Age 14
It was summertime.
The Hoopers women were staying in Lisburn.
Molly's aunt was very sick.
She didn't have much time.
Her father stayed behind in London, tending to his work.
Molly missed her father.
Molly missed her cat.
Molly missed her best friends.
Molly missed London.
Ireland just didn't feel like home.
Two weeks into the stay.
Molly noticed her stalker.
"Mum?"
"Yes, dear?"
"There've been seven dead squirrels in the gutters since we started walking."
"Someone around here's probably got a chemically treated lawn, dear, don't worry. It's on their head, not yours."
Molly quieted as they continued on.
That's when she caught a glimpse of him for the first time.
He stood across the street.
He had large gray eyes and dark black hair.

Age 17
Molly sat in the swing.
It creaked.
No one went to this playground anymore.
She began to swing back and forth.
Pushing her legs outwards so that she went higher.
Her heart jumped in her chest with every inch gained.
Hands grabbed her waist.
She wasn't swinging anymore.
"Jim! You scared me!"
She giggled.
He liked it when she did that.
He kissed her below her ear.
She liked it when he did that.
"I missed you, Mollywaddles."
"It's only been two weeks, Jim. You're getting attached."
She picked up the black backpack off the ground.
"I'm sorry, I just can't help myself."
His mouth was at her ear.
His voice nothing more than a whisper.
"If I had it my way we'd be doing this forever. You and I. Conquering the world and watching it burn."
Molly shivered.
"We could have it, you know."

Age 14
She saw him everywhere.
When she tried to get close, he ran away.
She told her aunt and mum.
"Oh, that's just Jimmy from a block down. He's a shy one. He probably likes you!"
Her face went red.
She'd never had a boyfriend.
She'd never been kissed.
"You hear that Moll? Someone's got a bit of a crush on you. Why don't you go over to his house and ask to play? Oh, you're too old for 'playing' now, aren't you? Well, ask to hang out or chill or whatever slang it is these days."
They laughed so hard it had driven her aunt into a coughing fit.
Molly left the house and decided to catch the boy herself.

Age 19
Molly lay in the uncomfortable bed in her small dorm.
She was glad to have gotten a single room.
If she hadn't, there would be awkward questions to answer.
Like, "Who's that bloke climbing through the window? And—oh my god—is he covered in blood?!"
He collapsed on the floor.
She rushed up and over to him.
Checked him for injuries.
He had a cracked rib.
The rest were just bruises.
"Jim! Jim, do you hear me? Can you respond?"
She cradled his head in her lap.
Jim rolled his head up to look at her.
He dug into his pocket.
He pulled out a ring stained with red.
She recognized it.
A boy who had hit on her had worn it.
"You. Are. Mine."
Painful sighs punctuated every few words.
"I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you for this."
She kissed his forehead.
"Let's… see… if you… can."
Her eyes welled up with tears.
"Come on, let's clean you up."

Age 14
"I can see you." She said from a spot on the front lawn.
He was trying to hide behind a tree.
"No you can't!" A voice shot back.
"Was it you who killed those squirrels?"
"Why do you wanna know? Gonna tell my mum or somethin'?"
"Have you ever killed anything bigger than a squirrel?"
"What's it to you?"
"I have." She whispered.
He stepped out from behind a tree.
"Did you feel bad?"
"No. Did you?"
A smile stretched across his face.
"Never."

Age 18
They killed a woman that night.
She bent down and pushed the woman's hair out of her face.
Her mascara ran rivers down onto her delicate white neck.
Her mouth had been gagged, her limbs bound.
He had done all that; She wasn't good with the physical side of things.
They were in an abandoned building far from where they both lived for fear of being caught.
All precautions were taken and the victim was chosen at random.
A drunken woman caught staggering down an alley.
Easy enough to restrain her, and He was strong and handsome.
He had her caught before she knew it was a trap.
Her hand wrapped around the blade of a handle, His covering hers.
He looked at her and gave her a soft kiss.
They stabbed the woman in the chest.
They watched crimson rivers paint her skin.
She was tingling.
She wanted more.

Age 15
It had been months since She had heard from Him.
She left him her home phone number when she left Lisburn.
He hadn't called.
She had given up on longing after him a long while ago.
Then, the phone rang.
Her mum smiled as she handed it to her daughter.
"It's for you."
She put the receiver to her ear.
"I'll be in London on the 12th. Permanently."
And the line went dead.
That was all she needed to hear.
She knew he would find her.
He probably already had.

Age 31
A body came into the morgue.
It had been four years since she'd heard from him.
She performed the autopsy.
She found a note inside the body.
It was addressed to her.
That didn't make it onto the report.

Age 16
Her thighs were covered in scars.
It was the best place to hide them.
She hadn't done it herself.
She wasn't suicidal.
He tore them into her.
She had asked him to.
With each centimeter she got higher.
He let her do the same to him.
They lay on a towel.
They tested each other.
They got high off of it together.
They wanted to see how far they could push the other.
They tasted each other's skin as they dug into flesh.
She put them both back together after they finished.

Age 19
They were in her dorm.
They were under her covers.
They were intertwined.
He ran his fingers slowly up her thigh.
She ran hers down his spine.
He took off her shirt.
She took off his.
He kissed her violently.
She kissed him back.
They threw themselves at each other.
They didn't play nice in bed.
He held his hands to her throat and watched her turn blue.
She pushed him off of her.
She climbed on top of him.
She bit at his neck and drew blood.
He let out a throaty moan.
"Tear me apart."
He threw her down on the bed.
He ripped her skirt off of her.
Its remains landed on the floor.
She wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled.
Hard.
His hand trailed down her body.
It pinched along the way.
Her bruise pattern looked like foot prints the next day.
He reached her hips.
She forced his head down.
He tasted her.
He bit.
She held back a scream.
He played with her more.
When she would make a noise he would reach up and hit her.
She would make more noise.
She felt cold steel on her thigh.
She heard the gun cock.
She felt pressure on her entrance.
She looked down at him.
He waited for approval.
She nodded.
He plunged into her.
The cold steel warmed itself inside of her.
He played with her.
She spoke abuse to him.
He did it right back.
She was getting close.
He wanted to push her over the edge.
He licked her as he pushed the gun harder, faster.
He felt her seize up.
He heard a symphony escape her lips.
He pulled the gun out.
He bit her ribs.
She purred.
She took him over.
She undid his belt.
She tied his hands behind his back with it.
He kept trying to kiss and bite.
She pushed him back when he did.
It was her turn.
She slowly undid his pants with her teeth.
She could feel him growing impatient.
"Come the fuck on."
She slid off her panties.
She put them in his mouth.
His eyes rolled back into his head.
He got harder.
He no longer spoke.
She took off his pants.
She took him from his boxers.
Her mouth slid onto his head.
He moaned.
She went further down.
But she went slowly.
He didn't like that.
He spit the panties out.
"More."
She looked up at him.
She slapped him.
He winked.
She smiled.
She put him back in her mouth.
He thrusted against her face.
He found his way into her throat.
She kept him like that for a few minutes.
She removed her mouth from him.
He looked at her disappointedly.
"I'm not done with you."
"Good."
"Untie me."
"No."
"Good."
She straddled him.
She put him against her entrance.
"Say please."
"Make me."
They smirked.
She grabbed his nipple.
"Say. Please."
He remained quiet.
She twisted.
No response.
He tried to thrust into her.
She stopped him.
"When I tell you to say please, you do it."
"Please?"
She sat down on him.
Hard.
She rode him.
Hard.
He whispered abuses at her.
"Whore."
"Slut."
"Cunt."
She whispered abuses at him.
"Bitch."
"Freak."
"Pervert."
He told her how he'd wrap his hands around her throat if he could.
She wrapped hers around his.
She watched his face turn red.
She slammed herself down on him.
He tapped her twice with his foot.
She let go.
"Murderous cunt."
"Panty sniffing creep."
They reveled in it.
He had freed his hands beneath himself.
He grabbed her waist.
He slammed her harder into him than he ever had before.
She was tiny.
He was strong.
She flexed her muscles around him.
His head tilted back.
He let her continue on.
She moaned loudly.
He had the belt in his other hand.
He hit her rear.
It left a bruise.
He dropped the belt.
He was close.
So was she.
He grabbed her back.
He dug his nails in.
Together they succumbed to release.
Fifteen minutes later.
They made spoons.
"Mollywaddles?"
"Yeah?"
"The gun wasn't loaded."
She turned around.
She kissed him.
"I know."

Age 21
They just finished a murder.
Male prostitute.
She hired him.
Told him they always wanted a threesome.
The prostitute was performing oral on her.
He shot him in the back of the head.
She came.

Age 25
"I love you."
She stared at him.
He hadn't said that before.
Neither had she.
"I love you too."
"It's been eleven years."
"I know."
"Run away with me."
"You know I can't."
"We could burn this city."
"We could do so much better."
He cocked his eyebrow.
"How is that?"
"You're already on your way to running it. Why should you throw a toy away right when you get it? It's silly."
"Broken toys are more fun."
"Then break them. But not all at once. Let it last."
"Be my queen."
"I already thought I was."
Age 27
She shook hands with the stout man.
She said goodbye.
She had a Real Job.
She started Monday.
He didnt want her to have a Real Job.
He wanted her all to himself.
She got home.
He knew.
He had spies.
She knew.
He was angry.
She wasn't.
He hit her hard.
She stared at him.
"You do what I tell you to do. I don't recall telling you to get a job."
"Why would I go to med school and do nothing with my degree, Jim? That's idiotic."
"You had something to do with the degree. Help with our empire, Mollywaddles. But it turns out you don't want that job anymore. It isn't a position you leave. You die with it."
"Then kill me! I know it'd get your rocks off, wouldn't it?"
They were kissing hungrily.
They ripped off each other's clothes.
She was gone in the morning.
So were her belongings.
The men trailing her were missing.
He bided his time.
Age 28
She waited in the sitting room of the clinic.
Her name was called.
She followed the nurse inside a room.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"Absolutely."
She exited the clinic a couple hours later.
She had one less thing to worry about.
He knew.
He wasn't happy.
Age 31
She sat on the swing they met at when she was younger.
She was in black.
He came up behind her.
"Good Golly Miss Molly."
He whistled.
"It's been awhile since I've heard that lilt."
"It's been awhile since I saw that figure."
"Don't lie to me, Jim. I know you have people watching me."
"I want to keep you safe."
"Since when?"
"Forever."
"The gun was loaded."
"I know."
"You lied."
"So did you."
"I was pregnant."
"I know."
They sat in silence.
"I love him."
"I'll kill him."
"Please. Jim."
He walked around and faced her.
"You. Are. Mine."
He growled at her.
She spat in his face.
"I'm my own."
"You're a mask. You know I follow you. You know that I know everything about this new life of yours you concocted. I know the masquerade. Mousy little Molly Hooper with bright eyes and a school girl crush on a God too big to see her."
He bent down to her ear.
"What happened to Mollywaddles? My murderess. My queen. Did you flush her out like you did to my child?"
She slapped him.
"I'm never gonna be rid of you am I?"
He smiled.
"I have a plan. Help me. We can escape."
"I don't know, Jim."
He bent down to her ear.
"I still have that gun."
She shivered.
"I'll do it."

A few months later.
He was found dead on top of St Bart's.
He wanted a chemical cocktail to imitate death.
So did Sherlock Holmes.
One was supposed to get a poison.
One was supposed to get a draught of the living dead.
She must have mixed the two up.
Oops.