Molly stepped off the city bus onto the sidewalk, pausing to take a deep breath. She’d been out for a week and the newness of her freedom still hadn’t worn off. Of course, free wasn’t exactly the correct word for her current situation. Sure, she wasn’t behind bars anymore, but she definitely wasn’t able to do as she pleased. There were assigned chores to be done every day, and a strictly enforced curfew at the halfway house she now called home. Plus random checks for any signs of drug or alcohol use, and mandatory counseling sessions three times a week. Her life was almost as regimented as it was in prison, but the almost made all the difference.

Little things, like being able to leave after breakfast and chores and step out onto the street alone, meant the world to Molly now. Doing it completely sober was also an enlightening experience. She never realized how much living was happening around her when she’d been racing through her own life, always worried about the next party.

Kids going to school, birds chirping, the smell of freshly brewed coffee. It all brought home how much she’d missed over the four years before going to prison, when she’d slept until the afternoon and only saw what went on after most people were safely tucked into bed. That world was dark and mostly ugly, filled with sad people looking to escape from life, and mean people willing to show them the way. Her grandmother always said that nothing good happened after midnight, and Molly had laughed off her concerns. Now, looking back on the people she’d spent time with and the places they’d gone, she completely agreed.

Turning to the left, Molly headed towards her new home. The house wasn’t in the greatest of neighborhoods, but then parolees weren’t exactly welcome in the suburbs. On the border between downtown and the west side, the house was a former mansion that was turned into a boarding house in the seventies. The state bought it ten years ago at tax foreclosure and used it as a project for parolees in a construction training program. They’d gutted the place, tearing down water damaged plaster walls and ceilings, sanding the original hardwood floors to remove years of accumulated filth, and then they upgraded the electrical, plumbing and heating systems. New drywall and fixtures were installed, all donated from local companies. None of it was particularly fancy, but it was still the nicest place Molly had lived in a very long time, possibly ever. She had her own room and a large bathroom she shared with the three other women who also had rooms on the second floor. The old servant’s quarters in the attic now held four more bedrooms and another bath. The first floor had communal living space and a bedroom for their live-in supervisor, while the basement had offices for the counselors and a study room for the residents.

All in all, Molly couldn’t complain. She’d been lucky to get a spot so quickly due to the bad choices of her predecessor. Her caseworker at the prison had warned her it could take up to a month to find a spot, but that guard hadn’t been lying when he gave her that inside bit of info on the way back to her cell from the parole hearing. It only took two weeks for Molly to be on a bus, on her way downtown, staring wide eyed out the window like a child on her first field trip.

The only problem was that the house was one of the nicest on the block. More like the nicest thing on the block, Molly thought to herself as she scurried past the corner store. In her old life, she may have approached the group of young men loitering there, with an easy smile and a shake of her ass. Now she didn’t want to be anywhere near them. Not her idea of good time anymore. Or ever again.

It was unfortunate that the halfway house for recovering drug addicts sat right on the edge of one of the hottest sections of the city to find any kind of substance you wanted. The residents sometimes joked that it was the toughest halfway house around, but deep down, none of them found it funny. Just walking to and from the bus presented a daily challenge in resisting temptation, they said. Molly wasn’t tempted, yet, but the farther away from her prison time she got, the tougher it would be to resist. At least that’s what the counselors and other women she lived with said in group meetings and Molly had no reason to doubt them. No matter how determined she was to stay clean, and out of prison, she also knew she’d always have to fight to keep herself sober.

Not that the men paid her any attention, anyway. Other than a brief, cursory glance, they ignored her. Dressed in a cheap pair of dress pants, a blouse that was in style ten years ago, and horrid black shoes, Molly looked like a rundown shadow of her former self. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and her face was free of makeup. It was obvious she had no money, and she was dressed like someone twice her age. Still, even though they didn’t bother her, Molly hunched her shoulders, kept her head down and quickened her pace until she was several buildings away. The last thing she wanted to do was attract unwanted attention from the wrong kind of people.

Especially since today had gone so well.

She’d been offered a position in a therapist’s office, doing their billing and transcription. The prison mandated classes she’d been forced to take paid off, and Molly was offered the position on the spot. She started on Monday, working a normal, full time job for the first time in her life. At twenty-six, she finally felt like an adult. Or at least she would when she received her first pay check. Unfortunately, she had to give a quarter of it to the state to help defray the cost of her living accommodations, but what was left over would still be more money than she’d had for herself in years.

After passing a Chinese takeout restaurant and the second-hand thrift store where she’d purchased what she was currently wearing, the house finally appeared. She hurried down the walk and quickly entered her personal code into the alarm panel next to the door. Each resident and staff member had their own code, and had to enter it every time they entered and exited the building. This was both for security due to the neighborhood, but also to monitor everyone’s comings and goings. Either way, Molly didn’t mind. She liked knowing that no one could get in if they weren’t supposed to be there, and entering a code was easier than having to check in every time she arrived home.

Molly made sure the door shut behind her, and then slipped her feet out of the ugliest loafers she’d ever worn. Make that the only loafers she’d ever worn. But they were the only shoes in her size at the thrift store that matched the black pants she’d chosen. They’d only given her a hundred dollars, which she had to pay back, to pick out a whole new wardrobe. The only items from prison that were her own were the socks, underwear, and bras, so at least she didn’t have to buy those used, but until she started working and got paid, she had no other money. So the thrift store next door it was, and she had to make that hundred dollars stretch far.

Luckily, she’d scored some jeans and t-shirts that weren’t too awful, and a few pairs of pants and tops for work. She also picked up sneakers that weren’t worn too badly and a surprisingly cute dress and almost matching sandals. Clothes used up half her money and she still had to purchase all her toiletries and have enough bus fare to find a job, and then get to and from work until her first paycheck. Her roommates had cautioned her to be frugal since it could sometimes take weeks to find work, so Molly had forgone makeup and only bought what she truly needed—shampoo, conditioner, body wash, deodorant, tampons, toothpaste and a toothbrush. She allowed herself a slight splurge and bought the name brand stuff that came in scents they weren’t allowed to have in prison, but she passed on the eye shadow and lipstick. She didn’t need it, and she knew she’d want it all. Which would definitely suck up the last of her money.

Never, in a million years, had she ever thought that she’d end up wearing used clothes, someone else’s old shoes, without a speck of concealer or eyeliner on, riding a city bus. Even when she’d been at her worst she could always find someone to give her a ride wherever she needed to go, or give her money to go to the store to get what she needed. And if she didn’t have any money? Well, Molly knew how to give herself the old five finger discount. She wasn’t proud of it now, but back then it seemed like the perfect solution.

“Hey girlfriend! How’d it go?”

Molly straightened from picking up her shoes to carry upstairs and found Denise watching her expectantly.

“I got it!” Molly didn’t bother to try to hide her excitement. Denise was the resident counselor, which meant she lived with the women placed there and acted as their supervisor, mother, cheerleader, and disciplinarian, sometimes all at the same time. Even in the short week that Molly had been there, she’d found Denise to be a motivator, task master and shoulder to cry on, the last of which she’d needed the first few days.

“That’s so great, girlfriend!” Everyone was Denise’s girlfriend, but she was the type of person that you wanted to be friends with. “How much does it pay?”

“That’s the best part,” Molly cried, still in shock at the amount of money they were willing to pay an ex-con. “Sixteen dollars an hour!”

“See, all that hard work inside is paying off outside.” Denise ran the short length of the front hall, waving her arms as if she was riding a roller coaster, and swooped Molly up into a hug. “Didn’t I tell you it would be all right?”

“Yes, you did,” Molly mumbled into Denise’s ample chest. She didn’t bother fighting. She learned the first day that if Denise wanted to hug you, she would, and you just had to accept it. Molly, unused to open displays of affection, tried to shove her off when Denise embraced her as soon as she walked in the door, but Denise wouldn’t allow it, chastising her to “accept the love when it’s given.” Now Molly even hugged back, a little.

“You’ll be back in makeup and heels in no time, girlfriend. Just you wait and see.” Denise released her from the hug, but grabbed Molly’s hand and dragged her into the kitchen. “Come help with dinner and tell me all about it.”

Even though Molly desperately wanted to get out of her itchy, polyester pants, she dutifully followed Denise and told her every detail of the day. Down to how everything made her feel, even the guys outside the store on the walk home from the bus, even though Molly didn’t really mean to let all that out. Denise had a way of asking just the right question to get a person talking, without even realizing she was doing it, and that’s what made her an excellent counselor. That, and the fact that she’d spent time in prison for some of the same reasons the other women who lived there did, and she could understand all that they were going through. The fear, the anger, the depression; Denise had been through it all herself, and she told every new resident about her past within the first few hours of them being there. That way they knew she could relate to them, but more importantly that she knew every trick in the book and there was no point trying to get something past her eagle eyes.

Her method worked, for the most part. Molly’s prison counselor told her that eighty percent of the women who graduated from Denise’s halfway house hadn’t been back in trouble five years later. There were some, like the women who returned to prison a few weeks ago, that didn’t want to straighten out their lives, but Molly wasn’t one of those. She never wanted to go back to prison again, and if baring her soul to Denise, and being smothered by her boobs, helped keep Molly out of trouble, then she’d do it all.

Five of the women, plus Denise, were at dinner. The rest worked nights at various jobs, but everyone there was happy about Molly’s good fortune. Molly had been worried about people hearing how much money she was going to be making, expecting jealousy, but there wasn’t any. Some even offered to share some of their nicer clothes with her if she needed more outfits to get through the first two weeks before she received a paycheck.

Molly was still getting to know everyone, but so far had found all the other women pleasant and supportive. At least in front of Denise. Nobody had been mean to Molly, but she hadn’t really had a long conversation with any of them either. It seemed like the women on her floor pretty much kept to themselves and she hadn’t had any issues with them, though she’d definitely heard an argument coming from the third floor two nights ago. Fighting was prohibited among the residents. They were supposed to address any issues over breakfast or dinner, but arguing really was to be expected in a house full of women. The next morning no one mentioned it over breakfast, so Molly kept her head down and mouth shut, just like in prison. She assumed it was over something petty or stupid, like someone took too long in the bathroom, or used someone else’s shampoo without asking.

Oh, how her personality had changed in just a year and a half. Where she used to be loud and brash, Molly now kept to herself. She generally didn’t speak unless spoken to, and then only gave brief responses. The only person she’d let get close to her was Dani, and that was only because Dani was too nice to say no to for very long. She’d opened up to Denise because she knew Denise would be the one to help her move on with her life. But the rest of the women here? Molly wasn’t sure if any of them were worth sharing her private pain with.

The first two weeks of work flew by before Molly even realized it. The training was intense since the office used a more up to date version of the computer program than what Molly trained on while in prison. Just getting ready for work every morning and getting out of the house on time was a new experience.

Getting out of bed on time wasn’t a problem since she’d been up before dawn every day in prison. Being in charge of her own time without someone barking orders at her took some getting used to. The third day she almost missed the bus because her fifteen-minute shower stretched into forty-five, without Molly even noticing. It was just so relaxing and warm that she completely lost track of time. It seemed so ridiculous that, at her age, she was struggling with getting to work on time, but she’d never had a regular day job before. Her parents never forced her to get up and go to high school either. When Denise said that the program would help Molly gain life skills, she’d never expected that it would be something so basic.

Payday finally came, and Molly was astonished at the amount of money in her check. She wanted to cash it and go out on a spending spree. New clothes and shoes, makeup, maybe a manicure and pedicure! Instead of giving in and blowing every cent she made, Molly forced herself to put more than half of her money in a newly opened savings account and only kept enough to pay the program, plus bus fare and a small amount of spending money. She struggled with her decision the whole twenty minutes she waited in line at the bank, knowing it was the right thing to do but sorely tempted to have a free for all. When the money was finally deposited she breathed a sigh of relief, and hurried back to work before she could change her mind.

That night at dinner the women gathered were louder than normal, Molly included. Friday nights were usually a little crazy after the long work week but normally Molly sat back and observed. With a little money in her pocket, and more in the bank, she relaxed a bit, confident she was getting the hang of her new life.

“Hey Molls, you get paid today?” Lisa asked from Molly’s left, around a mouthful of homemade macaroni and cheese. Lisa lived on the third floor and Molly didn’t know her at all. It seemed odd to her when Lisa took a seat right next to Molly, but she hadn’t commented at the time since nobody had assigned seats or anything.

“Yeah, how about you?” Molly replied, not knowing where Lisa was going with her question but suspecting it was nowhere good.

“There ain’t hardly nothin left after I pay child support to my ex and pay for this place,” Lisa responded with a calculating gleam in her eye. “How ‘bout you loan me some money til next payday?”

Molly glanced at Denise to see if she would intervene, but found her talking to the woman next to her, also a resident of the third floor. Molly suspected this was a set up in order to shake her down for cash. She’d never been more thankful that she’d put that money in the bank.

“I don’t have enough to lend any to you,” Molly said, bracing for a fight.

“That’s bullshit!” Lisa cried, getting the attention of everyone at the table. She looked so surprised at Molly’s refusal that she had obviously assumed Molly would just hand over her money. “You make double what I make. No way you spent it all on the way home from work. Hand it over!”

Molly sat frozen when Lisa stood up, sending her chair crashing to the floor behind her, and loomed over Molly’s head. The woman outweighed her by fifty pounds and had at least four inches on her in height. Not to mention Molly really didn’t want to get kicked out after two weeks for fighting. Hopefully Denise will step in soon and put an end to this crap, Molly thought, as she watched Lisa’s face turn purple with anger when she refused to comply.

A string of obscenities poured out of Lisa’s mouth as she pulled back her arm and Molly prepared to duck under the table to get away, though she wasn’t going to move a muscle until the last possible second. Right when she was about to push herself back from the table to dive underneath, Denise appeared behind Lisa and twisted her away from Molly and into the wall behind them.

“Cut that out right now, Lisa! You want to go back to prison tonight?” Denise yelled, struggling to keep the other woman under control.

Lisa finally stopped ranting at Molly, and calmed down enough for Denise to let go.

“What’s the matter with you?” Denise demanded. “You can’t just go around shaking people down for their money. You know that’s wrong, girl.”

Molly watched their exchange closely, ready to make a move if it looked like Lisa was going to come for her again. She didn’t think Denise lecturing would really do any good, but to her surprise, it seemed like it was working. Lisa appeared to be ashamed of her behavior, or else she was a really good actress.

“I know, Denise. I don’t know what came over me.” Lisa hung her head like a naughty child being scolded by a teacher.

“You best apologize to Molly right now,” Denise instructed. “And I have to put this in your file. You need to get control of yourself. Just because you think it in your head doesn’t mean you can do it in real life.”

Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but made sure to keep her thoughts off of her face. Sure she’d been like that when she was high, or trying to get high, but now that she was sober she knew right from wrong. Unless…

“I’m sorry, Molly,” Lisa said, interrupting Molly’s train of thought.

“I accept your apology, Lisa,” Molly replied, because what else could she say? Certainly not ‘you’re nuts, stay away from me’? “No hard feelings,” Molly added, in a small effort to keep the peace. However, if what she suspected was going on with Lisa was actually happening, words would have little effect on her.

“Thanks Molly, I won’t bother you again!” Lisa smiled and sat back down to finish dinner, in the seat next to Molly, like nothing ever happened. Molly forced herself to do the same, but not before sneaking a glance around the table. The other woman from Lisa’s floor was eating her dinner like normal, but everyone else was looking around and appeared either nervous or angry. Denise was watching Lisa with a curious look in her eye, like she was working on figuring out the problem. Molly just hoped she caught on before it was too late.

Unfortunately for everyone, it took another month for the truth to come out, and when it finally did, it was in the most horrible way.