the downfall

Millicent’s pov

The first misfortune of the day starts at 3:17 a.m., with the sound of my Josh crying and coughing so hard that it echoes inside the thin walls of my mom’s old crib. I hop out of bed before I’m even fully awake, my feet hitting the cold floor, and my heart beating faster than it should. My fear is losing him, that’s what would shatter me especially now that Brian has already cracked me open.

When I reach josh, he’s curled up with his tiny hands on his chest, breathing too fast, his skin is moist, and his lips are pale. I’ve seen this too many times before.

“Oh my sweet baby boy, look at mommy,” I whisper, lifting him gently, his body feels lighter than it should, like he’s fading. I hold him, rubbing his back gently until the coughing eases, then I grab the emergency inhaler and pray it’s enough to soothe him even though it never is. It worked, his breathing slowly goes back to normal, and I spoon him for the rest of the night. Pouring kisses on him, before passing out.

By sunrise, I’m only on two hours of sleep, and my mom is already rummaging the kitchen cabinet for the bottle she hid behind the cereal box.

“Morning mom.” I whisper, audible enough that she can hear me but she doesn’t even look at me, I’m sure she heard Josh coughing last night but she doesn’t ask how he’s feeling, she just twists the cap open like she needs it more than I need her attention and help.

I pull Josh’s blanket tighter around him and head to the clinic for another checkup, another referral, another prescription all leading to another bill I can’t pay.

“Morning ma’am.” She greets like it’s not an option.

“Morning.” I say, plastering a smile even when she’s printing it out with a soft frown, like the kind adults use when they see a woman who’s drowning quietly.

“You can pay at the front desk,” she says gently.

My eyes shoot up as I catch a glimpse of how much it costs to get the essentials for Josh. “Yes, thank you.” I nod, I know I can’t, but I nod regardless.

The second tragedy arrives, but this time, it’s the studio. My last attempt to hold on to some version of myself. The building smells like dust and old memories. ‘Milli’s moments’ was the name mom insisted on when we opened it together. Business is slow enough to hurt, slow enough to starve. But I push along, anything to keep my only reason to live alive.

I take photos of newborns, children, teenagers, adults with shame and those without shame, weddings, graduation shoots and the pay barely covers Josh’s inhalers. My camera lens is old, scratched and sometimes it refuses to focus, kinda like me.

Between clients, I sit in the cramped office and stare at the stack of overdue bills. Electricity, rent, hospital charges, debt letters. Mom wasn’t even trying, and now I’m here, calculating my way out of this mess, but the math always ends the same:

I’m fucked and the worst part is the gossip from the small towns folks who love scandals the way vultures love carcasses. At the grocery store, I hear loud whispers behind the shelves.

“She walked in on them, you know, I heard her mom yapping about it in the bar.”

“Ria? her best friend.” The other asked, curious to know what happened.

“Brian always said Millicent was..what was the word, simple.”

“Poor thing. imagine losing your marriage and all your money.”

I keep my eyes on the canned beans and pretend it doesn’t sting, but it does, the words dig under my skin like glass splinters because nobody knows the truth and nobody wants to.

To the world, I’m the woman who wasn’t enough to keep her husband interested, the woman whose kid is always sick, and the woman who went from middle-class to a nobody in less than a week. Pathetic

When I return to the studio that evening, the sun is already dipping low, brushing the street in gold and I almost feel calm for a moment, until I see the paper taped to the door in thick red letters, bold with an official city stamp. My stomach drops before I even read it.

NOTICE OF DEMOLITION! PROPERTY PURCHASED! EVACUATION REQUIRED WITHIN 20 DAYS.

My hands shake so violently I can hear the paper rustle. I read it twice, three times and one more time, hoping the words will rearrange themselves into something that doesn’t feel like the universe spiting on my face. My studio, the only thing I built with my own hands, the only place where I still feel like Millicent and not a failure.

Someone bought the entire block, someone wants it all gone, and that someone really thinks they can take the last piece of me. My throat tightens and the street blurs up within minutes. The world shrinks into the size of that notice pinned on my door and every other door on the property. I can’t afford to make phone calls, or hire lawyers, and I don’t have enough time.

I fold the demolition notice and fling it aggressively on the floor, I’m breathing like I’m fighting for air, because I am, and this is the beginning of the end, I can feel it. The downfall isn’t happening in a single moment, it’s a slow collapse crumbling brick by brick, piece by piece, and today, the final brick is cracking. My helpless ass can feel it.