Molly: Can I come over?

Me: Sure, but, um, be careful of Emma

Molly: Emma?

Me: My little sister

Molly: I didn't know you had a little sister

Me: She isn't out much, she's . . . different
Don't let her freak you out though

Molly: Okay :)

Molly: I'll be there in twenty

Me: see you then

I blush, sitting on my sofa in my vacant living room. I'd moved in a few months ago, but hadn't unpacked everything yet. The space was pretty clean, just a grey carpet and a sofa against the wall. To the left of the wall, behind my couch, is a hallway that leads to the rest of the house. In front of my sofa is a dining table, and in front of that a large window with a television set next to it. 

Molly had come to my new place before - in fact, she helped me unpack when I first moved in, even helped me carry this couch it. Molly... Molly's coming over. She's so... beautiful, you know? Most people would say plain, but sometimes minimalist is refined. Sometimes it's gorgeous. Sometimes it is unique. She has brown hair, I'd say medium brown, and it falls right above her shoulders. She has safe, brown eyes, and smile lines on her lips. She has brown skin and her raised, defined cheekbones are notable. She has a little heart tattoo on one of her cheekbones, I thought she got it as a trendy thing at first but she really loves it. She never really wears makeup, but when she does, she always finds a way to incorporate blue. Blue is her favorite color. Gah, and her personality! I think, smiling. She lives rent-free in my head.

When we decided she'd come over, in about fifteen minutes by now, my first thought was, Yes, Molly's coming over! Then it was, Wait . . . Molly's coming over.  I glance over at Creepy Little Girl as she sits on a box of books stationed by my couch, staring at me silently. Emma isn't her real name. I don't know her name. I call her Creepy Little Girl, but "Emma" is what I came up with when other people are around, since people - other than me - can see her.

I look at her attire. She looks the same as a few days ago. She has big, brown eyes that were infuriated, and hollow cheeks like she was hungry. She's skinny and small, no more than eight or nine--ten tops--years old. She has small lips, always shut. She wears her light brown hair in tight, braided pigtails, pulled on either side of her head to span across her scalp; they reached the middle of her shoulder blades, if that. She wears a flowy, but faded and crinkly white dress with red flowers and red ruffles in the very bottom, and a red belt across the stomach. The shoulders of the dress were puffy, like Snow White's.

Creepy Little Girl sits upright, staring at me with what seems like pure hatred, scanning my face and calculating the best way to kill. It uneases me every time; there is no "getting used to it." Something in me wants to run away, but something else in me tells me that this familiar experience posed no danger -- If she wanted to kill me, she would have by now. Though her eyes were angry, the rest of her face was emotionless. I tried picturing what she would look like if her muscles bent and angled themselves in a scrunched up anger, but it was nearly impossible to picture Creepy Little Girl as anything other than what she was. It was as if she was blocking my imagination when I thought about her sometimes.

I take a deep breath in, sucking in through my nose and letting it out fast through my mouth. She stands and continues staring. Silently, not even letting her footsteps make noise, she turns and walks around the box, down the hallway, to another room. My eyes follow her until they can't anymore, but I don't get up to follow. Her odd demeanor never begged me to follow.

Creepy little girl.

I forget about her for a moment, looking up at my blank off-white ceiling as I wait for Molly. Molly, a light pink blush spreads across my face, She always brightens my day.

However, today, I couldn't get Creepy Little Girl off of my mind. In the back of my head, she plagued my neurons. For some reason, even though she had walked away, I felt like she was still there. Sitting up, paranoid, I looked around the living room that I was alone in.

The creature that is supposed to be innocent in the shape of a child, the one with no name but I call Emma or Creepy Little Girl (and probably am not supposed to), drops something. I jump slightly, flinching. The thud came from down the hall, but I could hear it right next to me. With an eerie shake, I stand up, leaning forward over my couch to peer down the hallway. I take a deep breath.

She does this sometimes, but it scares me lately. Maybe it's because I don't expect it often. Walking around my couch and the box of books, I make my way through my house, trying to find her and whatever it was that she dropped. Peering through my windows, there's nothing outside but my front yard, backyard, neighboring houses, etc. Out of the corner of my eye every once in a while, a few dandelions blow in the wind.

I can't find Creepy Little Girl anywhere... not in my room, in the bathroom, or even behind lamps. So, I decide to go back to where I sit and wait for Molly. I exhale as I plop on the couch, staring at the front door now, and let Molly take over my thoughts yet again.

"Kody!" Molly smiles, opening her arms. We hug at the doorstep before I bring her inside, letting the door slam shut with a satisfying click of the lock.

I look at her brown hair that I love, watching as the light bounced off of it. It brought to my attention a glow she has, a happy aura that reminds me of the sun. Today she's wearing a purple tee under an orange leather jacket, and black yoga pants. I don't think any of it goes together, but she looks great in it. Her smile, especially, brings it all together in a way.

"Come sit," I offer, drawing her next to me on my sofa. It's white, a stark contrast to her yoga pants.

"Cozy," she compliments with cheer, sitting with her legs crossed. She slid her shoes off and placed them under the small dining table. We aren't touching, but our knees are close together.

"So, what's up?" I ask. I wanted to say, You're gorgeous today, but we're just friends. Just friends.

Her smile falters a little, "My parents are arguing again. It's so annoying. I just needed an escape."

The thing about Molly is she has big dreams and a lot of ambition, but she's stuck in this small town. She still lives with her parents and does online university courses, but she feels trapped a lot. She comes over to my place often; I guess that makes me happy, being the one place she can go to when she needs to feel alive again. When she needs to get unstuck.

Ironic, considering the creepy little girl that won't leave my house alone. Special, considering I'd only met Molly about six months ago. We'd grown so close, yet have so much to learn about each other.

I nod in response to what she shared, "Understandable, okay. You wanna watch a movie or something?"

"I'd like that," she agreed, her smile returning as I passed her the television remote.

The movie playing is Titanic, a boring classic that Molly could die for.

"You know, this is really romantic, if you think about," I mumble, turning my head to face her. I didn't say I didn't like it.

She replies, but doesn't turn her head from the film, "What, the movie?"

"Well, yeah," I nod. "That, and this. Us. Watching a movie together..." I feel my hand drifting towards hers, but I kept it steady on my lap, afraid she wouldn't reciprocate. I like her more than the movie, that's true.

She grins, showing her faded teeth in a lop-sided grin, "Guess so. Um, you know... " She finally turns to look at me. She seems to be getting closer, or am I? Our hands finally touch, and they grab each other harshly, interlocking like rock. Her other hand finds its way in the air, and as we look each other in the eyes, I think it falls into my hair. This is what friends do, I think, but I know better.

"Your eyes, brown... they're pretty," I mutter. I pictured her saying something about how muddy they look to her, but she kept quiet, looking back into mine. Before I even realize it, our lips are suddenly together and we're kissing. Our eyes are closed; I don't remember when they shut but they did, the picture of her stamped on my brain, and this is good. She moves a little closer.

"I like you," she draws away slightly to speak. I want to reply but I can't--not because we're kissing, but because we're not... She's staring at something behind me, looking confused, even a little afraid.

"What?" I croak, following the line of her sight. Creepy Little Girl is sitting directly behind me on the arm of the couch, staring. Her feet, shoeless but covered in dirty white knee-highs that looked almost vintage, resting on the cushion next to me.

"E-Emma," I stutter. "Molly and I are busy. Go play."

She sits for another moment, staring at me, before standing up and moving almost robotically off the couch and onto the floor, walking slowly with each step into the kitchen, the first door down the hallway. As she walks, she doesn't turn her head to look at us, just keeps an angry gaze ahead of her. She must be mad at everything, I think. She doesn't come out once she's behind our sight.

"Sorry about that," I mutter sheepishly, bringing Molly's eyes back to me.

"No, it's okay," she assures, glancing behind her at the wall that blocks the kitchen's view from where we are perched. I could guess she was nervous, but I hoped she remembered what I said, to not let Creepy Little Girl freak her out.

I slip my hand into her hair, and peck her lips quickly, trying to bring the mood back, "Let's go to my room and pick another movie. This one's almost over."

Molly agrees, grabbing my hand, pulling it from her cheek. She takes a deep breath and lets Emma's awkward appearance pass from her mind, "Yeah. Come on." Her smile is back, and I couldn't feel better.

But Creepy Little Girl... No. I'll let her be. She probably disappeared anyways.

Right now it's about Molly... and I.