The story of Mrs. Sillow’s life seemed to be based upon Murphy’s Law; and in her heart she knew that her future with her oppressive husband would be just as morose as the years she had already painfully suffered under his iron-handed regime. But out of the blue one day, the emotionally-damaged vixen was visited by a life-changing epiphany. Lately, her mother had been haunting her from the watery grave in which she had been discarded. “You gave somebody the power to choose your destiny, a sure shot way to live in misery until the day you die.” Those words of wisdom that her mother had imparted unto her just minutes before she passed away were all that Mrs. Sillow had been hearing inside of her head in the wake of her husband’s unexpected retirement. And now, for the first time in her life, she was witnessing exactly what her mother had been talking about with her very own eyes. The enlightened new mother would be on the brink of tears every day as she watched her husband diligently work on manipulating little Sondra’s destiny from early on in her life. Mrs. Sillow would be damned if she was to let him control her daughter as if she were some sort of manufactured wooden puppet, though. She was resolute on not seeing the female progeny of her lineage be typecast as brainwashed, gullible, and dependent. At nightfall she would make her escape from the cottage with her baby girl. She didn’t know where they would be going; all she knew was that they had to leave.
After years and years of prostituting her body, Mrs. Sillow - at least Mr. Sillow - had amassed a fortune. Just lying around in the cottage’s basement were bales upon bales of dirty money. Some of the bills had been sitting around for so long that they had succumbed to rotting and were no longer spendable. Mrs. Sillow was going to steal some of that money that she had risked her life earning in order to provide for her and her child once they had made their break from the cottage and started living out their rogue lifestyle.
At present, it was shortly after 1:00 p.m. Mrs. Sillow had just gotten through squeezing her breast milk into a bottle, and her husband was now occupied with feeding the hungry child in the kitchen. This gave her the perfect window of time to grab a large bag of hers out of her and her husband’s bedroom, scramble down into the basement, and stuff the bag to the brim with money. She then carefully tiptoed back upstairs, dashed into the room, and hid the bag full of currency beneath the bed. Now, all that was left to do was wait on nightfall.
Mrs. Sillow had never been the type of person who was good at remaining composed when doing something that she knew she shouldn’t be doing. Making matters worse, time was crawling. It was only 3:00 p.m., and her husband, who knew his wife even better than her own parents had known her, could already tell that she was up to something based on the sudden change in her mannerism. But exactly what she was withholding from him was all that he could think about as he watched her roam around the house like a nervous, hyperactive child. Mrs. Sillow was about to be in some deep trouble.