Page 19 of Damnation (Gallows Hill)
Chapter Sixteen
Thomas
My heart is filled with so much sorrow. Sorrow I didn’t know I was capable of experiencing.
The ache in my chest has not dulled since that morning.
The jailer of Ipswich arrived at my door in the middle of the night in a panic.
I answered with irritation, but the moment I looked upon his face, I knew what was happening.
The entire ride there, I pushed my horse as fast as it could go. I was racing time, I knew that much. I did not know I was racing a chance to witness my child alive.
Her pale blue face is burned in my mind, forever embedded, forever a part of me.
The hollow, gaunt look of Sarah as she spoke of it was spine chilling.
Not for her lack of emotion, though ‘tis what you might assume.
No, I saw the pain in her beautiful eyes.
The heartache I felt in my own chest. She was numb, in shock, and truthfully, I believe I am the same.
I insisted on taking the baby home to Salem for a proper burial.
I could not put faith in the jailers at Ipswich to take the care Mercy deserved.
Surprisingly, Sarah did not fight me. She looked to me with such hatred that it turned my stomach as I took our lifeless child from her arms before tucking her against me.
I buried her beneath the tree where Sarah and I spent our nights together. It felt right to have her laid to rest in the place where her mother and father were at their happiest. Where we dreamed of the life we would give her, the one we would live together.
A sharp knock comes from my door. I shake my thoughts away, tucking my journal safely inside my pocket as I look to see my visitor. When the door is opened, Edward is standing there, dressed in black, as he looks to me.
“Art thou ready?”
Ready? As if he could ever possibly understand that I shall never be ready for this day.
This moment. I had no idea how I would manage to get out of bed this morning, let alone be ready.
I am, though. As ready as I am able. My clothes are put on with pride, I’m freshly bathed, and together, we set off for Gallows Hill.
Edward does not speak, and I am grateful for as much.
He knows of my relations with Sarah, knows that it was my child in her belly.
He knows nothing, though. He knows not of my care for her, the love.
He knows not of the torment I have suffered, pulled between the woman who holds my heart and my dedication to the Church and townsfolk of Salem.
If I was not a better man, I would have run away with Sarah, started our new life just as promised.
As a Puritan man, I have a responsibility.
No matter the love I feel, I shall not give into the Devil’s whispers.
For I know, despite her words, he is the one who holds her heart.
Who holds all of those practicing witchcraft, and for that, there is only one path.
Sheriff Corwin is readying the nooses and the stools for the sentenced to stand upon before their execution. Nearly the entire town is present this morning. Today is not just any hanging. Today, a total of five witches shall be hanged for their wrongdoings and evil work. Including my Sarah.
I attempt to persuade myself to listen to reason and think truly.
Sarah is a witch; she has denied it by title, but not by practice.
She spins tales with pretty words of being a lover of God but harnesses powers gifted from Satan himself.
This be the only answer that should bring God glory and justice.
A fairytale of good witches is just that, a fairytale, and though it pains me, I do not believe her.
Since the first few arrests, the town’s eyes have been opened.
More witches than we ever believed to be possible reside with us.
Salem is not safe. We must purge the land of the unholy occupants before God almighty strikes us down himself, for I fear we are facing to be the next Sodom and Gomorrah if we do not take action.
For a moment, I consider standing in the back.
Perhaps if I do not set eyes on her, the ache inside me will fade.
Though even I know ‘tis too cowardly of an act to perform. Slowly, Edward and I move through the crowd till we are but at the front. Five nooses hang upon a structure built by several men in town. One of whom to be William Good, the abusive bastard that I have yet to see at his own wife’s hanging.
I sneer to myself, shaking my head as Parris approaches my side.
“What a joyous day it is this morning,” he says to me with a nod.
“‘Tis indeed,” I say, only bearing little lie.
‘Tis a good day. We are closer to cleansing our village, protecting our children, winning the favor of God’s love once more. I just wish this damned ache inside me would fade soon.
Several others join us at the front, the most dedicated of the townsfolk. Walcott, Preston, Griggs, and more. They all share the desire for protection Parris and I feel, the need to purge the land of evil and be a town of good folk and value once more.
They are a good lot, better than the conspirators I have heard whisperings of.
Some think the trials are moving too quickly, that the process is not done thoroughly.
They have the arrogance to call us hasty in our accusations and sentencing.
I say anyone who thinks or speaks so must be a witch in blood or heart, for they ought not spread lies for any other reason.
My eyes move around the crowd, resting on those I know to be suspicious. We will seek them out, one by one, and we shall see for real and for truth who stands with us…or with them.
My attention is elsewhere when the convicted are led to the Gallows.
The crowd begins to erupt, booing, screaming, and even cursing towards them.
Four of the women hide their faces in shame, rightfully so.
One, though, does not. Instead, she meets the eyes of every last person in the crowd, as if committing them to memory.
Though I desire to drop my eyes before her gaze reaches my own, I refuse.
When those beautiful eyes land upon me, my stomach flips, though I am unsure if it is from disgust or desire.
Perhaps a mixture of the two. Disappointment fills her features as she sneers at me before approaching the stool before her.
All others have the nooses already around their necks, quiet sobs echoing through the trees as Sarah shakes her head and begins to run.
Ingersoll and Corwin fight with her before securing the noose around her neck. She continues fighting and struggling as Corwin lifts her upon her stool, holding her in place as Reverend Noyes addresses her first.
“Sarah Good! Thou hast been proven to be a witch, there be no denying it. Admit to your sins to save your immortal soul or suffer with the damned!”
Everyone listens with bated breath when Sarah finishes fighting, her body stilling in a moment. She closes her eyes calmly, breathing in and out before what looks like fire burns beneath her eyes.
“You’re a liar! I’m no more a witch than you are a wizard!”
Gasps of outrage and horror echo through the crowd as Noyes’s face turns red with fury.
“If you take my life away, God will give you blood to drink!”
Noyes’s anger grows as he closes the distance between them as Sarah looks to me.
All of the anger and outrage is still heavy upon her face, though the fire in her eyes has dimmed, drenched with immense sadness.
Her mouth moves, though no sound escapes.
I’m able to make out the beginning of it, though.
I hate…
The next moment, Noyes kicks the stool beneath her feet, and the sound of her neck snapping echoes in the air around us. I audibly gasp, though I was prepared for it. My body jolts as I see the woman I once thought I loved hanging by her neck, swinging in the breeze.
Still. Lifeless. Gone.
My eyes are still upon hers when I hear the sound of another stool being kicked, followed by another snap of a neck. Sarah’s face swings to face me once more, and I burn the sight into my mind before closing my eyes and turning away.
Without a word, I begin pushing through the crowd, moving to go anywhere but here.
I hear several call out for me, but I ignore each as I move on.
I allow the sight of Sarah’s hanging to be forever placed in my memories, right beside my sweet Mercy.
I take every bit of the hurt I feel inside me and allow it to consume me.
Anger. Pain. Fear. Rage. It all flows through my veins as I open my eyes, feeling more powerful than I have for all of my life.
After all, name a man who is more powerful than a man with nothing to lose.