Goldfish on the Mountain Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Back in her room, tied to her bed, Ashley was looking up at the ceiling thinking about the woman whose life was in danger. She knew she wasn’t a danger to anyone but she understood why they kept her restrained.

Ashley knew the doctor wasn’t getting her message but at the same time she couldn’t understand why the words weren’t coming to her. She searched the depths of her memory trying to remember Molly Goldfish. She knew the woman took her boyfriend that night at the fair. It didn’t matter though. Molly married George Thompson.

Ashley had no grudge against her, George moved on and so had she. In her mind she knew there had been a time she loved her husband. She still couldn’t believe he would abuse her daughter.

In the back of her mind she kept remembering the night her husband died. Ashley relayed the events in her head knowing something was wrong. She couldn’t figure it out but she knew something didn’t seem right. She kept replaying the night in her memories.

How she was tied to the chair, watching in despair, helplessly watching him brutalize her daughter right in front of her. The memory was foggy. She could hear him talking about Molly Goldfish during the entire ordeal. Then her memories began to swirl in her mind. There weren’t any clear images at this point. She could see, through the fog of her mind the bloody knife in her hands, she could see his dead body lying on the floor with his throat bleeding out. She could hear the cries of her baby who had just been through hell. She could feel the handcuffs tearing into her wrists.

Beyond that she couldn’t piece the rest together. In her mind she knew she killed her husband when he became deranged and began torturing his family. But as she looked deep into her memories she couldn’t see anything before that night, not clearly. Nothing except the image of Molly Goldfish sitting on that Ferris Wheel, her arm wrapped around the boy who had broken her heart that night.

Then, with tears filling her eyes, she closed her eyelids and drifted off into the nightmare she faced at the close of each day.

Published by

Stephanie Bri

A transgender writer who also does podcasts and videos. If you like my writing please consider helping me survive. You can support me directly by giving money to my paypal: If you prefer CashApp my handle is @Stephaniebri22. Also feel free to donate to my Patreon. I know it's largely podcast-centric but every little bit helps. Find it by going to, Thank you.