Name: Mallory
Title: my god is a good god (but he's not here right now)
Story: And The Devil Makes Three
Colors: Halloween Orange: A moment and my simple, careless plans were all unmade.
Ghost White: psychopomp
Supplies: Eraser
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Trauma, hints at rape, kidnapping, breaking down someone. It's the verse with Molly and Annabelle. It's not happy.
Word count; 572
Notes:New journal for me but an old verse. I love this universe and this version of this universe, even though it's rather heartbreaking. I've really not done much with these girls in a bit and wanted to get a feel for them. Also, the stylistic choices in this seem silly but I really thought they were kind of cool.

Molly did not have the powers of precognition. She didn't know what would happen. She thought she would help and move on.

She was wrong.

The body was laying on the hotel floor, and there was no one to notice her when she slipped inside. She whispered the words of beckoning and watched as the woman appeared to her. Molly reached out, brushed fingers through incorporeal skin and was about to speak when she heard the noise behind her.

“I’m sorry,” the woman says and she was crying. Molly only realized that it wasn't because she was dead a moment before she received the blow to to the back of her head.

~

Annabelle wakes up, tired and sore and ready for the day to be over. But Molly is more tired. Molly can’t bring herself to get out of bed and Annabelle understands that feeling.

There are days she can’t get out of bed and it’s Molly who has to be the one to put on a face for Him.

But today Annabelle can do it because Molly needs her to. Molly is too tired and too heartsick to be pulled away from her dark corner.

Her safe corner.

So Annabelle gets to her feet, bare toes wiggling on the carpet and she pads outside, waiting for the day to begin.

~

Molly learned quickly how tot be a good girl, how to be an angel. She learned because she didn't want to keep living in the dark and the cold. He wasn't going to kill her, that threat was never on the table. He simply dangled freedom in front of her instead, promised tastes of it if she behaved.

And Molly did. She got on her knees when He told her to, she cleaned when He told her to, she sang like a pretty bird when He told her to.

And in exchange she would be allowed in the forest, allowed sweet breaths of freedom for a few moments at a time.

It wasn't much, it wasn't the freedom she truly wanted, but it kept her going.

It was enough.

All the way until the moment it wasn't.

~

Annabelle has seen Molly break before. She’s seen the girl shatter and put herself together over and over again. She knows she can do it.

But sometimes sh wonders if this time will be the last, if Molly has hit the point of no return.

And every time she thinks she’s there, Molly comes back. She stitches herself together from smaller and smaller pieces and she comes back.

Annabelle doesn't cry often, hardly ever really, but when Molly finds the strength to come back, she finds herself crying until she falls asleep.

~

Molly told herself stories about the person He wanted her to be. Secret tales about Annabelle The Good Girl. Annabelle The Angel.

She told herself those stories until she thought he believed in them.

But it wasn't believe so much as greeting, it wasn't faith as much it was confrontation.

~

You meet in the dark space of your mind. She reaches out to you and it’s a mirror. You think you’re reaching out but there’s something in the eyes that tells you she’s different.

You want to say you’re sorry but she says it first.

“I’m sorry.”

Neither of you are sure why the other is apologizing until the light floods in and both of you see Him standing in the doorway.