[At first, she didn't understand why Adler had chosen her, of all people. She isn't important, she doesn't count—or so she had thought. And then, after awhile, the why of it stopped mattering. She'd been locked up so long that she started to weary of thinking about leaving, about going back to her life, about being free. The days wore on, cooped up, and then Molly stopped hearing the click of the lock on the door. If it happened at all, every time Irene left, she didn't notice.
She was too busy wishing her captor would come back.
Molly stares at the door of the room where she's kept. She pretends to be occupied with a book, sometimes, but for the moment she's dropped all pretense of caring.]
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She was too busy wishing her captor would come back.
Molly stares at the door of the room where she's kept. She pretends to be occupied with a book, sometimes, but for the moment she's dropped all pretense of caring.]