Miss Prior - Book #1

Chapter 1

Mollie Prior wasn't exactly happy. Nor was she unhappy. She was just there. There was no time to be unhappy, not when her father was working her to death. Being a Physician was not one of her ambitions, it was her fathers. Playing out his own dreams on his only child left because the other two had moved away. Mollie's brother, Jack, had moved a few towns down south for work and her sister, Ada, had moved to London some 3 years ago. Ada had always said she'd get a better life down there, for her sake, Mollie hoped she was right.

As the youngest of three children, Mollie had always felt like she missed out on certain things. All the attention from her father went to Ada and Jack. However, now they had moved away, she was in centre frame. But she didn't particularly like it. Her father was a brooding man, warmed only by a smile once he deemed fit (which seemed to be very rarely as of late). His hair was greying at the roots yet he would be the first to deny of any ageing. Delusional and stoic, that's how Ada describes him in her very rare letters her and Mollie exchanged. When he smiled, it was a scary occurrence, as it never seemed genuine. Every facial muscle seemed yanked upward by string. Eyes not lit up in happiness, but rather drooped with a grey hostility.

Mollie closed her book, the sun was lowering itself behind the hills that stretched for miles outside her window. The light was getting too dim for her to read. With a small grunt, she leaned over to turn off the gas lamp on her wall behind her. Carefully sliding the book back onto the shelf, she stood. Her hand slowly traced over the spines of the books. They weren't hers, they were her fathers. All varied in size, genre and colour, mixed together on one shelf. Mollie thought it looked like a clutter, he didn't. Her fingers traced across a frayed leather-bound book, her eyes widened. Quicker than she knew possible, her arm retracted back, so much so that her shoulder cracked slightly. With a deep breath and widened eyes, she walked swiftly out the room.

That room had always had a bad energy about it. A presence so strong that as a child, Mollie only dared step foot in there when she had her crucifix necklace. It never subsided the bad feelings, though. Everyone else had tried to tell her that it was the spirit of her mother, that she was watching over them all. Mollie knew better. Her mother's energy was timid, this energy was imposing. It pressed down upon your chest, made the skin on your face feel tight and made your eyes bloodshot. No one else seemed to feel it, however. She stumbled out into the hallway, the gas lamp was on low and flickered in the darkness, giving the area an atmosphere that you would read in one of the new thriller novels.

Heavy breathing filled the silence as she walked into the living area. Her father sat loosely holding a glass half filled with whiskey. She swallowed. Her footsteps were silenced by the rug she had stepped on. "Good evening, father." Her voice was quiet, for fear of disturbing his quiet. A small wave of the glass hand indicated her to walk in, so she did. The empty chair looked less than inviting but the fireplace had an enticing aura, so she sat. He didn't turn to face her, his sunken eyes stared deep into the flames. No indication of life flashed across his features, aside from the rapid movement of his pupils as he flickered over the sparks. Mollie bit the inside of her cheek and straightened her trousers out, it didn't mask the crumpling of the beige fabric.

"George," He started, slowly and sternly. "You are most definitely not going to achieve your doctorate by sitting around drinking." Her father placed his drink loudly on the table. She flinched.

"I'm not drinking anything!" Mollie protested, exasperated in both mind and spirit. "Besides, it's the evening and you specifically stated earlier in the year that if I have worked all day and it comes to the evening, that I may sit with you." He grunted in response. Mollie frowned. Trying was useless with him, he never appreciated anything, let alone the finer things in life.

She waited a minute or two, but no other response came, he just sat there. Mollie bit her lip so hard that she believed it would burst into an extraordinary array of crimson reds. With that, she left again. Their interactions were always short lived, this was all too usual. As soon as she had only just left the room, her father stood up immediately. She turned around, facing him. His eyebrows were furrowed and his top lip was quivering. She gulped.

"Father, I-" Mollie fought back her stuttering, stepping backwards slightly.

"I am trying to be patient with you, George." The angrier he got, the more his Scottish accent showed; it would be funny if not for the circumstances. "But I simply cannot take you sitting around being lazy! I am not paying for you to mess up your education!" Spittle drained out of his mouth like a water fountain. She flinched backward.

"I have worked all day, father," Mollie exclaimed. It was true, she had almost fully read one of the books on anatomy her father had brought her. So much so that her back began to ache from being sat in one chair all day. "I am not some machine in one of them factories that can work all the time. I'm tired."

The anger sat into his face, setting his features in stone. "Tiredness isn't going to get your doctorate!" That is when he began to shout. The paintings of old relatives on the wall began to shake, as if their spirits were at unrest. Mollie always believed they were.

Many words bubbled in Mollie's stomach, rising through each of her organs in turn. "I don't want to be a doctor!" The truth burst out of her like a moth darting toward a flame. In this case, the flame was her father. A gasp also escaped her lips, she stumbled back. Wincing, she clutched her head that she had hit rather hard during her tumble backwards.

Blood rushed to her fathers head, the redness rising from his chin to his forehead. He looked like a caricature drawing she would draw of him as a child. Of course, she wished to be a child again. Back then, she was free of responsibility, running around with her siblings. Now they were gone and the workload weighed hard on her, crushing at her back. The scarlet hue his skin was now turning contrasted with the creamy white wall behind him. He seemed to shake with anger.

Mollie ran then. Darting down the hall, hands flying out to brush past the walls to keep her own balance. This seemed like one of the only times recently that she was thankful for being unable to wear any dresses. Because if she was, Lord knows she would be tripping over everything in sight. She couldn't hear the footsteps of her father trailing off as he stopped and turned angrily back into the living area. Instead, she ran through more of the winding halls to her room.

The door slammed behind her, her short hair hung loosely in front of her eyes. It was pushed back swiftly. A breathy laugh broke the silence as she panted, trying desperately to catch her breath. The laugh had no humour within it, it was more relief. Situations like this made her realise how much she despised living here. Whether it was her father, the work, the large but empty house, the absence of her mother and siblings or all combined, something was deterring her away from this place.

Slowly, her eyes traced every detail around the room, focus finally laying on the folded letter lying on her mahogany wooden dresser. A thoughtful frown lain its way across her face and steadily stepped towards it. With cautious hands, she lifted the letter from its askew spot in the centre. It was a letter from Ada. In all honesty, it was sent six months ago but Mollie had only just opened last Wednesday. She couldn't help but feel quite bad about that.

The letter was sloppily written, the sprawled handwriting was barely readable. Mollie figured Ada must have had a couple of drinks beforehand. However, that wasn't out of the ordinary. The actual content of the letter was fairly competent, if you looked past the frequent misspellings in the second paragraph. The majority of the letter was describing her life in London, it seemed okay. Mollie knew she was lying. But it gave a description of her location (which was hopefully accurate) and that was what Mollie needed at that point.

A grin spread across her face and a light came about her eyes. A sudden swiftness took over her body, she ran to her bed, very quickly falling to her knees. She bent down and reached her arms underneath, pulling out a moderately sized case. Clicking filled the air and the case swung open. Quickly, she ran and packed as many clothes as she could, squashing her shirts down with as much pressure as she was able to muster. Mollie then held the letter in her hands, running her thumb over the already frayed edges of the browning paper. Her gaze drifted over the signed name at the bottom. Ada. A sad smile came over her face. She put it in the case and closed it.

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Authors Note:
Thank you for reading the first chapter! To avoid any confusion, Mollie is called George by her father as she is trans (but can't yet present as female due to the time period). I have a plan for this book and hopefully I can turn it into a series if it does well. Updates should be fairly regular, but I may get sidetracked by schoolwork.
-@xoanow