Molls, I didn't!" Spike said. "I wasn't trying to hurt you!"

CRASH.

Molly had picked up a saucer, and had thrown it against the wall. Spike moved towards the shattered saucer. "Leave it!" Molly yelled, but he ignored her. Spike knelt down to pick up the pieces, and Molly dragged him up by his shirt collar. She looked into his eyes, and he could see that she was furious. She slapped Spike hard across the jaw. Pain flooded through it, and he backed away from his wife. She sneered at him, and then walked out of the room, leaving her bemused husband nursing his jaw.

***

Dear Diary,

I know Spike and I have known each other for three years, and for two of them we have been married. Whenever our friends look at us, we look like the perfect couple, so sweet, so kind, and so in love. But today I lost it when Spike started arguing with me. I threw a saucer, and I also hit him. It's starting to worry me; I've never lost my cool since that day thirteen years ago when I killed David.

It seems so cruel when you say it like that, but that's what happened. I was 15, and we were at a disco. David was a little older than me, he was 17, and I was so flattered that he was showing me so much attention. He offered to give me a lift home when my Dad didn't show up, and I accepted gratefully. However, he drove me off to some remote place and tried to take advantage of me. I frantically scrabbled under the seat, and pulled out something, and hit him with it. Hard. David gasped in pain, and I felt liquid ooze onto my fingers. I then saw what I had hit him with, and it was a knife. I dropped it, and thought about calling for help, but all I could do was sit there, shocked, and watch him die. The scariest bit was, I felt nothing.

I was convicted of manslaughter, but I was only a junior. I got out of prison nine years later, at 24, and I changed my name from Marie to Molly. To this day, nobody knows what I did but me. And it scares me, that I could take somebody's life without a hint of remorse. If I ever need to kill someone, I'm sure I could do so again.

Molly.

***

Molly opened the door to allow Amy and Matt in. She smiled at them, and Amy didn't notice anything different about her best friend. They walked through into the sitting room, and Any gasped when she saw a huge bruise on Spike's face.

"Spike? What happened?" Amy asked him.

"Nothing, Aims, honestly. I walked into the door. I'm such a klutz." Spike said, smiling. Amy sat down, relieved, but Matt knew that Spike's smile was strangely false, and Spike was quite jumpy around Molly. But Molly was so innocent, she wouldn't hurt anybody, he was probably just embarrassed. Still, he decided to have a man-to-man talk about it later on. So he sat down, and joined in with the dinner party plans. Matt noted that Spike was a lot more enthusiastic today than he was yesterday. He could picture in his mind Molly gently cajoling him, for she had Spike wrapped around her little finger. Matt smiled at the thought, and started concentrating on the guest list, until Spike offered coffees to everyone.

Molly watched Matt follow Spike into the kitchen, and after a few seconds, told Amy she needed to get something from her room. Molly walked into the hallway, and stood outside the other kitchen doorway, listening to Spike and Matt's conversation.

"Spike, what happened to your face?" Matt asked Spike again. Spike nervously told him the same tale he had told Amy, that he walked into a door. Matt had asked Spike several times, and he was sure that Spike was lying. Knowing Spike, he thought maybe his friend had been trying to put up a shelf, only to have it tumble down on him. "Spike, tell me. I won't tell Amy, I promise."

Spike looked at Matt, "All right. I didn't walk into a door. I was in here, washing up," Spike said.

"Where's the coffee, guys?" Molly asked brightly. The two men avoided her eye contact. "Spike, do you know where the address book is? Be a dear, and fetch it for me, will you?"

Spike silently left the room and headed up the stairs. Molly turned to the tall man standing in her kitchen. "He walked into a door," Molly said. "Can't you just leave him alone?"

Matt knew something was wrong. And Molly knew that Matt knew something was wrong. The trouble was, Molly also knew Matt's cousin. His cousin was David, the man she had killed thirteen years ago. Molly couldn't risk Matt realising that she was Marie, and telling Spike the truth.

***

Molly and Spike were their usual, loving selves on the day of the dinner party. There were ten of them in the group altogether, five men and five women. Apart from Molly, Amy, Spike and Matt, there were also Rachel Runnels, Scott Cook, Nadine Fraser, Chris Calloway, and Justine and Jeff Hardy.

Matt watched Molly and Spike, and thought over things in his mind. Amy was still oblivious to anything being wrong, and Spike and Molly were putting on an act, pretending to be the ever-happy couple. Matt tried to enjoy the meal, but he had nagging thoughts that something was wrong between Spike and Molly.

Amy was enjoying herself, but Matt made an excuse for them to leave early. Amy protested a little, but she eventually agreed to go. They said their goodbyes, and as they headed out of the door, Amy heard Justine and Jeff saying they had to go, because they had a babysitter for their little daughter, Hannah.

Molly pursed her lips; sure that Matt was, in some way, trying to ruin her fun. Nobody ruins Molly Dudley's fun.

***

"Spike, can you go to the corner shop and get me some washing-up liquid?" Molly asked her husband. "I don't think we have any left."

Spike got up, and left the room, Molly heard the door slam, and she looked around at her final guests, Rachel and Scott. Scott made his excuses, and got up to leave, and the door slammed shut again. "Before I go, can I use your bathroom?" Rachel asked the hostess, and Molly nodded. "Oh, can you check my lottery numbers?" Rachel asked, and handed Molly the ticket, before walking up the stairs to the bathroom. Molly picked up the remote, and turned the television to the right channel.

"36! 42! 19! 21! 27! 14! And the bonus ball is 5!" the announcer said, and Molly looked down at the ticket. She gasped with surprise, Rachel had won!

Molly kept staring at the ticket; she could afford so many pairs of shoes with £6,000,000. The only problem was Rachel.

Molly heard the toilet flush, and heard Rachel walk slowly down the stairs. 'Now or never!' Molly thought to herself, and she picked up the carving knife from the table. As Rachel walked through the door, Molly walked forward to the brunette, and handed over the ticket.

"Better luck next time!" Molly said with a smile on her face. Rachel reached out for the ticket, but Molly dropped it. Rachel stooped to pick it up, and Molly took the chance she was offered. She plunged the knife in Rachel's back, and the brunette screamed in pain. Molly took another swing at Rachel, and another, and another, until Rachel was lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood. Molly pulled Rachel's ticket out of her pocket, she had dropped her own ticket on the floor, and it was now a bloody mess.

"Molly, I'm back!" called out Spike.

"I'm in here!" Molly said, her voice as calm as usual. She smiled at Spike as he walked in the room.

"Molly, what have you done?" Spike yelled. "You've killed her!"

"Spike, I did it for us!" she said, as she showed him the ticket. "You know how much we need the money."

Spike backed away from Molly. He saw she had a smear of Rachel's blood on her cheek. He shook his head in disbelieve, muttering that it wasn't real. Molly smiled at him, still calm, and put the knife on the table. She handed him the lottery ticket, and she noticed that her hand wasn't shaking. He didn't take it.

"Spike, it's now or never. If you don't help me, I'll be sent to prison, but together, we can achieve happiness," Molly told him. "You know I love you, and you know that I can make this work."

Spike looked at Rachel, lying on the floor, surrounded in her own blood. Rachel was his friend; he owed her more than to be in on her murder. Yet Molly was his wife, and she was so innocent that a jail would kill her. Despite all that had happened between them, he loved her. But he wasn't sure.

"What if they find out?" he asked her.

"They won't find out," Molly assured him. "We can do this, Spike, if only you will help me."

Spike looked at his wife, at Rachel's limp body, and at the ticket that Molly was holding out to him. Then he held out his hand, and took the ticket from Molly. She smiled at him, and told him "I knew you had faith in me."

***

Amy had persuaded Matt to go over to Molly and Spike's place again a few days later. As Amy had told Molly on many occasions, "I have Matt wrapped neatly around my little finger!"

Spike wasn't in, so Matt had to sit through Amy and Molly talking about fashion, television shows and whatever else it was that women talked about. However, he quickly grew tired, and he went upstairs to find the book that he had lent Spike a couple of weeks ago on the pretence of heading to the bathroom. He found his book, and was about to leave when something caught his eye. It was another book, but it was different to the others, and it was nearly totally hidden from view under the bookcase. Matt picked it up, and flicked it open. When he read the inside page, he slammed the book shut. It was Molly's diary. Carefully, he placed it back under the bookcase, and headed towards the door.

But he needed to find out what happened between Molly and Spike, and that would be the best way to do so. Carefully, he opened the book again, and it opened at the last page, and he read the entry.

"Dear Diary,

I feel so hollow, so shocked. Rachel is dead. She died in my living room, and it's all because she won the lottery. I've cried so much, but Spike has told me to quit with the waterworks. He told me to act like nothing happened. Well, he would, because he stabbed her.

He got back from the shops, getting washing-up liquid, and he saw Rachel's lottery ticket. She was in the bathroom, and he saw her numbers appear on screen. I left the room to start the dishes, and I heard a blood-curdling scream. When I ran through into the living room, I saw Spike standing over Rachel's body, with a bloody carving knife in his hand. I've never been the same since, I keep having nightmares, and Spike keeps telling me that I can't tell anyone. He forced me to help him clean up, but I'm sure that my dear Spike will be caught. We buried her under the apple tree; I hope she likes it there.

I miss Rachel so much, I've lost a dear friend, and I also lost my husband on that night. I don't think I can ever look at Spike in the same way again.

Molly."

Spike had killed Rachel. Matt sat there, shocked and upset. It didn't sound like the Spike he knew, but why would Molly lie in her diary? Spike thought of Rachel as a dear friend, he would surely never kill her. But he remembered in the living room, it had been cleaned immaculately, but there was a browny red stain on the carpet. Amy hadn't been able to reach Rachel since the dinner party, either. Matt picked up his cell phone, and called for the police. For all he knew, Spike could do the same to him. Or even worse, he could do the same to Amy.

"I'd like to report a missing person," Matt said. "And a possible murder."

***

Molly sat in her room, alone. The last four moths had gone by in a blur. She could remember the initial inquiry. Spike never told anyone that she had killed Rachel, and they both acted innocent. Molly pretended she had never kept a diary, and that Matt was making it up. Yet Molly knew they were under investigation, and she went to the station and handed herself in, but only as his forced accomplice.

Molly couldn't believe that Matt Hardy had fallen for her fake diary. Molly's real diary was well hidden, and nobody knew that the fake diary wasn't true. Except Spike, but he wasn't going to tell anyone. Molly was sure of that.

Molly couldn't understand the feelings that were going through her. The last time she killed someone; she had felt nothing, no pain, no remorse, and no guilt. This time, she felt as though she was carrying the world on her shoulders. There was nobody that she could talk to about it, either. Spike was in prison.

On more than one occasion, Molly had burst into tears, and this was one of those occasions.

***

Amy and Matt were engaged. They had realised that time was so precious, they didn't want to waste what little time they had. They had bought a small house, too, and Molly had moved in with them. Amy insisted they couldn't leave her alone in her old house, and Matt had readily agreed that she could join them.

But this all changed, when Matt received a telephone call from Spike. At first, he didn't want to hear what his ex-best friend had to say, but he eventually listened. Spike explained what really happened, but Matt was still sceptical. It was only when Spike told him what Molly's real diary looked like that Matt started to believe that he might just be telling the truth.

Matt asked Amy to get Molly out of the house for a few hours. He said she was becoming too introverted, and when they had left, Matt searched Molly's room, and eventually came across the diary, with the real events in it. It matched what Spike had told him.

Matt sat there, shocked. He heard a car pull up in the drive, and immediately started to sort out the mess he had made when he was searching for the diary. He put things back in approximately the right place, but he took the diary downstairs, and he put it under the couch. As Amy and Molly entered the house, he was sitting and watching television.

"Hi Matt, bye Matt," Said Molly. "I'm off to bed." She smiled sleepily, and headed up the stairs.

"Tonight was great, you should have…" Amy started.

"I need to talk to you, Amy," Matt said. "Sit down. Molly killed Rachel."

"No she didn't. It was Spike." Amy said, trying to laugh it off.

"Amy, I have her diary here. She says she killed Rachel, and it all adds up," her fiancé told her. "Molly is a murderer. Twice. She killed my cousin David!"

Amy opened the dairy, and read the two entries Matt told her about. She gasped in shock, and looked at him. "What can we do?" Matt asked.

"We can confront her," Amy whispered. "Get her to tell the truth."

"Maybe you're right, Aimes. Molls has changed, definitely. I'm not having her here, especially after what she did to Spike," Matt told the redhead. "She's no longer the innocent angel we thought that she was. She can't hide behind her blonde ringlets any more with us. She was good at being bad, but she wasn't good enough."

The couple stood outside of Molly's room. They could hear her CD player in the background, playing her favourite song. It was "Just a Girl", by No Doubt. Matt knocked, but there was no reply.

"Molls!" he called out. There was still no reply. He looked at Amy, and she opened the door and walked in.

"Oh my God!" Amy yelled, as she walked into Molly's room.

"What is it?" Matt asked her, and she pushed open the door further so that he could see into the room. The usually white carpet was stained red, and as he walked in, he saw Molly lying there, pale, deathly white. She had a knife in her hand, and her wrists were still oozing blood. Matt could hardly wrench his eyes from her pale cheeks, until Amy grabbed his arm roughly and pointed over to the bedside table. There was a note, and it was written in Molly's handwriting. Amy moved forward slightly and picked it up. The white paper was such a contrast to the redness of the bloodstain.

"What does it say?" Matt asked his fiancé, his voice shaking slightly. Matt was never good with blood, and the room was covered in the stuff. Amy read out the note, her voice quivering.

"I'm sorry, Spike, for sending you to jail.

I'm sorry, Rachel and David, for sending you to death.

I'm sorry, Amy and Matt, for not telling you who I really am. Love, Molly.



What is feigned innocence alone?

What is the cold without your lover?

What is the cold bed you sleep in like?



Can you think of living alone?

Never knowing love again for fear of losing it.

What is feigned innocence alone?



What about the cold night?

Where all you have for warmth are the memories?

What are the tears you shed for?



Are they for lost love?

Are they for the fact that you can't join them?

What is feigned innocence without love?



What is life without life?

What is the dark reality of lies?

Is it to be alone forever?"