The Wretched Soul: The Tale of Molly from York
Molly grew like weeds by the roadside—unwanted, untamed. No one raised her with care, spoiled her, or showed her tenderness. Her clothes were hand-me-downs, sometimes mere rags through which her bony knees poked. Her shoes were always too big, full of holes. Her mother chopped her hair in a blunt bowl cut to avoid the bother of styling it, yet the strands stuck out in rebellion against the world’s indifference.
She never saw the inside of a nursery—her parents hadn’t the time for her. All that mattered to them was where the next drink came from. Her father, a brutal drunk; her mother, Betty, forever shrouded in cigarette smoke and hangovers. Molly hid in stairwells when they turned violent. Running meant escaping bruises—if she wasn’t fast enough, she’d cover them later. The neighbours sighed and shook their heads: Betty had always been flighty, they muttered, and after taking up with that no-good thief, she was lost entirely. They pitied Molly, fed her scraps, brought her clothes—only for her mother to pawn them for gin. So the girl remained in tatters.
When school came, Molly clung to learning like a lifeline. Books became her refuge—a world where no one struck her, screamed, or shamed her. She read voraciously, haunted the library, raised her hand in class, her quiet but steady voice hoping to be heard.
Yet children are cruel, especially to those who stand apart. Poor, odd, with that ridiculous haircut, she was quickly branded “The Wretch.” Worse still, parents forbade their children from befriending her—”the drunkard’s daughter,” they warned, “nothing but trouble.” The teachers, though they saw her promise, stayed silent. Easier to look away than defend a girl with no family or influence. So Molly grew, alone against the world.
Her salvation was an ancient oak in the park by the pond. Beneath its branches, she built a sanctuary. Here, she brought her books, dreamed, even slept when home grew unbearable. Only stray dogs and cats listened—the only ones who never betrayed her.
Her father died when she was fourteen, frozen in a snowdrift after another binge. Only Betty and Molly stood at the graveside. The girl felt no grief, only shame and relief. After that, her mother spiralled completely—rages gave way to stupors. Work was long forgotten. To survive, Molly scrubbed stairwells for pennies, buying secondhand medical books. She dreamed of becoming a doctor—of pulling her mother back from the abyss.
But school remained a torment. One day, late for class, she dropped a psychiatry text—right in front of Regina, the golden girl, the viper of the year. Regina snatched it up, read the title, and announced loudly:
“Oho, psychiatry! So you’re not just a wretch—you’re mad, like your mother!”
Molly couldn’t bear it. She fled the classroom in tears, sprinting across the yard to her oak. There, collapsing into the snow, she sobbed. “Why are they so cruel? What have I done?” she whispered, pressing her face to the bark.
Then she saw the dog. It had wandered onto the thin ice of the pond—and plunged through. Molly screamed and ran, throwing herself onto the ice, crawling toward it. She grabbed the animal—just as the ice gave way beneath her. The cold punched through her chest, stealing her breath. She fought—for the dog, for herself, for everything she’d ever loved.
When her strength was nearly gone, when the ice felt like a coffin lid—someone pulled her out. It was William, the new boy, recently transferred from Leeds. Handsome, sharp, reserved. The girls swooned over him. Yet he reached for Molly.
“Come. You’ll freeze. My mother’s a physician—she’ll help.”
He took the dog too. Sheltered them both. The next day, he walked into class beside Molly. Regina gaped.
“You’re serious? She’s a wretch!”
“Only the soul can be wretched,” he replied coolly. “No dress or powder can hide it. The more you try, the clearer it shows.”
Regina paled and fled. The room fell silent. And for the first time, Molly didn’t feel alone. She had a friend now. And Bonnie, the dog she’d saved. Most of all—a chance. A chance at a new life.
