Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Fifty-One:

I'm going off zero sleep. Eyes stinging with fatigue. How much alcohol can I drink for days straight before my liver starts to go out, and my brain turns to mush, and my body completely shuts down? How much more can I take from all this?

Done. He's done. Done with me.

He doesn't mean that. He can't. I have to prove to him that it's not me. I'm not the crazy one. I'm the victim of all this. He and I deserve to be together happily without Millie ruining everything.

He's scared of her; that's why he said those things last night. He's pretending.

As I pace in isolation, like a prisoner inside an asylum, my eyes hyper-focus on the flooring. Lines I hadn't noticed before. Dust accumulating after not vacuuming for days. I think of the warm summer day spent in the pool with Ellis and Beck. How good things were. The way he opened up to me. How his hands felt on me under the water. I wonder if that's when I fell in love with him. Maybe it was the moment I first saw him. When I first arrived for the interview, and I sat on their couch, taking it all in, sensing that this was my future but not knowing entirely what to expect, and then he walked in, and it was how I imagine a traveler must feel returning home after a long voyage. A comfort, a nostalgia, an ease that washes over you and warms your soul. Everything makes sense again. He was my destination.

When I looked at him, I saw everything I'd wanted. Everything I could be. I saw a house, love, security. I saw a hose coiled up on the side of the house, candles burning, as I welcomed him home from work. I saw sheets that we'd sleep under and blankets we'd pull around us as we put on a movie. I saw petty arguments, small bits of jealousy when we went out, and silly bickering over where to vacation and what restaurant to eat at.

The bad and good and everything in between, and I wanted it all. To me, it all seemed beautiful and worth it, and I still see it now when I look at him. It's so close. It's at my fingertips, but I can't fully grasp it, and I know it's because of her. The inconvenience. The woman between us that is preventing us from being happy.

I despise her. I hate her.

She thinks she's won. She thinks Ellis will continue to be her loyal, obedient husband, but she's wrong. I'm going to make Ellis see.

Lake was right. She must've been watching us the whole time. Recording us, ease-dropping, and spying when she claims she's at work. Has she ever even been going to work, or has that been a lie as well?

Pulling out my phone, I search for her name on Google with food critic at the end. Immediately, a Wikipedia page comes up. It talks about her journalistic pieces on restaurants in the area, along with her parents and wealthy family line. I pull up one of her articles from a popular website for the New England states. I search for any articles written by her. There're tons that go back to 2010. But only three from this year alone, and all of them were written before the month of April. When I started working here.

I find a phone number for the site and listen to it ring. A part of me feels like I already know the answer. But I need it confirmed. I need to know I'm not making all this up. That this doesn't live within my head.

A woman answers the phone with a dull hello. There's background noise from phones ringing and keyboards clicking. Like an office in the early 2000's.

"Hello, hi." I say quickly. "I was wondering if you could connect me to Millie Bythesea."

"Mrs. Bythesea no longer works for us."

My breathing halts. "Since when?" I ask.

"Mrs. Bythesea hasn't worked with us since April of this year."