A lot of Molly's life, she'd been lonely. She didn't have siblings growing up, wasn't popular in school. Most people find at least a friend or two in early grades to stick with them, and if not then, in secondary school. She couldn't say that. She wanted to say that she had a few friends, but the truth was that some of the other kids picked up on her good science skills and used her for their own gain when it came to notes. Other than that, they just ignored her. There was the occasional bully who would pull her plait or tease her until she went pale and hid, but for the most part, she was ignored.
Her only friend was the kitten she found by the side of the road one day on her way home from school, when she was only eight. Dirty, bedraggled, and altogether no more than a scrap of life, she had taken her coat off and bundled the kitten in it to spirit him safely home. Oh, how her mother had sighed about the dirt on that coat, how she had lectured and told Molly "No more bringing home strange animals!". Molly had agreed easily. No more, just him. She had taken her own shampoo and filled the sink with water, washing him until his fur returned to a smoky grey color, except for his little white paws. Then she took an extra hand towel and brought him to her room, carefully drying him until he was a little ball of fluff. She loved his eyes, a lovely copper color that almost mirrored her own.
When she released him from the towel, he rocketed onto her pillow, hiding in the very corner of her bed, which was pushed into one corner of her room. She watched him with interest, nodding to herself before leaving the room in search of something he could eat. She closed the door behind her; not to keep the kitten from leaving because she didn't want to let it have free will, but to keep him safe. She returned fifteen minutes later with a smuggled handful of chopped ham and a glass of water she had told her mother was for herself. She slid pieces of ham towards him one at a time, delighted when he first edged forward to lick one and then gobble it up, giving her a plaintive "mew!" when he had eaten it. Her mother may have considered the little fuzzball a burden, but she herself had no regrets.
From that day forward, he was her constant companion. Whenever she wasn't at school, he was by her side - including on the journey to school. Molly was never sure where he went during the day, but he was always waiting at the door of the school when she was in primary, and then would be at the bus stop when she went to secondary school further away. Whenever she had a bad day at school, he would patiently listen. When it was particularly rough, he would lick away her tears. When she was happy, he would tolerate her excited cuddles and twirling him around. For nine long years, he was the only one who remained by her side when 'friends' abandoned her, when boys ignored her. When she felt invisible to the world, she was the world to him.
It was late in her last year of schooling that he began to get sick. He had been subdued, not showing any of his previous enthusiasm for life, for the past year, but it was only at the end of year thirteen that she truly began to worry. He disliked leaving her room at all, never coming to meet her at the door as he had (once she had begun driving to school). She had to coax him to eat, and he wouldn't drink the cream she had taken to buying as a monthly treat. His last few days, she didn't bother going to school at all. She bathed him with washcloths, fed him spoonfuls of water and tiny bites of ham. She wanted to make the most of her only friend.
When he died, she decided she was done with Hatfield once and for all. She informed her mother that she would be going to King's College in London, and that she would be leaving as soon as the school year was out. She had no regrets.
Med school had been tough, with very few friends, but at least that was more than she had had in Hatfield. She took to work at St Bartholomew's Hospital soon after getting her degree, down in the morgue. Occasionally she would talk to the cadavers, just to stave off the loneliness. There was nothing worse than loneliness, and Molly hated it deeply. But she couldn't just say so. She held her tongue when her friends laughed about nights out with other friends or boyfriends. She didn't want to be the one to bring up how she never got invited, how she was left out. She didn't want to be the one friend that everyone secretly hates.
Then Meena had said "You know what, Molly? Every single girl our age needs either a cat or a gay best one of the two, if you're going to be too shy to go after that Holmes guy." Molly had blushed, but agreed. She missed her cat. It had been thirteen years, and she needed another little presence in her life. That afternoon, she had gone out to buy Toby.
Come to present, she still had no regrets.