Moira packed each picture away carefully. Eventually Levee Harolds family would want some things but boxes of wedding pictures featuring his soon to be missing widow? Those weren’t likely to be the best souvenirs of his life. There would be some story about sweet Moira Harolds spinning out of control in the wake of her husband’s death, perhaps she would disappear to begin another life. Those were details that the former Mrs. Harolds didn’t have to bother with.
No, the only concern Moira had was packing boxes that would be eventually picked up by someone and her new packet of papers.
Moira ran a thumb over a silver and gold frame holding a particularly stereotypical wedding shot of her and her now deceased husband. When she looked at it through the eyes of her new persona, one Vera Milguy, she felt little. There was perhaps a twinge of sadness for the former Mrs. Harolds, after all Vera Milguy wasn’t a complete monster.
Beyond that though there was something else brewing. A feeling that neither Moira nor Vera could quite place. A deep unsettling sadness was threatening to take hold.
“Maybe it’s better to set these to the side for now.” The woman dropped the frame back onto the soft carpeted floor and stretched. The former Mrs. Harolds had been quite sentimental. It made sorting through things a chore. None the less it was something that had to be done in some capacity. She smiled to herself as she thought of the guidebook. People would shit themselves if they knew there was a guidebook.
Crossing the room she surveyed the few things left on the walls. Two large paintings, a collection of ornate masks and a rather decorative full length mirror. The former Mrs. Harolds had fine tastes, perhaps Vera could learn a thing or two from her. She turned in front of the mirror letting her black skirt swirl around her waist.
For a second she caught sight of herself, giggling like a child as her curls bounced around her shoulders. Without warning that deep unsettling grief leapt from the darkness and took hold of the woman.
She struggled to understand who stared back at her from the mirror. Was it the former Mrs. Harolds? Her new prospect Vera Milguy? Perhaps it was any one of the many others.
No, the blue eyes swimming in tears reached even further back. Her lips twitched and trembled as the sobs threatened to overflow. There was no longer a woman crying in her reflection but a child, the timid and shy Millie.
Without thinking she lifted a finger to her lips and bit it gently, it did little calm her but the pressure satisfied a nervous tick Millie had nursed since she was a toddler. Sweet Millie was filling with sorrow over the passing of Mr. Harolds. She was filled with fear over the path life was taking. The small timid Millie wanted to run home and cry in her mother’s arms.
“No.” It wasn’t the former Mrs. Harolds or Vera who spoke. “No!” Millie, a grown woman now, stared at herself with fists clenched. “Millie’s gone! Do you hear me! She died with her love when her father shot him the head!”
With force that surprised every persona she’d ever taken on, Millie slammed her fist into the delicate glass sending shards flying around her. The cracking and crashing echoed through the hallways followed by the clip of Vera Milguy’s high heels. Blood dripped from her bruised knuckles as she slammed the front door behind her.
“It’s better this way.”