Why yes, I do indeed suck. Do people even read and/or write IS fan fic anymore?

I continue to plea my case to you, dearest Readers, but I'm almost sure that I can't anymore. I keep saying that I never meant for all of this to happen but I wasn't innocent during those last hours - the end was in sight. I really don't think she saw what was about to happen, that everything was about to come to a screeching halt, but god, I did. And yes, maybe I really am some dirty old man with a complex or two but I couldn't see myself letting go of her that easily. All I think of was telling her to clean out her designated shelf at the hostel and grab her favorite brand of red lipstick because we were hitting the open road and making it a game of counting the number of hotel rooms we could live in. See? I was smarter than that. I went for option two. At least if I got caught the jail time wouldn't be as long. Would she visit me in prison?

Molly was so pretty and tiny beneath me that I almost came to my senses. She never closed her eyes even when I wanted blackness to consume us both. It was comedic the way she whispered into my ear that she was okay, to not worry. I wondered if I could actually kill her, if what I was doing was going to destroy her in some way. Even now, the time is nothing but cut and paste photography. Her transparent joy of following me home, the click of the door shutting, her lovely hands guiding mine to where she wanted them, her thinly veiled amusement when I fumbled with the buckle on her belt - the moments had transformed into small snapshots to be browsed through like those of vacations and birthday parties.

Maybe I was paying too much attention to detail, but I could never remember my office door squeaking. My secretary peered around the edge as nervously as I felt, looking down to a paper in her hands and trying to avoid whatever eye contact she could. I knew it was only because I'd come in for the first time in a while like a hurricane, ordering everyone to not bother me and that I'd be busy all morning. I felt bad for her, really; the chore of interrupting my self-imposed confinement her responsibility.

"Mr. Quincy, Miss Andrews and, uh, Ms. Harrison is here to see you. Should I tell them to come back?"

I shook my head slightly, giving her the go ahead to send them in. She scurried off only to bring them back way too quickly. I'd wanted to turn away from the door, to give myself some air of secrecy and spring myself on Jude just as Molly had sprung her on me. Maybe it would have bought me a bit of time between shock and anger. I settled on idly sifting through paperwork and trying my best to find the demo contract Molly had signed.

The thud of footsteps brought my attention back to reality and I was finally looking at Jude for the first time in forever, Molly and Jude for the first time ever. The look on Jude's face was as I'd expected but the apologetic glance Molly gave me was something else entirely.

"Mom, this is... my boss." I could see her mind working overtime trying to think of the right words to label me as. Jude looked over her shoulder to her daughter, her eyebrows scrunched together and her jaw setting to stone.

"What is this?" She looked back to me. "Tommy?"

"Hello, Jude." Again, she glanced at Molly.

"Molly, what's going on here?"

"You're supposed to come and visit with the people I have an internship with and..."

"That's me." I stood to take a place on the edge of my desk.

I knew each sentence was a spin in a game of Russian Roulette. I don't think I'd ever seen Molly look scared but standing two feet behind her mother, she looked terrified. I couldn't really blame her. At any moment, I was expecting for Jude to go off. The only thing I knew for certain, though, was that if I could harness her impending rage and place it squarely on me, I would. Jude stared directly at me, her eyes set into a flat line of nothing.

"What does she do her?" I offered her a smile as best as I could.

"She sings."

"I see." Her moves were calculated as she began to pace mercilessly between us. "So you have her in the studio?"

"Yeah. You should..."

"You have her in the studio."

"She's amazing, Jude." I looked past her and beamed at Molly. Molly face lit up to my words. Readers, regardless of the fact that I had Jude right there, able to watch any and all gestures and movements we both made, I couldn't hide the loving pride I felt. Molly was exponentially wonderful. She was so many things and I felt so much for her. Jude huffed loudly. I finally noticed how she'd stopped and stared back and forth.

"You are sick, Tommy."

All attention was solely back on Jude. Wait, what? I was confused. Yes, I knew what I really meant and maybe so did Molly, but I was trying to talk music. Was I that obvious? I hadn't done anything to give me away. What?

"Mom?"

"I can't believe you. How does your mind work, huh, Tom?"

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"Shut up, Molly! You're a monster, do you know that? A pathetic, criminal monster. Did you honestly think I could miss that look? I've seen that look."

That look. My defenses raised at the implication.

"Give me a break, okay? I meant in the booth"

"Please." She quickly turned on her heel, grabbing at Molly and pushing her forward towards the desk. "Grab whatever stuff you have here. We're leaving."

Molly and I were both stunned. I have to admit that I expected for us to be able to talk this out at least a little bit. Jude jumped straight from accusations to taking Molly away with no middle ground to balance on. I was shaken but not so much Molly.

"What, Mom, no! Tommy's been wonderful. He says I could really go places. Listen to what he has to say and..."

"I am not listening to him. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing! I sing. That's all I've done!"

"What has he done, though?" There was no action just the rising decibels and pitches of their voices.

"He's recorded me singing!"

"Get your stuff now, Molly. We aren't discussing this."

This was a nightmare. Didn't I get to at least find a broken desk drawer lock or have Jude wave my journal in my face? How about me trying to fix her a drink and she'd run out into traffic before I could get back to her with it? No, no, no... This isn't how the story was supposed to pan out. It was supposed to be tragic, I know that, it's how it always works out, but this was rash. This was stupid. This was too much, too fast. Come on. Play along!

There was little for Molly to get together as I shouted at Jude in my head to get with it and do her part for this melodrama. I noticed she gave Alpha a bit of fish food and took my favorite pen from my cup holder. She stood in front of me and I knew she wanted to a final something. God, how I wanted to give that to us both! This wasn't fair. I didn't get to do my part. I looked down at my hands and shook my head, looking up through my lashes, silently telling her as best as I could that I was sorry I couldn't work things out. I let her down and it was killing me.

Molly brushed her hand across my knee on her way towards the door and the iciness that I detested so much was being directed at her mother and for once I truly loved her for it. Jude said nothing as her daughter stepped out into the lobby. I wanted to unleash my wrath on her, knowing that Molly was finally about to leave me.

"What was that, Jude? I was only trying to tell you how good your daughter was!"

"I haven't forgotten who you are, Tommy. You're disgusting. I know you. I know what you are about. There is no way in hell that you're getting her in that studio ever again. Don't you remember? We used to be in the studio all of the time."

I ground my teeth together, taking the quick step to loom over her. I hoped that maybe it was possible to intimidate her slightly, get her to back down, to prevail as the victor in this match and Molly would come back. She only gave me a self-satisfying smirk of defiance. How I fucking hated that.

"Is that was this is about? You're still hung up on the past? Get over it!" Maybe I could aim to hurt her ego instead, trivialize what was to the point where she would submit just to think that I would make it mean something. I was stupid and it was low, but she wasn't a former love and lover anymore but an adversary I had to take down.

"This has nothing to do with that! But studios are tight places and you're warped. For all I know..."

"For all you know what?"

"You know exactly what. Luckily for you, there isn't anything concrete but I can tell you now that you will never see her again. You can bank on that."

"You're insane."

"And you're a pedophile. If you try and contact her, I swear to God. Trust me, Tommy..."

She left no room for rebuttal with the slam of the door on her way out. I stood in the middle of my office, torn between breaking everything I could find and breaking down. It was over. The totality was immense. I should have taken option one.