Wed With Hate; Parted With Blood

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It was early spring yet, I was far from happy. Most people would be confused as I suppose you must be. Why be unhappy in the spring? The winter chill has fled and the summer sun does not yet shine. Well, the answer is that I was to be wed. I feared the outcome of this marriage for I despised the groom. Alas, my parents forced this unwilling marriage upon me.

The groom was considered handsome by many, but I found him far from Prince Charming. He’d come to town no more than a month before to ask my hand. I realize that most girls of my age have been wed for a couple of years, but I wanted to be wed for love. To be wed for this man’s pleasure and benefit alone revolted me. The very idea! My repulsive fiancée was an obnoxious lord corrupted by greed and his sense of self. I’d made up my mind the moment we’d become betrothed. Either he or I should be removed from the picture.

I had come to the conclusion that I had two options. The first would be a dastardly deed that, if it should become known I had done it, I would be hanged. The second as bad being hanged, only far quicker. Both sins never to be forgiven. I had no choice but to sin. My hands had the power to take life, but the life of the bride, or the groom? And, when? Before the marriage or after? After.

As I pondered and decided, Elizabeth prepared me for the wedding. She did everything she should. She laced my corsets and picked my dress, making the elegance alienate me from myself. The ceremony drew ever nearer and soon we were off; as we rode our carriage to the church for my marriage, I prayed. I prayed that there was a god to hear my pleas, for I would need all her help available. Mother wept in her joy and Father remarked proudly, “She is to be wed!”

My stomach turned with anticipation as I approached the altar; my heart began to race. O let there be a god! Let that god treat me with fortune otherwise I am doomed to remain eternally in hell if such a wretched place exists! For I am about to sin. He recites his vows. Then it’s my turn. ’Til death do us part! O how soon that was to be! With a trembling voice I recited my own vows.

“You may now kiss the bride,” said the friar. The repulsive creature to which I was now wed placed his awful mouth on mine and a wave of loathing almost ruined me as I thought of killing him in that moment. I must wait. Then he led me away and I smiled. It was almost time. I was ashamed of myself. I was about to murder, yet I was thrilled. I was prepared to go through with my dastardly scheme with no regrets. Why ashamed? Rather than a life of misery I could get loved or hung; I was giving myself a second chance. Was it really something to be ashamed of?

As soon as we were out of sight of anyone else, I allowed him to kiss me again, using his distraction to remove a large dagger from the folds of my gown where it’d been concealed. With all the strength I could muster, I drew the blade cross his throat, removing the disgusting head from his repulsive body. I then cut out the man’s heart and threw it cross the field in which I now stood alone. I stepped passed the corpse of my husband, into the nearby woods, where I dropped the weapon as someone might do as he fled the scene of his crime. I then returned to the place I’d stood to murder him. I screamed in mock terror.

“O help! Murder! Murderer in the woods! O in this village, too. Help! Murder! My husband’s been murdered!” I forced tears to my eyes. “Someone help me! He’s dead! O god, he’s dead!” ‘Twasn’t long before my cries were heard. My mother shrieked at the sight. “O Mother, he’s dead!”

“Who did this, child? He shall be hanged!” Father demanded.

“O Father! I do not know the perpetrator! Alas, he fled to yonder woods when I began to scream. O lord he’s dead!” It was hard to act so grief- stricken when truly I was so happy.

“Search the woods! Find him! I want to see him hanged!” Father shouted. And he led the hunting party into the woods. Mother took me home uttering words of comfort all the while. I tried not to laugh at her. I had the power to kill. To kill and lead others to believe I had not done. I felt pride, then doubt. What would happen should they somehow discover that I had done the deed? Should I be hanged? Yes, I should be. Yet I was determined not to be. Upon reaching our home, I retired to my room, to be alone with these thoughts.

There was no way they could not discover my treachery. I would be condemned, hanged, and tortured forever more. Is there an afterlife? I would soon know as I could no longer bear the thought of being hung; I would not be hung! They’ll never hang me! With my decision made, I steal into the kitchen and remove a carving knife. I return to my chambers and lie down on my bed behind the curtains. O please let hell be not real! I pull the blade toward my heart and…





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