Molly thrust the half-dressed doll in Stevie's face and screamed, "here! You be the dark one, ok? And I'll be the princess and you come and save me how 'bout." Stevie quietly succumbed to Molly's brash instructions and smiled; smiled and played with her. The two girls' ritualistic procedure of playtime was always as follows: Molly choosing what they were to play, Molly choosing the toy that was the newest or prettiest, and Molly pretty much dictating the whole exercise. Stevie was just there; always just there. However, the two were inseparable. Each night, before the other went to bed, they both whispered the other's name before closing their eyes. Like a prayer for days to come, "Molly…" Stevie closed her eyes slowly and fell into darkness. "Stevie?" Molly lay awake for awhile and heard the doorknob. "Stevie…"
Stevie could never sleep very well. Tossing and turning; turning and screaming. Dreaming was her biggest problem. Not that her dreams held some all important message the world had to know, or that they were the epiphanies that one would wait for all of their lives, they just startled her. She used to say to herself at night that her eyes were just too curious to want to be shut behind her dark eyelids so long. She thought of that now, lying in bed. Eyes open as wide as they were when she was born, staring up at the sparkling plaster of her bedroom ceiling. "Jesus," she sighed. Two days so far of not sleeping. Two days of pure hell that can't undo. Closing her eyes and lying still on her bed would only make it worse. Thoughts upon thoughts would bounce around in her bead, causing an aneurysm or something. "Dammit, if only…I could…never mind." With that she continued to lie there; alone and awake in the darkness.
Nobody knows what went on inside, inside of the flower, inside of the flower that day. The girl's hand retreated, she took it away. She took it back only, only to rot, only to rot off a day later. Her face remained darkened, her body started to shake. The loudest wail in the history of the town.
Molly stared at herself in the body length mirror and fought the tears that raged beneath her lids. She looked at her mouth; red and full and perfectly pouty. She glared at her eyes; dark and inviting without the invitation. She scoffed at her hair; long and flawlessly curled. She cringed when her glance went to her bare shoulders; hair and veil resting on lovely almond skin. Almost perfect. She blew a kiss at herself and slammed out of the dressing room of the church.
She met her soon-to-be father in law at the beginning of the long emerald carpet leading to her ridiculously false fate. "Are you ready?" Luke's dad smiled warmly at Molly. She allowed herself to break and smiled sweetly back at him when she nodded. They linked arms and awaited the proper music.
You'll be fine, you'll be fine, you'll be fine, you're only getting married. MARRIED? What the hell were you thinking when you said 'yes'? Now there's no turning back. How am I supposed to live with this? I don't want this. I never did. I don't want this. I never did. She walked out with that perfect false smile adorning her mouth to the mournful wedding tune being played on the organ.
Luke's eyes followed her and she could barely look at him. Her knees shook with each step. Without realization, she clung to his father in a last act of desperation. He gave her a side glance and shook his elbow a bit. Molly straightened. They finally stopped in front of the groomsmen and bridesmaids, the priest and groom. The music faded and the priest loudly asked, "Who accepts this woman into their family?" Molly could barely help rolling her eyes even a little. Luke let his disappointment wash over him when he saw. Molly recuperated quickly with a few fake tears and a glowing smile. Luke's father announced proudly that the span style="text-decoration: underline;" /span family did. With that Molly took Luke's outstretched hand and stood next to him at the alter.
Molly's brain shut down. After it was all over, she pranced down the aisle with a fake smile on her face; gazing adoringly at the man of her dreams. During the entire ceremony all Molly could do to function was imagine the eyes of another. They danced defiantly across the plane of her conscious thought; green warriors daring her to look back into them; urging her to walk away from this mound of shit and into the misty depths of another's soul. But she never succumbed. She went on through the ceremony with that glorious smile and award-winning charm.
When Lucas watched molly throughout the night, his expression held nothing but adoration. Molly's busy eyes, however, might have happened to glance at her lifelong love five times at the most. Each and every look was the same: Molly looking over at Lucas as though it was timed and rehearsed, Molly putting her hand to her chest with false and seeming candid relief, Molly looking away and walking to the bathroom to scream and scream because she had to do it again.