Page 8 of Damnation (Gallows Hill)

Chapter Six

Thomas

My God, forgive me for what I have done, for not only have I bathed in sin, a child is now the product of our adultery. Lord, forgive me because I’m not sorry. I want her, I want them both.

Surely, I will still provide for Ann and my children. I am not a heartless man, but I have also been a hollow one for years. My own kin slowly turned against me, by their mother, no less, till I am nothing but a barely tolerated wallet for their benefits.

Sarah, though…she wants for nothing with me but…me. She craves my time, not my coin. She desires my touch, not the life I can provide. Therefore, she deserves the entire world around us. I need Sarah, not only in my life as she has been, but in my home, in my arms. Where she belongs.

The morality war raging inside me is a fierce one, there is no doubt. I may provide justifications of my morals and actions, though I hath no doubt not another soul alive would see it through my eyes. Sarah and I would be condemned, shunned, possibly even harmed.

I cannot let that happen. I will not.

Though I’d love nothing more than to speak with my brother or even my best friend about this, I know I ought not to.

For my brother is a judgmental arse, and my best friend is the reverend of our town.

Surely both would press myself to death by way of stone rather than grasp the depth of my affections for Sarah Good.

So, for now, I shall stay silent. No doubt, when spring comes along with our departure, there will be talk.

There will be judgment and vile words spewed.

None of that matters, though. We will be long gone, beginning our new life with my own new family, and though guilt and confliction rises inside of me, ‘tis not nearly as loud or powerful of the excitement at what is to come.

T ucking away my journal, I look up from my seat in the tavern to hear a commotion occur down the road.

Curious, I stand from my chair and rush outside to see Samuel screaming at the top of his lungs, his servant, Tituba, shackled in handcuffs while the sheriff marches her towards the jailhouse.

The crowd around us grows by the second, and I rush forward to see what is the matter.

“Witch!” he bellows, pointing his finger at Tituba. “Vile creature of Satan! Be gone with thee! Waste not a second on this demon, Sheriff! ‘Tis to the Gallows for her!”

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” I say calmly, attempting to reign control over his anger.

His eyes are like fire, nostrils flared in rage as he looks to me.

“What has she done, Samuel?” I ask.

“She has bewitched my kin! Betty and Abigail are in a state of fits, uncontrollably so. They spoke of Tituba cursing them. DEVIL WOMAN!” he screams, directing that last part to her as the sheriff walks away with her.

My mind reels as I attempt to make sense of his words.

“Betty has suffered from the shaking fits since infancy, has she not?”

“Yes!” he spits. “I hath no doubt it is at the hands of Tituba that she suffers from such! Just this morning, she baked a witch cake with dear Abigail! She is a witch! What I say is the truth. All ye tread carefully!” he continues, now addressing the large crowd that has formed.

Nervous expressions splash across each of the townsfolk, soft whispers beginning as the good reverend delivers an impromptu sermon.

“You ought not forsake our Lord and Savior! For evil is among us. Cloaked in the flesh of human, the Devil has infiltrated our dear village. I hath no doubt she is not alone. There may be other devil worshipers. We must cleanse this town of their evil and eradicate it immediately. In the name of Christ our king!”

Murmurs of agreement begin to rise as the villagers become more and more agitated by each word he speaks. Uncertainty rises in me as I listen on. Witches? In Salem? For all of our sakes, I do pray he is wrong. For if an evil like that lives among us…none can be safe.

A figure catches my eye across town, and I take an opportunity in Samuel’s anger to slip away. My head moves from side to side as I cross the dirt road, ensuring no prying eyes are on me. I suppose thankfully so, they are all on my best friend, whose hysterics are growing by the moment.

I follow her down the side of a building to the back alleyway. She doesn’t see me coming towards her, or she hasn’t a plan to stop for me. Either way, I pursue her with haste and grab her wrist when I am close enough, pushing her against the wall of the building.

A startled gasp escapes her, Sarah’s eyes wide with fear until they settle on me.

“Where is thou going, my love?” I ask, softening my words as I do.

“Hello,” she responds, smiling gently in a way that pulls at my heart.

“Hello,” I return. “I’ve missed you, so.”

Her smile is not nearly genuine as her gaze drifts off. The brows of my eyes pull together as I tilt her chin to face me.

“What troubles you?”

“Not a thing. Just the morning sickness and William’s usual behavior.”

Irritation sparks inside of me just at the mere mention of that parasite’s name.

“What hath he done now? I swear to God almighty if he has touched you, I’ll sooner cut off the hand that dared.”

She seems pleased by my display of aggression, no doubt taking it as an act of protection. Good, as she should. That is exactly what it is. I will protect my love, my life, with everything inside of me. Especially against a simpleton drunk as William Good.

Shaking her head as to dismiss me, a smile slowly graces her face.

“He has not raised his hand against me or Dorothy. Work at the Peabody’s has kept him most busy. Praise God for that. Say, what has occurred in town? I heard the reverend causing quite the stir.”

I nod, looking back the way I came in case of onlookers, before my gaze returns to her.

“Tituba has been taken to the jailhouse for witchcraft.”

Sarah’s face turns white with fear, and I attempt to comfort her as I rest my hands onto her arms.

“Do not feel worry, my love. She has been taken care of.”

She blinks for a few moments before shaking her head.

“What do you mean, witchcraft? Here? In Salem? It can’t be!”

I nod. “Parris recounted Tituba has been bewitching Abigail and Betty. Believes she is to blame for Betty’s shaking fits. I, too, was taken by surprise. I am heading to the jailhouse to see how I can be of assistance in the process.”

Sarah does not speak, that same hollow fear staunched across her face. My hand rises to cup her cheek, my fingers tracing the smooth skin tenderly as I speak with comfort.

“Take no fear in this moment. We shall all keep the town safe, and I shall keep you safe all the same. I swear to it.”

A strained smile meets her lips as she nods to me.

Looking around us once more, I ensure the coast is clear before resting my free hand onto her belly as I press my lips to hers.

She meets me eagerly as our embrace becomes feverish.

My hands roam over her curves as her own wrap around my neck.

I ought to know better than what I am about to do, but when a woman as beautiful as Sarah looks at you and lets out the softest whimper, well, God made me only human.

My fingertips skate down her legs before pushing up her skirt.

A gasp escapes her that only spurs me on.

Pushing her undergarments to her knees, I’m able to pull myself from my trousers before pushing inside her.

We both gasp at the feeling of being together once more.

For decency, I pull her skirt down to conceal us, so that God forbid a witness should pass us by, the sight of our actions would be undetermined.

Who am I trying to fool? There would be no mistake. The joining of our bodies is hard and rough. We are not slow or subtle in our moves. I fear we will dent the brick building behind us with the fever of our thrusts.

The fear of being caught like this, with a woman who is not my wife, in public, no less, is far more thrilling than it ought to be.

Dare I say, ‘tis the best sex of my life. Every time with Sarah has been blissful, but this…the excitement, the rush. It is practically euphoric, and I’m a vile man for taking pleasure in such.

Her tightness grips me in a way that has myself aching for my release.

“Thomas,” Sarah moans softly as I bring my free hand up to cover her mouth.

“Not a word! You should know the penalty we should face upon someone catching us like this. We’d be ruined, cast out, perhaps even tried.”

“I know,” she agrees as I move my hand to palm her cheek, softening her tone this time.

“Only you could do this to me, turn me into this kind of lawless, sinful man. Only you could woo me with your charm and beauty, practically forcing me to impregnate you and before you have even birthed our first child, make me desperate for another,” I say between clenched teeth.

Sarah’s eyes sparkle in surprise as her mouth drops open.

“Another?”

“Yes. One baby is not enough with you, Sarah. One life is not enough. The instant you are able, I will be filling you with my seed once more. Again and again until we have a brood that rivals the King of England’s.”

“Thomas,” she cries, like my name is an answer to her prayers.

I hold her tightly, utilizing the angle of us to push myself deeper inside her.

“Nothing will ever be enough with you, my love. I want it all. We shall marry before the baby comes, so they ought not be born out of wedlock. From there, we shall start our new life, together.”

“‘Tis all I desire,” she moans.

“I know, I know. Be my perfect girl and release for me. Allow me to fill you up so your womb shall never be empty again.”

I feel her begin to clench and spasm around me before my hand presses firmly against her mouth to muffle her screams. I, too, find my release in the next moment and have no other alternative than to bury my head into her neck, sinking my teeth into her silky flesh as I fill her with my seed.

As my thrusts slow, I can feel it attempt to escape her, but I will not allow it.

My hips move forward several more times, ensuring every drop remains where it belongs.

We hold our embrace for several moments before I press my forehead upon hers.

“Until spring, my love,” I say, rubbing my hand against our growing child.

“Until spring.”