—Fall. 1982. Moving Day—

"Go after some stupid sister in some stupid forest with a stupid name. Seriously, who names a place Holwell?" Molly scoffed, her boots crunching against dried up leaves and dead grass.

Holwell, Maryland was not where she expected her life to turn to. Especially not after her dad took his own life. Her mom married this new guy, Dave. The name left a sour taste in her mouth. What a generic, straight, white male name to have. That might be petty and a bit too far-fetched. But she just hated him nonetheless. Dave has this weird daughter, Heather. She's been even more weird since they moved to this shithole. Their house was literally a church in the more rural part of Holwell. A little bit of a journey to get into town.

She kicked a stick in her way, Walkman strapped to her waist and headphones plugged in. Heather was standing around, looking at shadows that seemed to curl the wrong way. Trees that swayed with no breeze. Grass that dented with no step. Molly was supposed to be looking after her while her mom and stepfather unpacked everything, but her eyes caught into a small farmland ahead. Right on the dirt trail they used to get to actually socialise with people.

Great. She had neighbours.

She took a few steps closer to see if anyone was truly there or if it was another ghost estate. There was a man with a burly beard, white as snow, old enough. Maybe fifty. He was hunching over, chicken food in his hand as he poured it into their tray. Wow. Interesting. Her only company here in this place without cycling for thirty minutes is an old man with chickens. Perfect.

Molly was going to go insane in here.

Until you came out. Flannel tied at the waist, sleeves rolled up, fingers tucking your hair behind your ear as you dragged a scuffed up scarecrow across the miniature farm, cursing like it owed you money. There was dirt smeared on your cheek, wheat in your mouth. Classic country girl. Almost looking like you came out of one of those sappy rom-coms her dad would make her watch just to see her squirm when hot women would pop up on the screen.

So maybe.. not so bad?

Baltimore didn't have hot girls like this. So that's a checkmate for this shithole.

You looked up and caught eyes with her, a small wave. A smile too. Molly smiled back, headphones dangling. Heather continued to roam the woods until Molly left without her. The younger girl just refused to cooperate.

She walked back to the house, a little more giddy. Just a smidge.

"Where's Heather?" Dave asked, his eyes not meeting hers like usual. Her mom looked up from her painting—well, attempt at getting back into painting. "Still in the woods." Molly replied, tone sharp like it always was with him. She set her Walkman out on the table as her stepfather grumbled unde this breath about 'not leaving kids in the woods' which... was true. But they had to remember that she was also their daughter and not a free fucking babysitter.

"You were supposed to be watching her." Her mom said, paintbrush held between her fingers.

"I just—got distracted." Molly said, eyes falling back to the dirt trail.