A/N: Sorry again it took me so long to update. Maybe I'll start speeding up now that it's summer. If you've stuck with me though, you're a trooper. I know I don't update as often as people normally do, but I do the best I can.

Also, totally casual reminder the SAMFAs (Sherlolly fic awards) are now accepting nominations and this story is eligible. So, if you like it, I'd super appreciate anyone even considering it. All information is on the sherlloly website (Sherlolly dot com).

Finally, and most IMPORTANTLY, and I'm so sorry I never said anything before, TRIGGER WARNINGS. Starting in this chapter, there are mentions of sexual assault and attempted rape. Later chapters will probably also include similar topics as well as eating disorders. I'm really sorry that I didn't make this clear when I published the first chapter. This chapter is skippable if you don't want to read it, but I encourage you to contact me if you skip it so I can tell you the plot points vital to the story without you needing to read a more graphic description. If anyone would like to talk to me about clarification or anything at all, personal messages are always welcomed and you can always reach me on my tumblr.

Thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed the last few chapters. You guys never fail to make my day.

Disclaimer: Sherlock. Not mine. Except in my dreams.

It felt cliché to say that the New Year's Eve changed her life. But it had, and she could not change that, no matter how much she wanted to. It was the end of December, 1999. She was twenty years old and studying biology and dance. The biology was for her father - he knew she would make an excellent doctor one day. "Brains and a cheery smile, Mols. That's the main thing people need." And he would know better than anyone. The dance was for her mother. It had been more of a deal than anything else. "Why bother with uni? You should just audition around, you'll find a place." But she had never wanted to be a dancer in the first place. So she had convinced her mother that she could get even better at uni.

She didn't study anything for herself. There would be no point in that. Molly sighed, taking a sip from the bottle beside her as she sat on the floor, absentmindedly painting her toenails. She could feel her flatmate's glare from the couch. Taking another sip from the bottle, she turned around.

"Wine, Hil?"

She could practically hear her shake her head. "I've got a paper due Wednesday."

"So? I got a bio thing on Monday." She stood up and, waddling on her heels to avoid messing up her toenails, made her way to the couch, plopping down besides Hillary. "Doesn't really matter though, does it? It's a Friday and it's New Years. It'll be a new millennium tomorrow. Plus, if the crazies are right, the world'll end before then or something like that."

Hillary stared at her. "How'd you even get in here?"

Molly shrugged, hopping back off the couch and headed towards her room to change. Once the door was latched behind her, she slipped out of the over-sized t-shirt she had been wearing and let herself tumble backwards into her bed. Her stomach let out a low growl and she felt it clench beneath her flesh. She laid her hand on the bare skin of her stomach and shut her eyes, smiling. After several slow minutes, she got back off her bed and pulled the new red dress out of her closet. She put on her makeup and pulled her hair out of her face. Mary had called her two days before and all but demanded that she looked her best for New Years. "I have a surprise for you." And Molly had known better than to ask what.

She had been tipsy by the time she got to the club. She sat down at the third table on the left. She knew Mary would look there. She was early and contented herself by fiddling with the paper napkin before her, pulling and tearing with slender fingers. She could hear the club filling and the chatter of people drinking to the upcoming year, but she paid them no notice. She was so contented in the joyful noise of the party that she didn't even flinch when an arm snaked its way across her torso, pulling tight.

"Hey, there, gorgeous."

Molly tilted her head back with a grin. "Oh, hush, you."

Mary pulled out a chair and plopped down. A young man with the same blonde curls and green eyes sat beside her, smiling.

"And so you're the famous Molly." She raised an eyebrow at the stranger. She didn't like charming. Her most recent stepfather had taught her that charming always meant hiding something. She set the ragged napkin back on the table, but remained silent, studying the man in front of her.

"Mols, love, this is my cousin, Mitch. He's gonna graduate, top of his class, and become a shit doctor who helps people for the paycheck. Mitch, Molly here is going to become either a wonderful doctor who likes to help people or a shit ballerina who wishes she had actually done something with her life." Mary's hair bounced as she pushed herself off the chair. "I want a drink. Anything for you - no, not you, asshole. No?"

And then she was gone. Molly gave Mitch a quick, tight-lipped smile, but quickly glanced away and began to one more pick at the napkin. She didn't need Mary to find her someone. She was perfectly capable on her own, thank you very much. She could feel the boy staring at her and, dear god, why couldn't Mary just get back?

"You know, you're much more than I expected."

Molly snorted. "Yeah, well, same to you, mate."

"How so?"

Molly looked up at him, raising both eyebrows. "You exist."

Mitch laughed. "I guess my darling cousin didn't tell you she was bringing me."

"Mary likes surprises."

"And aren't you one. I was expecting some poor little girl, weak and scared of the world. Someone who needed help. Someone boring. But you're more than that, aren't you?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "Well, the boring part's true."

He cocked his head to the side. "Now, you don't expect me to believe that."

She shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint. Or not to, I guess, if boring was your expectation. I'm...I'm quite standard."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually believe that."

"Then you're not as smart as your cousin made you out to be."

It was Mitch this time who shook his head. "Well, that's probably true, but the reasons are quite different. I suppose I'm just going to have to convince you, aren't I?"

"Of what?"

"Of how incredibly not boring you are."

She had been smiling when Mary returned. In fact, by the end of the night, by the time the new year had dawned, she had even agreed to have coffee with him the next week.

They had talked for hours. About school, about life, about family and friends and food and all those other things that had been tormenting Molly Hooper for almost twenty years. The words had flowed so easily and, for the first time in a long time, she was happy. When she had finally had to leave, he hadn't tried to make a move. He hadn't gone in for an uncomfortable kiss. For a moment, she had been scared that perhaps she had been reading all the signs wrong. But then he had asked her for dinner the following night and, with a rosy-cheeked grin, she had nodded and left.

The restaurant hadn't had a set menu. Well, not technically. But Mitch had said he knew the chef and insisted that Molly let him order for her. There had been asparagus cooked in a way that made it almost taste good, a salad full of ingredients she had never seen, but he persuaded her to try it anyway. There had been a pork filet with some sort of plum sauce and a strange grain she had stared at for several minutes before Mitch was able to convince her to eat it. She even finished the entire plate. He had smiled when she took that last bite, as if he had won some small victory. And then she had invited him back to her flat - Hillary was visiting her boyfriend for the weekend. But the night had ended worlds differently from what she had expected.

When they had walked in, she had flopped right down on the couch, crossing her legs and smiling. He stood there before her, his eyes wandering around the room as though he wasn't sure where to go, what to do.

"You can sit or whatever, if you'd like."

Mitch laughed, kicked off his shoes, and sat on the couch, crossing his legs to mimic hers and grinning right back. And then he began talking animatedly about everything and nothing. He was smiling at her and talking and laughing and joking and not touching. At first, she had been confused, but then she had been laughing along with him. Glasses of wine were poured and consumed and laughs became louder and merrier and the next thing Molly knew, she was inviting him out with her and her friends that following weekend. Mitch had accepted quickly, but insisted that they meet for coffee during the school week. "This weekend to next weekend is a long time." Molly had laughed, but she agreed. When he finally stood up to leave, he took her hand in his and pulled her off the couch as well.

"Can I kiss you?"

She was taken aback by the question. Most men didn't ask, they just assumed. No one had ever asked to kiss her before. She didn't know how to react.

"I don't know. Can you?"

He had laughed, his breath warm and soft against her face. "You should just give up medicine and dancing right now and become a teacher. May I kiss you?"

Only once she had nodded did he lean in for the sweetest kiss of her life. She sucked in her lower lip, grinning foolishly when he pulled away. He ran a soft finger across her chin, tugging lightly and pulling her lip out of her mouth. "You're far too lovely for that."

She giggled and kissed his cheek. With a smile, he turned to go. "I was right, you know."

"Oh? About what?"

"You're not boring at all. In fact, I think you and I will have quite a bit of fun together."

And how much fun they had had! Molly thought, sipping her drinking and watching Mitch talk with her friends. He was sitting in a corner booth, with Sasha on one side of him and Amy on the other. Eddie was laughing behind Amy, and Shay was staring at Mitch, his face perfectly blank, but Molly could tell he approved.

"He likes them," Micah murmured, resting his chin on Molly's shoulder from behind. They were up at the bar, waiting to bring the next round back to the table.

"He's charismatic," Molly said, leaning back against him. "He's funny. There's nothing not to like."

Micah didn't miss the accusation in her tone. "He's got to prove himself to me, I can't just go off loving every guy you bring 'round."

"Yeah, but Mitch's special."

"Oh?"

"It's been awhile since I kept one around long enough to show you lot."

Micah laughed. "True enough. I guess the real question then, Miss Molly, is do you like him?"

Molly stared at Mitch, cocking her head to one side. He was so engaged with her friends, getting along so well. He looked so happy, it made her happy.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Well, then," said Micah, kissing her cheek as the bartender handed over the tray of drinks. "I suppose I've got to like him, don't I?"

Molly grinned and helped carry the drinks back to the table, climbing over Amy and squeezing in between her and Mitch.

She kept smiling throughout the rest of the evening. She was sitting on the couch in Mitch's apartment, drinking a glass of wine and being happy. He was sitting on the couch next to her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"I liked your friends."

She nodded, taking another sip. "They liked you, too."

"Mm." He turned his head slightly to kiss her neck. "And what about Micah?"

Molly shut her eyes, wishing he would stop talking and go back to kissing her. "What about him?"

"You're very close."

"'Course, he's my...I don't know. He's my Micah."

"Your Micah?"

Molly cocked her head, trying to figure out exactly what she meant. "He's my rock. He takes care of me."

Mitch laughed and turned to cup her face in his hands. "Well, I can take care of you now," he said softly, kissing her lightly.

Molly laughed, deepening the kiss. It had been a long time since she was this happy. For the next few months, Mitch continued to spend time with Molly's friends and they continued to enjoy his presence. In June, he, alongside Shay, Micah, and Eddie, helped Molly, Sasha, and Amy movie into their new apartment. Or, rather, Mitch, Shay, Eddie, Molly, and Amy moved in while Micah and Sasha competitively flirted with the man on the first floor. After several hours, Shay had plopped down on the curb, where Molly was resting.

"Beer?"

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Molly had nodded. After handing over the drink, Shay had pulled his sweat soaked shirt over his head before turning back to Molly. She smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"If I'd known this was the view, I'd have taken a break a long time ago."

Shay laughed and flexed. "Well, well, Miss Molly, look all you'd like." Grinning, he lifted her hand. "Touch away."

Molly pulled back her hand, shaking in laughter. "Mmm...Sweat."

They both continued to laugh, exhausted from the day's work. Molly had not even realised Mitch sitting down on her other side until she felt the momentary pressure of his lips against her cheek. "Dinner tonight?"

"Aren't you all going to eat together tonight? Break in the new house?"

Molly shook her head. "It's Ed and Am's six month." She made a gagging gesture and Shay laughed.

Mitch stood up and held his hand down to her. "You look disgusting," he said, pushing a sweaty strand of hair out of her face.

"Yeah, well," Molly grinned. "We can't all be perfect."

Although, at the time, everything in her life seemed to be just that. A few hours later, she was sitting happily on Mitch's couch, staring out the window as he cooked dinner.

"Are you excited to finally live with the girls?"

Molly looked up. She hadn't heard him enter the room. She smiled and nodded. "It'll be good. It'll be nice to have place where we can all hang out and not have to deal with -" She held up her hands as though mimicking a monster - "roommates."

Mitch laughed and sat down beside her. "Well, your friends are pretty damn good."

"Only pretty damn?"

"Some are better than others."

"Oh?" This surprised Molly. Mitch seemed to get along so well with everyone. And her friends all seemed to like him back. "Um," she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Who - who don't you like?"

Mitch laughed his wonderful laugh and kissed her nose. Molly couldn't help but to smile. "Dislike is a bit too strong, Mols. I just think there are some people you spend time with who...who you deserve better than."

"But who?"

Mitch sighed and kissed Molly's cheek once, twice, a third time, before slowly making his way to her neck. Molly closed her eyes as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. "Well," Mitch said quietly, his breath tickling her neck. "Shay kind of rubs me the wrong way."

Molly straightened up and looked at Mitch with raised eyebrows. "Shay? Shay? I mean, if you had said Eddie or something, I'd maybe buy it because, much as I love him, he's kind of a little shit sometimes, but Shay?"

"He looks at you weirdly."

"Bullshit."

"Really, Mols." He leaned back towards her, cupping her face in his hands. "He looks at you like you're nothing. It's disgusting. Because you, Molly Hooper, you are brilliant. You going to be a fabulous doctor one day, but people like Shay, they're the ones who are going to bring you down. They're the ones who are going to tell you that because you're a girl, you'll never be good enough."

"Shay'd never -"

"Of course he'd never say anything. But you can see it in the way he looks at you. He hates the fact that you're smart, a genius practically. Haven't you noticed the way he looks whenever you talk about school? Or the future?"

Molly shook her head. No, she had never noticed anything. True, Shay would sometimes tease her about her grades, the way everything related to biology just came to her so easily. But it had always been so light-hearted. Unsure of what to say, she reached for her wine glass on the table, took a too large sip, a looked straight ahead.

"Hey, hey! Don't look like that." She felt Mitch's thumb run along her chin and his lips press against her cheek. "Come on," he said, standing up and holding out his hand. "Dinner's ready."

Molly allowed Mitch to take her hand and lead her into the kitchen. She sat down at the table and watched as Mitch served a few pieces of broccoli and a large piece of salmon. Confused, Molly looked up at him.

She didn't eat fish. Ever since she was a little girl, she had never been able to keep it down. It didn't matter the type. Mitch knew that. More than once had she explained it to him when they'd be out at a restaurant and he'd try to order something he was sure she would love.

But Mitch's only response to her confusion was to smile and take his seat opposite her. He looked so proud of the dinner he had made. With a small smiled, Molly raised her glass.

"It looks lovely," she said, lowering her glass.

"Lovely meal for a lovely girl."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. She politely ate the broccoli and proceeded to cut up the salmon on her plate, hoping Mitch wouldn't realise she had never eaten any. It was a good trick - nobody beside Mary ever seemed to notice. And she didn't want to make Mitch feel bad about the meal, not tonight when he had been so kind to her.

"Are you religious, Molly?"

She looked up, caught off guard by his question. "Not particularly."

"Not at all?"

She shrugged, setting down her fork and knife. "I mean, my mum's Protestant and I think dad might be part Jewish somewhere, but I think that's mainly for the food. But, no. I mean, I never really thought about it or cared that much."

"So all your personal rules and such, you just...decide them on your own?"

Molly nodded, confused. "Yeah, I mean. I guess. I don't - I don't really have any 'rules,' do I?"

Mitch smiled. "Of course not, Mols. I just couldn't help but notice that you haven't taken a bite of fish."

Molly internally cursed herself. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she gave her boyfriend and apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I, um, I don't eat fish."

"Why?"

Hadn't she told him this before? "It makes me sick. Always has."

"Well, that's rather childish."

Molly cocked her head. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. "I'm...sorry?" She wasn't sure why exactly she felt the need to apologise, but it was the only thing she could think of to do.

"So what we you going to do?" Mitch asked. He hadn't stopped smiling since the beginning of the conversation. "Just eat a few bites of broccoli and, what? Go hungry until morning?"

Molly shook her head, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I - I don't know. I guess I figured I'd just have a snack or something later. Make myself a sandwich, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, you seemed really pleased with yourself. I didn't want to seem unappreciative."

"No, of course not." Molly couldn't help but catch the sarcasm barely hidden in his tone. He let out a low laugh that caused Molly to wrap her arms around herself. "Is this how your mum taught you to act when people cook for you? Just ignore and make yourself a fucking sandwich after?"

Before she could stop herself, Molly let out a bitter laugh. "No, my mum just taught me not to eat at all."

Mitch stood up from the table so quickly that Molly almost knocked over the wine glass resting beside her hand. "Then don't!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!" He walked around the table, grabbed her plate, and dumped its contents in the sink. "Fucking Christ, you're such a child."

"You're being an asshole," Molly said, getting up from the table.

"And you're acting like a five year old." Mitch brought his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna study for a bit and go to bed. Stay if you want. Or don't."

"What?" Molly threw open her arms as he walked to his room. "That's it? You're not going to apologise or whatever?"

"I'm not the one owing an apology, fucking hell."

And with that, he slammed the door. After stomping her foot, Molly sat down on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She would wait. She could wait all night, if she had to, but she would get an apology. She stared up at the ceiling, silently cursing Mitch for what felt like hours. At first, she ignored the pangs of hunger inside her. After almost half an hour, she considered going into his kitchen and making herself and sandwich or getting an apple, but she decided against it. Not long later, she began to like the pangs of hunger, a gentle reminder that his comments didn't hurt her. Don't eat? Fine, she didn't need to. She was strong enough and each pang began to feel more like a challenge to keep going.

With a sigh, she leaned back, shutting her eyes and hoping that, maybe, she could just fall asleep.

But she couldn't. Part of her, as much as she hated to admit it, felt guilty. Mitch had worked so hard to make a nice dinner for her and she had, what, only snapped at him for his food choice? How was he supposed to know she didn't eat fish? Even if she had mentioned it to him before, it wasn't his job to remember every little detail about her.

"Dammit, Molly," she whispered to herself, pushing off the couch.

Quietly, she made her way to Mitch's room. A light was still leaking out of the door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open. Mitch looked up at her entrance and placed the book he was holding down on his lap. Molly glanced at the clock on his bedside table. She hadn't realised how late it had gotten.

"Why are you still up? It's past four." Mitch said nothing. Biting her lip, Molly walked over to the bed and sat down beside him. "I - I'm sorry. I was being rude before and I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

Mitch was silent a moment longer, but then opened his arms to her.

"You were a bit...unappreciative," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "But I suppose I love you anyway."

Molly grinned into his chest. "I love you, too."

After that, things went back to normal. They were happy. Happy together, at least. Three days after their fight, Mitch and Molly had been out to dinner with their friends. Like always, by the time their appetizers came, the topic of conversation had turned to complaints about school, about family, about life. Not one to stay out of conversation, Molly had complained about a biology course she was taking and how it was the most frustrating class she had ever taken. With a friendly laugh, Shay jokingly asked why, if she hated it so much, was she still taking it.

"It's pointless to waste your life on something you hate," Sasha had agreed.

"Exactly," Shay continued, smiling teasingly. "I mean, you can always just focus on dance."

It shouldn't have been a big deal. Molly often joked of abandoning dance to focus solely on biology or biology to focus her attentions on ballet. But she was furious. How dare he presume that she wasn't good enough to make it through to her degree, however hard it would be! She had told him, in no uncertain terms, to shut the fuck up about things he didn't know about and that she already had enough people doubting her and he had no right to judge her.

Before anyone could respond, she had stood up and all but marched into the bathroom. She stood there, staring in the mirror, for several long minutes.

"The fuck you think you're doing in here?" she heard a woman snap.

"Out," Micah's voice replied. "Get out. Now, please. Important business. Thank you."

Molly put up no resistance when Micah grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around.

"What the fucking fuck was that?"

"What?" Molly snapped. But she knew exactly what Micah was referring to. She sighed and shrugged Micah's hands off her shoulders. "I'm sick of Shay treating me like dirt."

"When the fuck does he treat you like dirt?"

"Always." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Mitch and I were talking about it the other night."

"Well, fuck Mitch then. Shay loves you, Molly. You know that. You're practically his sister."

Molly ignored the second part of his comment. "Don't talk about Mitch like that."

Micah rolled his eyes. "Hate to break it to you, lady, but I don't actually like him that much."

"Micah!"

Micah shrugged. "I'm blunt. Sue me."

It was Molly's turn to roll her eyes. "Can we just go back to the table? I don't want to deal with this right now."

"Yeah, whatever."

"What the fuck are you doing in here anyway?"

Micah grinned. "Kicked a little old lady out," he said, pushing the door open for her.

They made their way back to the table and, smiling, rejoined their friends. But something had changed, Molly could feel it. She could feel the eyes of her friends on her whenever she wasn't looking. Perhaps they didn't see it either, the way Shay acted. Maybe they thought her too sensitive. But she didn't care. She would not let people put her down. Not anymore.

And yet the coldness that had settled among the group didn't seem to let up. The girls never had the group get-togethers in their apartment that Molly had wanted. She found that, despite living so close, she was only growing more and more distant with Amy and Sasha. Lonelier in her new home than she had been with Hillary, Molly began spending almost all her time in Mitch's apartment. When the new school year began, she had, for all intents and purposes, moved in with Mitch.

It was a Thursday in the beginning of October and she was lying in bed, debating whether or not she would go home for her sister's fifth birthday. Her mother had remarried a few years back and, with her new, young husband, had decided to start fresh. Molly hated her stepfather almost as much as she hated her mother and, yet, her new half-sisters seemed perfectly sweet little girls and Molly savoured every moment she could help those kids resist their mother's influence. She had been so preoccupied in her thoughts, that she hadn't heard Mitch enter the apartment. She didn't even notice him until he threw himself onto the bed beside her and rested his head on her stomach.

"Hey." She smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "Where were you?"

"Your place, actually. Sasha was rearranging her room and Eddie and I were helping out."

"Oh." Molly hadn't known. Come to think of it, it had been days since she had talked with either of her roommates. "I think you see them more than I do these days." She bit her lip, realising silently that her comment, which she had meant almost comically, wasn't a joke at all. In the past few months, she felt as though Eddie and Sasha and all her friends save Micah were Mitch's friends and that she was just the girlfriend. It felt so long ago that it had been the other way around.

But if Mitch noticed the sadness in her tone, he said nothing. He rubbed his hand up and down her side, silently counting each rise and fall of her chest. After a few minutes, he slipped his hand under her shirt and ran his fingers along the edge of her bra. Molly shook her head and tried to shrug him away.

"Sorry, love," she murmured, moving her hand from his head to his wrist and pulling his hand out from under her shirt. "I'm just...I'm really not in the mood right now."

Mitch laughed and rolled himself over so that he was straddling her. He pulled his wrist out of her grasp, intertwined their fingers, and pulled her arm so that their hands rested above her head.

"C'mon, darling," he whispered, kissing her neck.

"Seriously, Mitch." Molly squirmed beneath him. She should really just go to the library. She could be alone there. Or the lab, she thought. It would be empty at this time. "Mitch, stop it."

But his free hand was making its way down her side and his fingers were suddenly grasping at the button of her jeans. She could feel him hard against her thigh and felt, fleetingly, something almost like fear as she realised that he wasn't stopping. She moved her free arm to push him away, but his hand immediately left her button and brought her arm to join its mate in the grasp of his other hand.

"Mitch, this isn't funny." He said nothing. "Stop!"

"Shhh." His breath burnt her neck. "You think too much."

Without a second thought, she quickly brought her leg up, kneeing him hard between the legs. Mitch let out a yell of pain and surprise as Molly rolled out from under him.

"What the FUCK?"

But she had pushed herself off the bed and was already out the bedroom door.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" His hand closed tight around her wrist, spinning her around to face him.

"Home!" She hadn't meant to shout it, but she didn't care. She yanked back, trying to free herself of him. "Let GO."

"What the fuck is your problem? You're acting like a spoiled child! You sat in here on your fat ass all day while I was actually doing things and helping your fucking friends! I let you fucking live here, no charge. I fucking cook for you. I deal with your silly problems and all your shit about how your horrible, evil mother doesn't give a fuck about you and I ask for nothing. All I want is a nice girl to come home to at night, but you just sit here like a unappreciative bitch."

His head snapped to the side as Molly slapped him across the face. He turned back to her slowly, his eyes darker than she had ever seen them. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. With a single yank, he had her back through the bedroom door and pressed against the wall.

"Dammit, Molly," he whispered into her ear, pulling her jeans with such force that the button popped off. "Can't you ever think about someone besides yourself?"

He shoved his hand down her pants and pressed himself up against her. He let out a low moan and Molly felt as though everything she had ever eaten in her life was working its way back up her throat. Why wasn't she screaming? Mitch had neighbours, they could hear. But she couldn't. She felt him pull his hand out of her pants and felt him go for his own button. Without a second thought, she dipped her head to his neck and bit him as hard as she could. Perhaps it was the pain, but more likely it was the shock and, for a moment, Mitch's grip on her loosened and she could push him away. She took off down the hall and was almost at the door when she felt his hand on her once more. Quickly, she spun to face him, kicking her foot as high and as quickly as she could. She caught his cheek with such force that he stumbled to the side, releasing her arm. As Molly raced out the door, she found herself incredibly thankful for the years of ballet.

Even running her absolute fastest, it was nearly a half hour before she reached her own apartment. She reached into her pocket, only to realise her keys were still sitting in Mitch's kitchen. She banged on the door furiously, screaming for her roommates. She knew in reality that it was less than a minute, but it felt like hours before Amy opened the door. She had the phone to her ear and was staring at Molly questioningly as she moved to let her through.

"Yeah," Amy was saying. "Yeah, she just walking in. I'll talk to her, don't worry. It's o - yeah, alright. Bye."

She hung up the phone and moved to sit on the couch. "You look like shit. Sit."

Trembling, Molly sat down on the armchair. "W- Where's Sasha?"

"Hot date. You going to tell me what's wrong?"

Molly opened her mouth, unsure of what to say. God, it couldn't have been more than a five, ten minute ordeal and yet... She nodded, looking up at her roommate. Her friend. "I - I was at...Mitch's."

"Obviously."

Molly's eyes widened at the coolness of her friend's tone, but she said nothing. "And… and he came home and I said I wasn't in the mood. I just...I just wanted to be alone. But he didn't listen and...and..."

Amy gestured as if to encourage the other girl to continue.

"I - I think - He...he tried to rape me." The word tasted like bile on her tongue.

Amy looked at her with big eyes, trying to comprehend everything that Molly was saying. Slowly, she stood up and, for a moment, Molly was ready to embrace her friend's comfort.

"You lying bitch. You horrible, evil, lying piece of shit."

Molly froze. All feelings, the horror, the fear, the betrayal, the nausea, seemed to flee her body, replaced by nothing but coldness.

"What?"

"Jesus Christ, Molly. He's been nothing but good to you. Fucking hell, when we first met him, we were all so glad that Molly had finally found someone good for her."

"Amy, I -"

Amy shook her head, tears pouring out of her eyes. "But you know, Molly, he's too fucking good for you." Molly made to speak again, but Amy cut her off. "Don't try to turn this around, you fucking whore. I just fucking talked to him! He told me everything. Everything you did. Everything he did. Everything you'd say. I thought he was joking."

"Amy, I don't know what you're -"

"OUT! Get out! Get out now, or I swear to god I'll call the police, I'll call anyone I can and have you thrown out."

Molly sat there, frozen, simply staring at her roommate. The room was spinning around them - or perhaps it was just her head. She opened her mouth to speak and yet no sound came out. Amy continued to stare at her, eyes full of anger, betrayal, fear, and pure and utter hatred. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Molly knew she should just stay. She didn't have to go.

And yet sitting there, on her own chair in her own apartment, she felt more violated, more betrayed, than she had at Mitch's. It was as though, even from wherever he was, he surrounded her. When she breathed, it was all him and in him she was drowning.

She couldn't remember leaving. She couldn't remember where she had decided to go, but, next thing she knew, she was standing on a street corner, soaking wet, without anything but the clothes she was wearing. She hadn't realised it had started to rain. It had been such a beautiful day.

But then the air was dry. She could still hear the splatter of the rain on the street, and yet it had stopped around her. A familiar hand wrapped itself around her shoulder and she felt herself being led down the street, guided by a warm arm and Micah's comforting voice.

"I was warned you'd be coming here."

"I forgot where I was going."

"I know."

She was standing alone in the kitchen and suddenly Micah was there, pressing a sweatshirt and sweatpants into her hands.

"You own sweatpants?" She wanted to laugh.

Micah simply leaned forward, kissed the top of her head, and instructed her to go change.

When she returned, Micah was sitting at the counter and pushed a cup of tea her way.

"Don't you have anything more...alcoholic?" But she accepted the cup anyway.

"Amy called," Micah said quietly, ignoring Molly's question. "She said you'd be coming here and not to let you in. That you didn't deserve it. She said some things I didn't want to hear, I didn't like to hear. Things I don't want to believe and I won't believe until I hear your side."

"My side?"

Micah nodded and took a slow sip of tea. Molly copied him and, for a minute or possibly an hour, they sat in silence.

And then she began to speak.

She told him everything. Exactly as it happened. She told him that was said, what ran through her mind. She told him how she kneed Mitch and slapped him and bit him and he still wouldn't let her go. She tried to tell him of the fear of hearing Mitch's breath and only Mitch's breath until she remembered the faint plop of metal on wood and the image of her button skidding across the floor.

And then she was in the bathroom, kneeling before the toilet with her entire body trembling. Micah's hands rubbed circles onto her back and stroked her hair back out of her face. When she finished, she leaned back against him and, to her great comfort, felt him wrap his arms tightly around her and kiss the top of her head.

"He told Amy you were lying. He called her, I guess, before you got home. He said that you were being all...clingy when he got home. And that he had a long day and just wanted to rest." Micah paused, running his hand up and down her arm and holding her close. "He said that you threatened to accuse him of...of doing exactly what he did. If he didn't...put out. He told Amy he thought you were joking, but then you ran out and he got scared."

Molly said nothing. She simply sat there, trying to figure out what exactly it was Micah was saying. It didn't make any sense. No sense at all. Mitch's attacked her, why was she suddenly the villain? Again, she felt the strange sensation of drowning. Not in air, not in water, but in the mere knowledge of Mitch's existence.

"I can't breathe," she whispered, tears threatening to finally come free.

Micah was silent. He just sat there, holding his friend until she finally found her breath and, for the first time, cried. They sat like that for hours, holding each other on the bathroom floor. By the time Molly's sobs ended, the rain outside had ceased.

"Are you going to call the police?"

Molly stared at the wall opposite her. She hadn't thought of that. The idea hadn't even crossed her mind. "I - I don't know."

In retrospect, it would have been a good idea. By the next morning, everyone she knew - and many people she didn't - seemed to know what had happened. Or, at least, they knew what Mitch had told Amy, who, not unexpectedly, told everyone she knew. Overnight, Molly Hooper had gone from somewhere between a no one and a sweet and witty biologist to the most cruel and hated girl anyone had ever met. Wicked mouths and worse eyes followed her wherever she went. No one talked to her unless they were spewing hate. No one save for Micah. Micah, who had so wonderfully gone to the old flat and collected Molly's belongings. Micah, who broke up with his oh-so-perfect boyfriend because trying to spare Molly from as much hate as he could was his sole priority.

By November, she could no longer take it. She couldn't live in his debt. So she left. She left school, left her studies. She left dancing and biology and all hopes of becoming a doctor and moved in with her father. He was sick. He needed her. Her studies could wait. Her loneliness was nothing.

But by February, her father knew that she couldn't busy herself with him much longer. He tried to encourage her to move forward with her life. Find a new university, be a doctor. Save people. But he was the only one she cared about saving. And by April, he was gone.

You can't save anyone, Molly, she told herself. Not Dad. Not yourself.

In September, she started at a new university. She continued studying biology. She avoided getting to know people, they all just end up leaving.

She was never exactly sure why she decided to become a pathologist. Perhaps it was to help catch those who hurt others. Perhaps it was to help ensure that someone always took care of the dead, that they were never forgotten. Or maybe, just maybe, it was to avoid the living. Dead people don't lie. They can't sneer at you as you pass. They can't remind you that you're less than nothing. They can't die.

The dead are easy, she concluded. The dead can never hurt you.