Chapter Text
"Thank you for waiting. Your Pokémon are fully healed. We hope to see you again." The thirteen year old said listlessly as she handed a tray of Pokéballs to a boy around her age.
"You sound so bored. Perk up!" Her older sister Amie scolded.
"I am bored."
"Well try not to sound so in front of the customers, Mollie."
"They aren't paying anything. Are they really customers?"
"Doesn't matter. You need to be nicer."
Mollie continued her shift with the same listlessness as before.
A few hours later, when it was time for her to go home, she put down the tray and walked to the locker room to get her things. As she was hanging up her jacket, she heard a voice behind her.
"Mollie?"
She turned. "Yes, mom?"
"I heard from one of your sisters that you said you were bored and were acting unwelcoming to our customers."
"I wasn't being rude." The young teen crossed her arms.
"That isn't how it came across, and more importantly, why would you say you are bored?"
"Well what happens if I don't want to be a Pokémon doctor? Would you let me go be a chef or mechanic or something?"
"Of course not. We are Pokémon doctors and that is our family's role."
"Fine." Mollie said as she turned away. "I'm going home."
She didn't go home quite yet. She decided to head through Woody Park, kicking a stone as she walked.
She didn't want to be a chef or a mechanic, but she wanted something more than this. And why couldn't she be one if she so desired? She kicked the rock into a tree before noticing something beside it.
She ran over and crouched beside something she recognized as a furret. It was covered in scratches and whimpered weakly. The young girl knew it needed medical attention.
"Hey, come here. I'm not going to hurt you." She whispered as she inched her hands closer to it until they made connection. The furret flinched for a moment but didn't pull away, and Mollie started to pet it.
She knew her only option was to take it to a Pokémon center, so she gently pulled it into her lap before scooping it up in her arms and carrying it out of the park and back to the center.
She ran into the Pokémon center after a kind woman held the door open for her and ran up to where her mom and sister Julie were standing.
"Mom, Julie, I was in Woody Park and I found this injured furret! Could you help me heal it please?"
"I'll take it. Don't worry, it should be just fine." Julie scooped up the injured Pokémon and held it against her as she carried it to the back.
"You know the Pokémon center isn't really meant for wild Pokémon."
"But it needed help! How else was it going to get it?"
Her mom didn't know the answer so she changed the subject. "What were you doing in Woody Park after dark anyways? You said you were headed home. Did you lie to me, Mollie?"
"I just changed my mind! And isn't it good that I went there? I found Furret and could help it! So many wild Pokémon get injured and can't get help! Isn't it my duty to help Pokémon? Even if it means not working at the Pokémon center?"
"When Julie comes back, return Furret to where you found it and go home. I am at work and cannot have this discussion with you, but believe me, we will have a discussion in the morning."
"Fine." The teenager crossed her arms and stormed over to one of the benches where she waited until Julie called her name.
"Here it is. Little guy's all better. It's so cute, isn't it!" Her older sister fawned. Julie turned her head. "Don't tell Mom, but bringing it in was totally the right choice. Next time either go in through the back and heal the Pokémon yourself, or come find me if the injury is too complicated."
Mollie smiled. "Thank you." Two years was the difference between the sisters, and while it didn't seem like much, it meant Julie had quite a bit more experience than Mollie.
Mollie carried Furret back to where she found it, scratched it's head, and wished it well before turning back and walking home.
She threw herself onto her bed and curled up on herself. There was nothing to do. She was hopeless and trapped and there was barely a thing she could do that wasn't monitored by the family.
However she did know where the lighter was, and how easily accessible it was. She tried to fight back the impulses, but found herself itching more and more for the lighter. The unpredictability of the fire. The pain of the burns that would be entirely her own doing. The secret. The danger. The freedom and the pain.
And that is how Mollie found herself sitting on the floor of the shower, clutching her left wrist and it's large white burn as the lighter lay on the floor beside her. How bad it was to do so, yet how little she cared.