I wanted to share the first chapter of Molly's Hope with you. I hope you enjoy!
You can find a copy of Molly's Hope Here !
HANGOVER DREAMS ARE either nightmares from hell or heavenly inspired visions. My tongue was stuck to the top of my mouth and some kind of animal had defecated in my mouth, or at least that’s what it tasted like. “Try to drink something, Lars.” The voice was angelic. The way she said my name was like a symphony, but if she asked me to drink something other than a little more whiskey one more time, my stomach was going to explode, not to mention my head. “Shut up.” Or at least that’s what I thought I said. In my ears, it sounded a little more like the teacher from Peanuts who just mumbles. I rolled back over and someone threw a warm blanket over me. I hoped it was death. I’d been so cold for so long that even warmth from hell would be welcoming. I thought maybe someone was removing my shoes and socks. They were making too much noise. It was possible I had fallen asleep on the street. Wouldn’t be the first time. The blanket covered my toes and whisked me off into another slumber, rather it pulled me down into the depths of what actually felt like hell. “What?” I grumbled into the darkness. Someone was calling my name and I didn’t appreciate it one single bit. “It’s almost afternoon. Time to get up. Sleeping it off time is over.” I knew that voice–either that or I was still drunk. “Who cares.” The person, a woman, that woman, laughed at me. “I do.” “No one does.” I grumbled and tried to roll over. “Get up right now, Lars, before I pour ice water all over you. The ice-bucket challenge will have nothing on me before this is over.” She was trying to be aggressive and angry but failing miserably. She was a strong woman but sometimes her tough side never came through. Right now, I didn’t care. She wasn’t going to follow through with her empty threat. “Bring it.” “You asked for it.” This time I did roll over and pulled the blanket over my face. I’d just drifted back into darkness when the blanket was taken and she held true to her threat. At first, I was in shock–the coldness stole the breath from my lungs. Then I was full-blown angry. “Who do you think you are? No one invited you here.” My eyes were bulged open, my attempt at forcing some sense of being awake without caffeine or a shower or a little more vodka to dull the throbbing between my temples. “Let’s get you in the shower. You smell like a drunken dumpster.” “I can get myself into the shower. Why are you here?” She got up from kneeling on the floor beside my mattress. Her hair wasn’t as long as it used to be. I remembered it all the way down her back. Now it stopped just below her shoulder. Maybe my eyesight was finally going because it wasn’t shiny either. It was also like silk when I ran my fingers through it. “I’ll start the water. Hot or cold? You always liked cold showers for some reason.” I didn’t want her to go into my bathroom or in my apartment. She wasn’t welcome here. I didn’t even want to look at her face. She turned her back on me a long time ago. There was no point in having her here. All I was going to do was sleep. Now, she’ll just aggravate me. “Hot. I’m freezing now.”
While she was gone, I took the moment to look down at the state of me. I usually didn’t care what I looked like during the day but especially after drinking. I was wearing a gray shirt and some jeans I didn’t remember owning. That couldn’t be good news. My mattress and blankets were sopping wet. Half of the blankets were on the floor, and the other half bunched on the other side of the bed. It wasn’t the first time waking up like that either. I looked to see if my wallet was around. I hated losing it. Usually the guys at the bar held onto it for me. It appeared to be on the floor near the mattress. I didn’t have much by way of furniture because I didn’t need much. Most of my clothes stayed in the basket since my landlady usually did it for me. She would also bring me some she found. I rolled onto my knees and managed to get up on my feet. I peeked out the bedroom door and saw the apartment looked more like a tornado of fast food and alcohol had passed through while I was out. Did I even care? No. I’ll pick it up later. Maybe. “There you go. Do you need help?” I didn’t answer. Instead I took ten minutes getting on my feet and then stripped myself down to my boxers right in front of her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it before–after all–we had been married once. “Why are you here?” I asked again, stalking to the shower. I didn’t even give her a chance to answer. There was no answer that would placate me at this point. There was still too much drink in my system. There was still too much anger in my veins. There was still so much hate for her in my heart. The steaming hot water soothed my muscles enough for me to lift my arms and wash my hair. I knew this relaxed state wouldn’t last. It would be enough to get me through this shower. I needed to get some coffee–and maybe food– to help dull the headache. Did I have food here? Probably not. I could always call for some from Mom. Either way, Molly Williamson had to leave.