Lily Molly NovelThe Girl She Baked

I loved cake.
Every day, Dad would bring a small slice home for me after work.

Mom, on the other hand, bought a brand-new stand mixer, baking pans, a whole arsenal of tools, and patiently taught herself how to bake for me.

I used to think I was the luckiest girl in the world.

Then came the day my parents got divorced, and the woman who came to pick up my father was the owner of the bakery.

My mothers head snapped toward me, her eyes bloodshot.

This is your fault! If you hadnt been so obsessed with that damned cake, your father never would have met her!

She held out her hands, the backs of them a roadmap of pale, puckered scars from the oven racks. Her voice was a hysterical shriek.

I burned these hands for you, trying to make you happy! But it was never good enough, was it? You both just had to have what was out there!

The metal edge of a baking sheet slammed into my back. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.

That night, Mom brought another little girl home.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in my back, I knelt on the floor and begged for my mothers forgiveness.

Mommy, Im sorry. Please dont send me away! Ill never eat cake again, I promise!

She slapped me, once, twice, three times across the face. Still not satisfied, she dragged me to the kitchen and shoved me into our large, walk-in oven.

Dont you call me that. Im not your mother!

You love cake so much? Then you can stay in here and think about what youve done! You and your worthless, cheating father both deserve to die!

The heavy door slammed shut. A moment later, the little girl skipped into the kitchen. She peered through the glass, a triumphant little smirk on her face, and her small finger confidently pressed the On button.

From now on, she chirped, your mommy is my mommy.

The oven hummed to life, a low, predatory sound. The air began to shimmer with heat.

And I smiled.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe now, Mom could finally be happy.

1

Inside the oven, heat pressed in from all sides.

The metal walls glowed with it, searing like a fire.

I pounded on the thick glass door, my palms turning a painful, angry red.

Mommy! Lily knows she was wrong!

Help me! Im so hot! I want to get out!

Sobbing, I stumbled and my arm brushed against the interior wall. A white-hot lance of pain made me snatch it back.

Molly pressed her face close to the glass, her expression smug.

You were always bragging at school about your perfect mommy. Well, look now. Your mommy doesnt want you anymore.

Shes only going to buy dresses for me from now on. Shes only going to love me.

No, Mommy is mine

I cried until my throat was raw and my voice was just a rasp.

Sweat and tears hit the hot floor of the oven, vanishing instantly with a sharp hiss.

Molly watched me, a delighted smile spreading across her face, before she turned and ran out of the kitchen.

I could hear her voice from the living room.

Mommy, Lily is saying bad things about you in the oven! She said if you dont let her out right now, shes going to find the bakery lady and make her her new mommy!

No, Lily didnt say that.

Mommy, please dont believe her!

But a second later, I heard my mothers voice, sharp with rage.

She can stay in there as long as she wants! God, shes so spoiled!

Come on, Molly. Mommy will take you to buy a new dress.

Slam.

The front door closed, leaving only the low hum of the oven.

It was so hot. Everything was hot.

So hot that my hands and feet felt like they were on fire.

The little gold heart charm on the bracelet Mom and Dad gave me for my first birthday was starting to burn my wrist.

Mom said if I wore it, I would always be safe and sound.

It was too hot. I wanted to take it off, but my fingers froze.

I couldnt.

It was my fault Mom and Dad were apart.

If I took off their gift, Mom would be even sadder.

I curled into a ball, my head spinning.

Mommy, why arent you coming to save me?

Mommy, do you really not want Lily anymore? I miss you so much

I clenched my body tight, the world fading into a dark, roaring haze.

Mommy, Lily will be a good girl from now on.



When I opened my eyes again, I was floating, weightless, in the living room.

From the kitchen, the big oven was silent.

The glass door was smudged with dirty little handprints.

I drifted closer and peered inside. There was a small, dark shape curled up on the rack.

Was that me?

Just then, Mollys excited voice came from my bedroom.

Mommy, is this pretty room going to be mine now?

And all the little dresses in the closet, can I wear them?

My mother glanced instinctively toward the kitchen, her brow furrowing for a split second.

But just as quickly, the moment passed. She turned back to Molly, her face arranged into the same gentle smile she used to give me.

Of course, sweetheart. Everything in this house is yours now. Anything you want, you just tell Mommy.

Mollys face lit up with the pure, unadulterated triumph of a victor. It was quickly replaced by a mask of concern.

But what about Lily? Wont she be mad?

The smile on my mothers face froze, then curdled into disgust.

She snorted. What right does she have to be mad? Staying in there this long shes just learned how to throw a tantrum.

Are you hungry, Molly? Mommy bought you something good to eat.

Mom led Molly to the dining table, laughing and talking as they sat down.

All the while, no one went to the kitchen. No one opened the oven door to take a look.

The table was covered with steaming containers of pasta and garlic bread.

But my gaze was pulled, irresistibly, to a small strawberry cupcake sitting at the corner of the table.

A strawberry cupcake!

My favorite. Mom used to always buy them for me.

A tiny, fragile flicker of hope ignited inside me.

Did did Mom buy that for me?

Maybe she wasnt angry anymore.

Just then, Molly, after taking a large bite of pasta, noticed the cupcake too.

2

She immediately started whining, tugging on my mothers arm. Mommy, Molly wants that strawberry cupcake, too!

My mothers hand froze mid-air. Her voice was stiff, laced with some kind of internal struggle.

That cupcake is

Her words trailed off, as if a hand were squeezing her throat.