Millicent "Millie" Whitley had always been a perfectionist, from as soon she could talk to now. She would be the one child who would spend hours on a self-portrait, refusing to make a mistake. As the years passed, that side of her quelled a bit, but she still was on the honor-roll, had a 4.0 GPA, and had been offered scholarships to Yale, Harvard, and M.I.T. when she was still a junior. After much turmoil, self-evaluation, and research, Millicent decided against accepting the scholarships. Instead, she bewildered her co-workers, friends, and teachers, and parents, by applying for acceptance into the University of Phoenix, her reasoning being: "I've always seen hurt people, becuase no one is there to defend them. There are plenty of rich scientists, lawyers, and engineers." Her parents were absolutely enraged. They threatened to kick her out if she did not withdraw her application.
Being as hard-headed as she was, she found herself on the streets before completing her senior year. She was struggling with school, a job, and desperately searching for a place to stay. A friend knew a guy who was offering to rent out a room, and she accepted with open arms. The situation worked out great. Millicent had a place to stay, and was on her way to becoming a law-enforcer. However problems, as they always do, arose. She was soon pregnant by her landlord as she finished her final year of high school. The man kicked her out, and seeing no other option, Millicent aborted the fetus.
Millicent had expected criminal justice to be hard, but not on the scale that hit her like a freight train. After six years of regret, constant studying, stressing over tests, and living crappy paycheck to crappy paycheck, she emerged with a major degree in Criminal Justice.
It's been a mere two years since then, and she's become a senior detective.
"Not that it's much more than a freaking title..." she grumbled to herself, glancing at the clock on her Nokia. She was going to be late... again. She hated to keep her partner waiting, but that's what happened. The doughnut place was right around the corner, and hopefully he wouldn't realize how late she actually was. She entered the shop, and spotted him immediately. Not that he stuck out, but when you work with someone for a year, you get to know 'em. She slid into the booth, facing him. "Sorry I'm late..." she said. Noticing the pastries, she decided against having one. But her stomach quickly won the battle, and she picked up a doughnut, biting into the treat, soft elevator music filling the shop.