Hardwood || Molthur
A few days later, Arthur wakes himself up with a jolt. The clock tells him itâs 3 am. The empty space beside him tells him heâs not going to be going to bed any time soon. He pulls on his dressing gown and starts the all too familiar methodical search of the rooms, continuing even after he notices the lights on in the kitchen.Â
All the boys are in bed, his mother is asleep in the guest room and Arthur has a sinking suspicion he knows where his wife is.
The rug he summoned is gone, Molly is bent over a bucket of suds, scrubbing the floor with a brush. Scrubbing the blood stain with a brush. Itâs just as dark as it was that horrible day he found it. Arthur doesnât have to look at Mollyâs face to know sheâs been crying, but he does anyway, just so she can see some kindness, just so she can know she isnât alone.Â
Wordlessly, Arthur summons a brush of his own and joins her. They scrub in silence for a long time and finally, Arthur is starting to see a small bit of it fading away.
âMolly-â
He hears her stop scrubbing, but he doesnât look up or stop.
âI-I have to tell you something.â
@mollymotherofweasels
