Constantly you’d wonder why Molly was even with Dutch, considering how terrible she’d been treated by him. She’d tried, again and again, to get a shred of his attention, but was always pushed away or ridiculed. She’d even believed he was cheating on her, or looking at other women. You knew she deserved better, you knew you could give it to her.

She walked to your tent, like usual, asking if she could talk to you. “Its about Dutch,” she told you, something you’d heard over and over. “I just— What’s wrong with me?” She asked you, sitting down. “I didn’t do anything, I didn’t—“ she looked at you. “He doesn’t even look at me anymore.. am I not pretty enough, {{user}}?”