A/N: Sorry about the delay, readers. Christmas froze my brain, and it's only just defrosted. Enjoy, and please review. I luurve hearing what you think. It makes all this university coursework bearable.
Chapter 4: Molly
Molly Drake was a piece of work. Nobody who'd held a conversation with her for more than half a minute had any doubts on that score.
She'd inherited her mother's cool self assurance and her capacity for learning, reasoning, understanding, and similar forms of mental activity, along with her father's relentless stubbornness and piercing gaze (something she'd flatly refused to believe, not being able to abide comparisons between her and her father). This put anyone on the wrong side of one of her arguments in a rather formidable position.
Usually.
Today, she was unbelievably quiet, a shocked, almost disbelieving expression etched on her face, as if she still hadn't processed the news.
She would've looked completely frozen in that bleak, white hospital room if it hadn't been for her trembling bottom lip, or the tears that were slowly escaping her eyes. Her small, pen marked hands were clasped tightly around a long, slender one, belonging to the occupant of the bed. Her mother.
Even in deep a state of deep unconsciousness, with an odd shaped scar on the far left of her forehead, her mum managed to look beautiful. If it hadn't been for their unattractive surroundings, she could've been mistaken for Snow White. However, the frozen, pale beauty that lay on the bed was not the kind Molly wanted to see. She wanted warm almond shaped eyes, that were too hazel to be green, and too green to be hazel. She wanted the dazzling pearly white, heart shape-lipped, double dimpled smile, which made those eyes sparkle and turned men to putty. They'd always giggled about how jelly brained men turned when she flashed one of those, happily recollecting how, once, it'd gotten them on the London Eye, free of charge.
Molly had always assumed that her mother would see her through her childhood. Until a few days ago, her visions of the future had involved them stumbling through her Latin GSCE coursework, Alex doing most of the work whilst she tried text her friends under the table. Dragging her Mum back to John Lewis, because she certainly did need the ridiculously expensive, blue floaty dress with the strappy shoulders, and she was jolly well going to have it.
It was unbelievable how things could change in twenty four hours. Even for a thirteen year old girl. Her whole outlook on life had changed, removing all her grumpy stubbornness with a slightly maddening desperation. All the things she'd thought were important, seemed completely stupid.
She would've happily thrown her phone down the toilet, and donated her whole wardrobe to Oxfam if there was the slightest possibility of it changing anything.
The only thing she wanted was her Mummy back.
She sniffed back a sob, tightening her grip on Alex's hand, cornflower blue eyes staring intently at the pale, perfect pace.
"Mummy? Please wake up." She sounded pathetic, her voice coming out as barely more than a croak.
For a second, she genuinely expected something to happen. As if her plea would suddenly clear the fog in her mother's head, and she'd sit up, beaming, slender but strong arms engulfing her in a protective embrace.
When nothing happened, she continued.
"Please, Mummy? I need you. You still haven't shown me how to do a French plait. Or told me off for forgetting to do my Spanish homework."
She waited again for a miracle. Nothing happened.
"Come on Mummy!" she wailed "You can't leave me with Evan! He's an old man! It's not fair! I want you!"
What followed was a procession of wails, rants, screams, tears and sobbing, as Molly attempted to revive her mother from her coma.
She begged, threatened, cried and pleaded with her. She made Evan promise to cook her Shepherds Pie every night for the rest of her life. Her friends and visitors were made promise her piggybacks to work and extended holidays. Her favourite song, Piano Man, by Billy Joel was played repetitively, and so loudly, that people from neighbouring wards made complaints.
It broke everyone's hearts to see this little girl fighting so hard for what she refused to believe was a losing battle.
Molly didn't believe her mother could leave her. It wouldn't be fair.
Four hours later, Alex Drake was gone. It had all been for nothing.
Staff had worked all through the night, trying anything and everything to maintain the stability of her position. All to no avail. Everyone who saw or heard of the turn of events thought the same.
What a bloody waste.
In a small, clinical waiting room, a few meters away from where her mother had spent her last moments, the news was broken to Molly. The course of her life was changed dramatically and devastatingly, all her plans and hopes shattering before her eyes.
She learned something that day, her mother had learned when she was eight years old. Something that no child should be forced to acknowledge. Something that, in an ideal world, would've been slowly taught to her, instead of sprung upon her.
Life isn't fair.
Apologies for the shortness of this chapter. And any mistakes, as it is totally un beta-ed. I am rather impatient to get to the galex, which is coming up next. Thanks again for reading. Please review.