Lifting her head off her knees, Millie blinks into the darkness. The garage is nearly pitch black—only a small task light glows in a small section of the room, casting dark, eerie shadows along the adjoining walls. Her pulse races, unsure of where she is or how she got here.
She nervously scans her surroundings to find familiarity diminishing her fear. She first sees the workbench her late husband often tinkered around on. She then notices the boxes of clothes she intends to donate; neatly stacked Christmas decor sits on the opposite wall.
A smile plays on her lips as she recalls her and Steve toting the oversized boxes into the house; she was wrapped in garland, and he was covered head to toe in silvery tinsel. A sense of warmth flickers throughout her body. Her happiness quickly turns into despair when she recalls what the sergeant had said. Her stomach balls into a knot. How could you cheat on me, Steve? How, raising a second family on the opposite side of the state?
Millie thinks back to when they met. He was an immature freshman trying to find his way, and she was finishing nursing school, something his oldest brother Marty didn't support. Unlike Steve, Marty thought his wife's place should be in the home, something Marty sprung on her on their wedding night. Millie soon discovers their marriage was the biggest mistake of her life.
"I don't know what to do, Steve, I don't," she cries, collapsing in his arms. She always seemed to find comfort there.
"I'll explain to him how important your nursing career is to you. Why saving lives is vital to you." He promises. She tells Steve about the wreck that destroyed her family and how nursing is the only career choice that makes sense to her now and that it's her way of protecting others from suffering the way she has.
"I've tried, Steve; believe me, I've tried."
A few days later, Marty was found floating in their pool.
Rumors quickly spread like an unmanageable wildfire throughout the town. The gossipers were conspiratists, mostly, with a few bored housewives whispering about her and Steve's supposed affair.
Millie and Steve became the two main suspects. questioned over and over about their shaky alibis. The prosecutor tried to convict on circumstantial evidence. To their relief, they both were acquitted.
Finding solace in the other's arms, Steve and Millie married two years later. Believing every nasty rumor circulating through town, Steve's parents decided they want nothing more to do with either of them.
"It's us against the world, sweetheart," Steve would often say in his Humphrey Bogart voice, and it often felt like that thanks to reporters who often dredge up the past hoping to make a quick buck. Of course Marty's fame as an Olympic gold medalist only managed to heighten the story's interest more.
We were so crazy in love back then, Millie thinks, recalling all the fun times she and Steve shared.
Millie then recalls his willowy, picture-perfect twenty-something fiancee with her hair and makeup styled just so and her nails freshly done. I looked like that once upon a time, she thinks. Eyeing her softening waistline, she recalls back in the day when she was the envy of all the women in town. I wish I was that way again. Her once thin, stylish figure has gained a few extra pounds, and her latest fashion has become t-shirts and baggy sweats. I'd trade myself in for her too, she solemnly thinks.
Sliding up the cold concrete wall, she steadies herself before gazing at her surroundings again to find it's nearly ten. She then recalls it was just a little before two when her friend, Jake, pulled away. Millie then thinks back to the numerous times this happened the past few days. Her throat tightens, making it difficult to breathe. What's going on with me that would make me pass out like that?
Stressors from the past few years suddenly come to mind. Steve's father's unexpected death, followed by her friend's unexplained demise, being the prime suspect in a murder investigation, her supposed friends' disparaging remarks, finding out that who she believed to be her soulmate has a second family living across the states, and the intrusions and bloody packages they left behind. "I've been through a lot, too much," she thinks.
Stepping through the interior door, Millie flips on the light and discovers her kitchen is in complete disarray. Her breath catches again as she continues to eye the mess. Two food-filled pans sit side by side on the stove. Her meager assortment of spices is aligned across the top of the brown marble counter. I'd never leave my kitchen like this.
She then recalls how distracted she was over what she'd found in her bed. Millie then sees the numerous projects she started but never did finish: the glass cleaner on the counter, the feather duster on Steve's dark oak desk, and the unfolded laundry waiting for her in the den. All the while, she's constantly worrying that the cops will show up at her door again. Maybe I did.
She's picking up the mess when a cold realization suddenly occurs to her. Her knees buckle, causing her to collapse into a chair. Her face loses all color when she gasps. The memory loss has happened to me in the past.
The doctor first claims it was the result of what she's experienced over the course of the last year. He prescribed a stronger medication. The loss of time only seemed to be worsening. She was committed to an asylum soon after. What started out as a few months of treatment quickly turned into a year.
She then recalls the numerous treatments she was forced to endure and the horrific side effects after. Millie's childhood trauma resurfaces. Clenching her fists at her side, with a determined look on her face, she says, "I won't go through that again. I won't. I won't." Millie then recalls her aunt's reasoning for having her committed.
Taking Millie's hands in hers, tears fill Martha's eyes when she says, "You're acting strange, Millie, homicidal, and I'm in fear of your safety as well as ours."
Millie doesn't recall any of the things her aunt claims she'd supposedly done. Memories of her horrific childhood return again. "Oh please, not now, not again.