THE BASICS
Name: Molly Elizabeth Williams.
Gender: cis Female, She/Her.
Age: Thirty-One.
Birthday: October 23rd, 1991.
Zodiac Sign: Scorpio.
Location: Aslihan’s Guest House, Claret Park, Providence Peak, CO.
Birthplace: New Kingman-Butler, Arizona.
Orientation: Bisexual.
THE PHYSIQUE
Eye Color: Brown.
Natural Hair Color: Brown.
Height: 5′ 8″.
Body Type: Athletic.
Allergies: Latex (inclusive of food sensitivity to avocado, banana, passion fruit, and kiwi).
Dominant Hand: Left.
Scars: A darkened area on her right knee from several clumsy base slides, a fading burn or two on her arms because girl refuses to use an oven mitt, and several (tw implied domestic abuse) thin scars scattered over her body from brushes with the devil.
Tattoos: Shark linework done by a friend who’s couch she was crashing on in Florida bc they decided they randomly wanted to be a tattoo artist one day ( x, nsfw )
Piercings: She absolutely has her belly button pierced. End sentence.
( trigger warnings for implied domestic abuse and implied abortion )
Life is like a box of chocolates. At least, that’s what Tom Hanks liked to say in his hit movie Forrest Gump. Molly, on the other hand, preferred to view life as a box of fireworks. Some moments, such as her relationship with her father, lit up the sky brightly only to slowly fizzle out over time, never really amounting to anything more than a disappointment and when the sparks were gone, it left a dull smokiness tinted sky behind, empty and void.
When she was born, Henry Peter Williams wasn’t a half-bad kind of dude. He showed up to her birth, at least, so that had to be something, right? Sans the fact that he insisted her middle name should be Elizabeth and her mother, unknowing that it was the name of his long lost lover, agreed to it, thinking it had a nice flow with the rest of her name. Molly Elizabeth Williams. It did have a ring to it, but she scoffed now, thinking about how stupid her mother was to not see what was right in front of her. Her dad did a good job of hiding it, though, the way his heart longed for someone else; another family, another life, one that Molly was always curious about but never questioned. And at first, it didn’t matter, because her dad was hers and he was there. He was there for her middle of the night feedings, every time she tripped as she took her first steps, her skinned knees during her preschool age when she still hadn’t managed to get the hang of her knobby knees or gangly limbs, and her baseball practices during elementary school, when she insisted she was going to play baseball instead of softball because it the sport shouldn’t be different because she was a girl. Even after, he had been the type of dad to stay at the field late, throwing the ball back and forth as she practiced her catches, tapping her baseball cap over her eyes as they laughed on their way to get ice cream.
He was a good dad - at first. Just like the firework was a good firework. The golden sparkles creating a waterfall over the spectators, garnering ooh’s and ahh’s, commenting how much of a good dad he was. But just like the firework, that part of his life fizzled out. It happened slowly. A Busch here and a Miller Light there, stacked up precariously against the slew of pizza boxes in their trailer, always able to tell what kind of day it had been by the size of the tower. The fizzle dropped a spark, her mother, beautiful at first only to turn into ash as it hit the ground, just a piece of burnt cardboard in the end. She didn’t remember much about the woman leaving, just mumbled words in the dark dawn of a morning, a promise to come back for her which turned out to be as empty as the beer cans against the wall, and a claim that she just couldn’t do it anymore. Like the burst of brightness in the sky, there was always an end.
After her mom left, the sky dimmed, and there wasn’t much of a show anymore, yet somehow, Molly still felt like there was an audience laughing and clapping somewhere, like everyone was in on the joke except her, because that’s what it felt like, a joke. It was the only thing she could think of that kept the tears from rolling down her chubby cheeks. And even though there wasn’t much of a show, the show still went on regardless. It just went on a little more sporadically - a burst of light here, a large boom there, all seemingly going off without a care in the world, a reckless abandon that was left unsupervised as her dad spiraled, hopping in and out of jobs like he did women, never really finding a stable ground to land on as she was tasked with not only taking care of herself, but taking care of him as well. She went to school, found a job, moved her dad to the couch when he’d passed out at the kitchen table. Sometimes, there were times in her life that felt like the little fireworks that were always meant to be shaped like something, a heart or a smiley face, and even though they were almost always upside down, they still brought a tiny bit of excitement to the patient onlookers.
Then, there were moments like her first and last long term relationship and the way his palms first landed against her skin, like a different kind of firework, one that you barely saw coming but heard loud and clear when it did, startling everyone watching, startling her the most. Yet, the crowd still stayed, still were fooled by those unexpected roars in the late night sky and somehow, deep down, sad to see them disappear. She met him during her senior year of high school. He was nineteen and had his own place, a trailer a few courts down from her own where she started spending all of her time. She should have known, by the familiarity of the stack of cans in the corner, but Molly knew he wasn’t anything like her dad. It wasn’t like she ended up being wrong. Sadly, she turned out to be right - he wasn’t anything like her dad. He was over attentive, where her dad was a useless lump on the best days and gone with the wind on the worst. He was controlling, where her dad stopped caring about what she did a long time ago. But most of all, the way he laid his hands on her was anything but a little tap on a baseball cap. Yet there she was. Molly Elizabeth Williams. Easily fooled by the beauty of the firework to not be prepared for the loud crack of the sky that came after.
It took years of those relentless fireworks, one after another, like it was some kind of grand finale of her life that caused her to cackle with laughter when she was finally alone, those tears she’d tried to keep inside a long time ago finally rolling over her cheeks, no longer chubby with the innocence of childhood. That was long gone and instead, she was left with two pink lines and a few dozen scars as the show rushed around her, spitting colors and upside down smiley faces and bursts of light every which way. If that was the end, at least it would be a fitting one.
But, maybe Forrest Gump was right and fireworks were a shitty analogy for life and instead, she should just throw the whole fucking box of chocolates away and start over somewhere new without fireworks or chocolates. The opportunity came when her then-boyfriend had been injured on the job, leaving him to depend entirely on her and he thought he had her captivated enough that he could. Until she received a call from the owner of the trailer court her dad lived in, claiming he hadn’t paid lot rent in a few months, and that she either had to pay it up for him or get out. So Molly took the chance to get out. She sold the trailer, threw away the box of chocolates, and made a pit stop at the local clinic before throwing her middle finger up at the fireworks show in the distance as she left, spending the next few years couch surfing with friends before ending up in the same city as the family she’d discovered never fizzled from her dad’s memory, intent on seeing if the brother she’d never known had turned out exactly like Henry Williams, or if he’d somehow found a way to escape the same fate she found herself headed down.
