the house we made -- Damon

[Molly Roxann Hart]

"Two eggs," Molly's voice perked up as she reached into the fridge feeling the cold air on her arm before retracting her arm and setting the eggs in a bowl on the counter top where she could find them later. Reaching back into the fridge her fingers fumbled with the plastic bag full of fresh picked tomatoes she'd gotten this morning from the market, giving the tomatoes the same treatment as the eggs, she set them on the counter and leaned into the fridge door her eyes scanning the insides as she bit her lip. "Two eggs, a carton of ricotta, fresh tomatoes," her mind read threw the recipe she'd cooked this a million times, and she thought she had everything, but of course something felt mision, something she couldn't place. "Rat poision," her mind filled in the blank.

She frowned at the thought, slamming the door of the fridge, why did that keep happening? She couldn't fathem any reason why but for a week now it seemed like thoughts of killing her husband just popped into her head and filled her with a sense of dread. She sighed and turned away from the fridge walking towards the rest of the kitchen figuring she'd remember later when she needed it as she turned to her freshly cleaned counters now covered with ingredents for her favorite dish, Lasagna. Maybe all she needed was a good meal, food always helped. She could surprise Damon and they could have a nice night together, just talking and she could remind herself how much she loved her husband, and he'd be happy for all the work she'd put into the dish. The thought of them being together, alone and not rushed around for once was enough too make Molly smile as she tied her apron around her waist covering her green tank top and jean shorts she liked to be comfy when she cooked. Besides she had plenty of time to get dressed up before he came home.

I'm awful at openings I hope you can use this.

[Damon Quentin Hart]

Damon ran long fingers through his burnished brown locks before dropping his hands to un-button the long white coat he was forced to wear everyday. Working as a pharmacuetical technician brought in pay, enough to where he'd been able to purchase a house with a good down payment, and support his wife and him. The thought of Molly brought a slow smile to his lips as he turned to glass at the bottles of medication that surrounded him, deep blue hues landing upon a bottle of Ritalin. A fairly common medicine for those with ADHD but also one that was easy to over-dose on. An easy way to end it. Damon jerked at the thought that had just crossed his mind, what the hell was wrong with him?

Releasing a frustrated break he pulled the coat off before placing it securely on the hook. His shift was ending early after only nine hours because of the slow delay and some new technician needing the hours. Lucky for Damon he'd always taken money management seriously, and rarely found himself or Molly hurting for money. Raising a hand in a silent goodbye to the new female who offered up a wink in response. Turning his back on her Damon moved to leave the pharmacy. He was married after all and he truely did love Molly even if it showed less and less these days because of their current...estrangement. Pulling his keys from his pocket Damon unlocked his '07 Dodge Ram painted a clean black and settled himself in the leather seat.

It took only a few minutes to arrive infront of the older victorian styled home. Damon had bought the house with the intention of him and Molly fixing it up together. He knew it wasn't a white-washed house on the hill but something about the fairly large home was comforting. Drawing in a breath and pulling the keys from the ignition Damon dropped from the truck, a paper bag tucked securely underneath his arm, and closed the door behind him before striding towards the back door to the house. Straightening the simple grey tee-shirt and tossing a look towards his simple blue jeans he pulled the door open and entered the house. Settling the keys on a key rack beside the door he glanced around the laundry room he'd entered to from the back door. A decidedly delicious smell was coming from the kitchen and another slow smile pulled across Damon's lips. A portion of him was now fairly happy he'd detoured on his way home to pick up a bottle of wine as a random treat for him and Molly.

Apparently they'd be able to enjoy wine and a home cooked meal tonight together. Damon silently hoped it would clear the air between them and he could put a stop to the thoughts of disposing of Molly. Deep blue hues glanced around the kitchen attempting to find the blonde haired woman he'd given his heart to back in college. Even though he still felt something for her, Damon had repeatedly considered asking for a divorce. It had been so long since he'd laughed with her or even touched her. It was as if they were two beings interacting around eachother even though they shared the same bed. Determined to make tonight better then others Damon steeled himself and called out for her.

"Molly? Honey, you home?"

[Molly Roxann Hart]

James Wilson was a hard working man, he was man who lead his life by the book, and what he took in as god's will for his life. Growing up that'd more often then not meant many nights alone for him, locked away in his tower of an office, studying, responding to emails, writing or planning lessons and projects. There was always something to be done, something to do, someone who needed help and James wasn't a man who thought anyone else could help as well as he could so he tried to do it all himself. Because of the way he'd lived his life, it'd made the times when he was home and out of his office special. If you were noticed for something, a good grade, a performance that he pulled himself away from his work for it seemingly made the entire world sparkle, but the best was always dinner time for Molly, when they'd all sat around, and no words needed too be spoken, but the room was warm with love and everyone was happy and full.

Most of Molly's adult life had been spent rebeling against her parents, doing everything she could to be away from them. It brought a bitter sweet sort of smile to her face now to be using their methods to try and bring happiness into her own home. The kitchen had been the source of happiness for all of them, it brought in homemade cookies, and birthday cakes, popcorn for movies, and ice cream for break ups. Molly touched the side of the refridgerator biting her lip harder, a kitchen could bring you almost everything you needed, but could it fix the love that her marriage needed? Could the food that she had all laid out, find the knawing thoughts of killing her husband, and of lonlieness in her stomach and silence them? She could only pray they might do something against everything.

Molly cooked in silence, a cold harsh silence, that brought back to her the sound of her knife against the chopping board when she brought her knife down swiftly. Her mind didn't travel to a place where killing her husband with the knife was even possible, she could never hurt him like that, she just swallowed the silence and her thoughts. She didn't sing or hm like she typically did in the kitchen, throwing things in a pan and into the oven, the clanging of pans was harsh, like thunder, she sighed a sour breath before leaving to their bedroom to change. She swapped out her old overalls, and ratty teeshirt for a summer dress, a plain blue dress that clung to her nicely, but was still plain. She sighed in the mirror, there was nothing too over done about it, nothing that popped, months ago she'd have gone all out and decorated this dress with pearls and been so excited for his dinner, not barely bothering to touch up her make up. Now as she looked into the mirror with hard eyes the only things that stood out were the tattoos on her shoulders, paradise birds, that she'd gotten to go against her parents, she was the bird born to be free but lonely by it's self she'd gotten them as a pair, months later she'd thought she'd met her match that made her a pair with Damon,now she wasn't she. She carried herself down to the kitchen, in a defeated manor, the aroma of food was heavenly, but still the thought of the dinner that now loomed near was heavy on her stomach. Could she really sit across from him for so long?

Molly attempted to fight the thoughts away, as she moved her hair, that hung in a loose low ponytail on the side over her shoulder. The ends were still curled from earlier in the day, it was a summer time relaxed look, easily managed and easy too move in. She made sure all her hair was up before leaning down into the open oven to check on dinner, which was the moment Damon chose to make his entrance. She smiled at his question, "In here" was all she gave back tho, she couldn't bring herself to say I love you, or welcome home. Pulling herself out of the oven, she did manage to pull a smile onto her face, as she awaited his arrival into the room.

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[Damon Quentin Hart]

More then once Damon had questioned his sanity in the past few weeks. He and Molly had hardly fought, and when they did it tended to get nasty and many allegations were tossed out and hurtful words easily directed to wound the other. At first it had all seemed typical, a married couple fighting. And at first, Damon thought it wasn't half bad because they always managed to come together in the end. But then the fights got more brutal, stinging words hitting their mark and now he found himself thinking of several ways to harm Molly, something that he wasn't taking lightly. It was hard for him to wake up in the morning to her in the shower and not consider throwing an electric device into the water. Instead he now found himself fairly avoiding her, Damon had no real want to kill his wife, it only felt like a need.

Dark blonde brows knit together momentarily at the route his thoughts had taken. It was sickening to him, considering killing Molly, the woman he'd given his last name to. Drawing in a breath in a lame attempt to stop his raging thoughts Damon drew his elegant fingertips through his dirty blonde locks and pasted a smile onto his face as his arm dropped and he entered the kitchen at her calling. Breath was once more drawn in at the sight of Molly in the kitchen. She was severely attractive to him, not that he felt comfortable getting close to her as deep blue hues settled upon the necklace at her throat. Possible to strangle. Once more the dark thoughts crept into his mind and wiped nearly every ounce of happiness from his facade. Clearing his throat Damon reached into the paper bag he'd been holding and withdrew the bottle of red wine.

"To lighten the mood."

It was simple enough. But at the same time Damon thought his words rather took out the romance from coming home to his wife and a home cooked meal with a bottle of red wine. He currently had every man's dream and yet Damon found it nearly impossible to appreciate anymore with all the madness dancing around. Setting the bottle on the counter he tossed the paper bag in the trash and momentarily considered crossing the distance between himself and Molly to hug her or at least touch her in some way. Just to feel the spark that had once existed. Deciding against it as hues once more began to drift to her necklace Damon spoke up in a rather forced manner.

"Got to come home early, new girl wanted some hours."

Damon thought he sounded like an idiot, mumbling in a way that made the conversation even more forced. He also planned on saving the classic 'how was your day?' questions for when they sat down for dinner. Molly at least deserved a bit of attention and care from him even as he thought of using objects against her to inflict harm. Perhaps the idea of a marriage therapist wasn't a bad one. Smiling in a manner that appeared easy Damon moved to grab dinnerware from the cabinets. Intending to help her set the table for dinner he crossed to the adjoining room where their rather small dining table sat. Since it was only the two of them it had been decided that having a large table would be ridiculous. And at the time Damon had found the idea of sitting closer to Molly rather appealing, now he wished they'd settled on a mile-long table.

Frustrated and uneasy he quickly placed the plates and forks down on the table along with two wine glasses and immediately decided against laying out any knives. He didn't need to be staring at the gleaming tool during dinner. Turning from the table Damon entered the kitchen once more to grab the bottle of wine and began to fill their glasses. How easy it would be to slip something into her drink. Slamming the bottle down on the table as the dark thoughts once more crept up on him Damon turned from the table, body tight and muscles tensed as he forced a pleasant smile on his face.

"Need me to carry anything else?"

[Molly Roxann Hart]

Molly could count on one hand how many times she'd ever had to raise her fist in the name of violence. That she'd been in a real fight, that she'd ripped her knuckles open on someone else's skin, and hurt them. Three times, and in every time that she'd been forced to raise her fist she'd come out victorious, she was brutal and took any opening she saw no matter how cheap the shot was. Still in those three times, none of them had been for herself, she didn't like hurting her hand or another person, she'd felt guilty for a while after all of those fights, one time she'd even felt bad enough that she sent them a fruit basket when it was done. This adittude hadn't really changed since she was an adult, she'd just learned too keep her temper better, so where in the world were these thoughts coming from?

She'd been having nightmares, of finding herself bathed in her husbands blood, with some sort of instrument of his death in her hand. At first it'd been something she thought from reading violent mystery novels, or watching too many horror movies, but now those thoughts crept into her waking thoughts, and she was forced to swallow bile when he came into the room, not sure if that feeling was from her thoughts of killing him, or from the fact a hatred was starting to grow inside of her stomach when he was in the room. Yet in her memories, she still found herself in love with him, the change was hard on her. She no longer trusted herself with him alone, she was scared to hurt him, to loose a moment of time here or there and forget what she'd done only to find out she'd killed him in some way. She worried he could see it, like he could smell the madness on her, since he'd retracted himself from her as of late.

His voice made her skin want to crawl, the sudden warmth from his body even though it laid on the other side of the room made her contemplate vomitting. Still she managed a smile, at the jesture of the wine, they'd both need a drink to get threw tonight, just the two of them. She nodded at his explaination for why he was home early. "That's nice." she said nonchalontly, not really carrying why he was here, just carrying he was in her space. She ignored him while he set the table trying to think of herself sitting their with her husband, it was a small table, she sighed under her breath and looked back at their dinner in the oven, before turning to the counter. The wine was sitting there, her mind flashed with visions of breaking the bottle over his head, not being able to tell which was blood and which was red wine.

Molly's hands shook at the thought, before moving from the spot she'd been glued too since he walked into the kitchen. She began to clear the counter of the left over ingredients she'd left laying about. Her hand hovered over the knife, it felt like a weight in her hand, and some part of her mind spoke to her, "it only takes a pound of pressure to cut flesh," she didn't know where she knew the fact but she did, and it sickened her more than that of the images in her mind, she threw the knife into the sink as Damon re-entered the room, clearing her throat she told him, "Why don't you get cleaned up for dinner than, it'll be ready soon," she excused him from her kitchen like one would an unwelcome house guest, but she tried too keep it out of her voice. Tears nearly welling in her eyes, from the sheer force it took to be in the room with him.

Her husband had been her best friends for years, and someone who she turned to when she felt down. He was one of the only people in the world who could comfort her nerves, but it'd always been done with physical comfort. Without his constant touch, she felt streched out and fraid, sighing and angry all the time. Her friends had mentioned getting laid, but she couldn't do it. Damon wouldn't touch her and as much as she hated him right now, she still loved him too much to ever betray them. As Molly stood in front of the sink, which had a window in the wall so she could look out at her garden, she gripped both sides of the sink and missed her best friends, why was this happening she wondered for the umptenth time. She sighed, and hung her head instead of searching for answers though, waiting for dinner to be done so she might sleep where she might find an answer or a pleasant moment with her husband at least they could lay in bed together...right?

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[Damon Quentin Hart]

Deep blue hues took note of Molly's own tenseness and for a moment Damon hated himself with a passion. Molly was probably feeling the murderous vibes rolling off him in strong waves. Shoving a hand through burnished brown locks he nodded stiffly to his wave, forcing his eyes from her face and to the doorway into the living room where a set of stairs led up to the bedrooms above. The house had always had so much room for them, and Damon had purchased the house with the idea in mind to fix it up and make it safe for children because at one point in time he'd wanted kids with Molly. Now he wanted to strangle her.

Damon's back immediately straightened as he stopped himself from turning around and going back into the kitchen and doing just that. Elegant fingertips that had once been so familiar with Molly's soft skin now craved feeling the air leave her lungs. That fateful palm gripped the stair railing as Damon forced himself up the stairs considering the possibility of checking himself into a mental ward. What was wrong with him? Entering their rather quaint bedroom a slow smile spread across rosen lips as he glanced at the bed that Molly had made already early that morning. Damon left early in the mornings, earlier then needed just to get out of the house and away from his wife. Or perhaps it was just to get away from his murderous intentions towards her.

Confused in the least Damon pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a smooth expanse of a more then well-muscled body that held a slight tan from sun exposure. Opening their closet door he moved in and quickly pulled out a pale blue and striped button-up shirt, figuring he might as well as go the extra mile for Molly since she had taken the time to dress up for him he selected a few more articles of clothing and quickly pulled them over his lean form. Stepping from the closet he approached the floor length mirror he'd installed a few months ago to make Molly happy and appeased his outfit.

Straightening his dress-pants Damon drew in a breath. So he had rebelled a little in the formal look, refusing to tuck in the shirt. It was something he'd always loathed, the idea of tucking in his shirt just made him feel too formal. And a part of Damon didn't want to be formal with Molly at all. Tossing a glance to the closet deep blue hues landed upon a black belt beaming at him from the mass of clothes. Releasing a breath Damon felt the dark thoughts once more crept up on him as he moved towards the belt before stopping himself. It would be so easy.. Nearly choking and fighting back the urge to run to the bathroom connected to their bedroom Damon closed his eyes, delicate lids closing over a deep blue that had once upon a time looked upon Molly with devotion. Once more opening his eyes with his thoughts in thin constraint he left their bedroom, his mind numbly wondering how the hell he would sleep next to her that night.

Coming down the steps and taking his time doing it he stopped in their living room that Molly had adorned with endearing knick-knacs and pictures from the life they'd built together. Hanging over the stone fire place on the mantle was their wedding photo, one that always used to stir such pride and emotion in him. Now Damon only saw what used to be. They were both so happy in the photo, Molly glowing and her hair slightly mussed from the kiss Damon had just given to her after their I do's. Approaching the mantle Damon reached a hand out, one slender finger reaching out to touch the photo and lost as to what had been, what should have been. Jerking back from the photo as if it had burned him Damon turned from the mantle covered in the happiness that had once existed and he approached the kitchen. He and Molly had been happy once, it felt like only a month ago they were planning out together what to paint the other two bedrooms in the house and what furniture should be purchased for their home. Now it was an empty place they both lived, together yet alone.

"Molly I.."

Damon stepped inside the kitchen stopping immediately to gaze upon the woman he had once loved and felt a burning ache well up inside of him. When he wasn't tempted to kill his wife he felt the need to be close to her, to once more hold her and not consider all the ways he could harm her. And she was so beautiful, blonde hair and soft eyes and a personality that could easily draw anyone in. Damon even had a soft spot for the rebellious tattoo she had on her body of the bird, it was as if it was a symbol of her freedom. And yet the angel in disguise had never halted when they'd married. Fighting back all the warning sides in his mind Damon approached Molly in a determined way, keeping an easy smile upon his lips as his arms opened and he moved to pull her into a warm embrace he desperately hoped would chase away all the demons clouding his mind. He loved Molly...

[Molly Roxann Hart]

The first time Molly had ever seen the house they now owned, it'd been completely empty of any sign life had ever inhabited the life. All the rooms were stripped bare of everything from furniture to window fixtures. The walls were all a dingy old white color, she'd been desperate to paint over since the moment she'd stepped into the house, the floors had creaked like an old mans bones, yet still when she walked threw the house Damon had found without her, she'd loved it. She felt the energy of it all, the walls that hummed with life, she imagined the sound of little feet on the stairs running around, it even had enough yard too have a dog if they so wanted. It'd been a family home, everything she'd ever wished for, it'd been a living thing in and of it's self.

Now when she walked threw the house, she felt none of that. There was no happy, glow of the sunlight pouring in threw the windows she refused to shut the blinds on. She'd stopped picturing her children running around the house, her and Damon growing together, now when she walked in the house she was filled with a silent cold. Like she was dying, over and over again, she could never be warm in the house. She felt like she lived in a museum, the house was cold and still with the two of them keeping as far apart as they could, there was no warmth. The little touches she'd filled the house with now felt fake and immature, she didn't plan for the future, the house seemed so posed like they were getting ready too sell it instead of here to stay. It seemed like a hotel sometimes, only even there would feel better with another heart beat close by, someone to stop her.

Blue eyes gazed searching outside the window into the backyard. She ignored the pain in her hands from clutching the sink so hard, it felt nothing compared to the empty hollowness inside of her chest when she looked out into the yard and saw nothing. Her eyes were no longer following those of the imaginings of small children playing out in the yard in the dying summer light, they could no longer find any sort of hope she had for her life. Instead her eyes stared out onto the swing she'd had Damon install it was hanging off one of the tree branches, it'd been her favorite touch about the house when they'd first gotten it. Now it hung still, not pushed around by legs, or wind, just frozen in it's place, as if it were imitating her own heart.

The creaking sound of the stairs told Molly Damon was coming down, she didn't turn to great him this time. A grimace painted across her lips, her eyes were no longer a summer sky blue, but seemed like something harsher, like a cold needling blue of ice that you could never warm up from. Her eyes dropped onto the red roses that were in bloom under her window, she'd been carefully taking care of those roses, for weeks and now her pay back, they were stunning large blooms with thick stalks. Her eyes quickly found the shears next to the roses, she'd left them their carelessly, now she thought of them, if they were in her hand right now she could end this all. Paint her roses the real red of her husbands blood.

"Molly I.." The sound of Damon's voice stopped Molly's thought. She stopped mentally painting their yard with children, and blood, and staid here, grounded into this moment with him. Damon was that for her. He was what kept her here, what made her want to stay in this moment and not drift away into her day dreams forever. He was everything she loved about the world, he was her calming force, he was safety and love. She reminded herself, of when she'd just loved him with nothing else, she'd been so happy all the time, waiting for him to be home, and waiting for him to hold her, every moment away had been spent thinking of him. Best of all, when something was wrong, he was her personal sedative, he could relax her like nothing else in the world knew how. Take all the tension from her body, and clear her mind of anything but him with a kiss that made everything not so bad because she had him. How could she think such a thing she questioned herself, biting her lip. She didn't turn to him as he entered the kitchen, her heart collapsing on itself, she felt like dying herself. She loved her husband more than anyone in the world, she couldn't imagine a life without him, yet she day dreamed about killing him. What type of person did that?

The closer Damon came, the tenser she got till it nearly hurt how tense she was. Turning her face she looked over him, he was in one of her favorite shirts, and this brought a quick smile on her face, but it was short lived as he held her. Fear grabbed her tight, and her eyes shut when his arms enclosed around her. A shallow breath filled here lungs, nearly making her shake as he held her. Molly attempted to enjoy the feeling of his touch, it wasn't skin to skin, he was wearing to much clothing for that, but he was still touching her. She reminded herself that in the spare moments when she hadn't been thinking about killing her husband, she'd missed him, missed this more than anything. The longer he held her, only a few seconds passing, her heart raced, but the fear slipped out from her veins, and logic kicked in. They were just thoughts and day dreams, she knew from the way her heart still pitter patted around him, they weren't her feelings, she still loved him, she loved him so much she didn't know what to do about it sometimes. Slowly she allowed herself to sink into the embrace, her head falling onto his shoulder, her arms coming around him to close the embrace and bring it full circle.

She didn't wretch away like her dreams might have painted this moment, she didn't feel sick, or dirty from his touch. She just felt whole. Complete in a way she hadn't felt in a very long time. 'I miss you' was on the tip of her tongue but she didn't say it, she felt it wouldn't make sense he didn't know where her mind had been, so far away from him for much too long. Closing her eyes, Molly knew she'd stay here as long as she could, she could endure the dreams, the nightmares, and everything else so long as she got this sometimes, as long as she remembered why, that she loved him. "I love you," the words came out in a whisper, her eyes shut tight as she kept leaning against him. Scared her voice would trigger something, they'd remember how they'd been for weeks now and would break apart and she'd be alone again.

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[Damon Quentin Hart]

Slow shudder spread down his lean form as she finally relaxed into his embrace, arms looping around him in response to his touch he felt a low breath release from his lungs, having barely realized that he'd been holding it in. Arms pulled her instinctively closer to him, chin dropping to rest his head just next to hers, small kiss placed upon the side of her head before offering her the solace of his arms. How well they fit together, her body a perfect mold to his form, small smile caressed his lips before breath was once more quickly drawn in.

"I love you." How long had he waited to hear those words come from her mouth? Damon had spent many hours contemplating her feelings towards them, the tensity between them clearly noticable to him. Not to forget the fact he had random thoughts about taking the life from her body. Pushing back the darkness Damon pulled back only slightly, steady hand raising to grasp her delicate chin gently.

"And I love you Molly Roxann Hart. Forever." Steady blues gazed into her eyes, his words spoken from somewhere inside him, a place that longed to touch her and protect her. Yet how could he ever protect her from himself? Before allowing dark thoughts to once more fill his mind Damon lowered his head, mouth moving towards her to kiss the woman he held in his arms that he had once wanted to give the world, and still did.

Mind silently begged her to kiss him back, not to let the feelings dissapate between them. Damon had loved her nearly from when he first met her and had always known she was the woman for him. Conflicting emotions rose but were once more tamped down. He wouldn't kill Molly, no matter how sick his thoughts were he couldn't possibly...right? Concerned for her own welfare had remained a top priority. Fingers threaded into her golden hair, lips still placed against hers, his remained unmoving, awaiting the response he desperately needed and wanted from her.

She'd spoken the words that she loved him, and Damon still found himself believing that. Molly was the only woman who'd ever been able to make his pulse accelerate and his breathing change. Was that ever worth going through? Could he ever leave Molly, if ever to protect her from himself? Thoughts drew to a close as his arm still secured around her waist tightened slightly, hoping that Molly would respond to him as she once had. And the nightmare they'd been living in would go away.