A bit of an experimental format. What do you think?...

Part 1

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Martha stood in the lavishly decorated ballroom, her hands trembling as she clutched the small black purse as she again looked at her reflection at the big mirror on the wall. Soft murmur of conversation from the elegantly dressed guests around her felt like a distant echo, disconnected from the reality she knew, or thought she knew.

"Why am I dressed like this?" she murmured to herself, her voice trembling with disbelief. "This isn’t me… this isn’t who I am. I was… I was someone else…" this thoughts from time to time came into her mind and she again felt herself as if she was some other person, not the quiet, obedient wife who she knew, or thought she knew, herself to be.

But who was she? Some other woman from another life? Or maybe even a man? 'A man... me as a man? A male leader of time travel... team' she laughed to herself, "No, I would have known it," she said. "I am definitely a woman and definitely not a leader of some weird thing that I'm imagining!"

She laughed quietly at herself. 'What a ridiculous imagination you have, Martha', she thought as she looked again at her reflection in the mirror and adjusted her hair, then froze as if she suddenly realized something. "I need to get out of here," she whispered to herself, the panic rising in her voice. "I need to find a way back... back to where? Back to when? Dammit, why can’t I remember anything?" she said, her hands gripping at her head, "I am losing my mind..."

"My dear," her husband's voice broke her from her reverie. "Come now, you should mingle with the other guests," he said, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder.

"Yes, dear, you are right," she replied quietly, a small smile appearing on her lips as usual - she knew how to play the part of the perfect wife. But as she allowed herself to be guided into the crowd of guests, the confusion in her mind began to grow once more. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the laughter and chatter of the guests turning into a meaningless babble that she couldn't make sense of. Like if she was underwater, looking up through a thick glass at all the happy people enjoying their evening, but unable to join them.

"Martha," Edward's voice pulled her back again, but this time it sounded distant, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. "Are you all right, my dear?" He gently turned her to face him, his concerned expression only serving to deepen her panic.

"I… I need to leave," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t stay here, Edward. Something’s wrong… something’s terribly wrong."

Edward's brow furrowed, his grip on her arm tightening. "Nonsense," he said firmly, his voice taking on that patronizing tone again. "You're perfectly fine, Martha. Stop being such a silly child and enjoy the party." He gestured toward a nearby waiter who was holding a tray of glasses filled with dark red liquid. "Here, have some wine. It will help calm your nerves."

"Wine?" she murmured, the word sending a chill through her body. Holding the glass in her hands, she looked at it with a strange look, slowly turning her gaze to her thin, delicate palms. In flashes, instead of a glass, something else appeared in her hand and her hand at that moment was several times larger, covered in hair and obviously masculine, not like a hand of this fragile body she saw now.

"No… no, this isn’t real…" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. The wine in the glass seemed to shimmer and change color, turning a deep, sickly green that made her stomach churn. She felt the glass slipping from her grasp, but before she could stop it, it fell to the floor with a sharp crash, the sound echoing through the ballroom.

Heads turned, the elegant guests falling silent as they stared at her in shock. But Martha didn’t notice. She was too consumed by the madness that was rapidly taking over her mind. A wild, hysterical laugh bubbled up from deep within her, escaping her lips before she could stop it. She clutched her sides, doubling over as the laughter overtook her, the sound high-pitched and manic, completely unhinged.

"Martha!" Edward’s voice called out, but it sounded so distant now, as if coming from the far end of a long tunnel. "Martha, get a hold of yourself! You’re making a fool of yourself!"

But his words only seemed to make the madness worse. She shoved him away with a strength that shocked even her, sending him stumbling backward into the crowd of onlookers. "I’m not Martha! I’m not!" she shrieked, her voice rising to a fever pitch. "I’m… I’m…" But the name escaped her.

Her eyes darted around the room, they landed on a nearby table set with an elaborate display of food and drink. Without thinking, she lunged toward it, grabbing the edge and flipping it over with a crazed strength that sent platters and glasses crashing to the floor. She stumbled backward, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild animal trying to break free from its cage.

"Martha, stop this at once!" again Edward tried to calm his wife who suddenly became mad. But along with his voice she heard another, shouting louder and louder, “Fight! You have to get back, M-Kht-in," it's name! Hard to pronounce and almost incomprehensible, but that was her name! "Find the device. Find it and activate it. You can do this. You must do this."

Edward's strong hand grabbed her and pulled her out of the ballroom, when Martha wanted to run. With each passing second, reality returned again to her. The strange male voice that had suddenly arisen in her madness gradually became quieter and quieter, and Martha finally heard Edward's words and realized how she has acted.

"You are going to apologize to each guest in this house!" she heard her husband's stern words, when they returned to their bedroom, and her legs suddenly weakened and she dropped on her knees and hugged his hips, resting her head against his manhood through the trousers.

"Sorry! Sorry!" she whispered quietly, her body shaking, tears ran down her face, "Please forgive me, husband. I am a bad wife. I didn't mean to upset you or the guests. Please... I'm sorry, Edward. Forgive me!" she repeated "I will be good!" she promised him in a broken whisper "I promise!" she begged "Just please don't throw me into a madhouse, I don't know what happened, I don't know what got into me..."