Page 17 of Damnation
“I heard of what has happened. Tituba, you did not really bewitch those girls, I know it to be true…right?”
“Maybe. Though a little sleeping potion from time to time to calm Betty’s fits. I cannot understand why the girls would turnon me so. When I have cared for them in the way their own mother cannot. Why is it so simple for them to forsake me, cast me away as if I am a danger to all?” she asks, her deep brown eyes coming to my own.
“So, you have not harmed?” I ask, making sure her intentions are pure. If they be true, there shall be no reason for this level of treatment.
A hardened look passes upon her face as she looks away and speaks.
“Perhaps a few stomach aches have been given to Elizabeth when she has treated me or the girls less than. She’s a vile woman, vile things to occur to her are the least of what she deserves.”
The sleep aid could be viewed as helping, though the Church and townsfolk would no doubt consider it to be witchcraft, I would like to hope they would see it for the good it is. Every time little Betty shakes, she gets slower, duller. Her body cannot take many more years of it, so I ought see nothing wrong with aiding that. ‘Tis a gift if anything, but the stomach pain? Causing intentional hurt and harm? ‘Tis where Tituba and I do not see eye to eye or heart to heart.
She not only practices the same healing as I, she plays in the darkness. We have not yet spoken of it deeply. For when she spoke of dolls she creates to emulate others, I insisted she stop. My mother warned me of such things as a child. A dangerous kind of power, a dark one. One that I ought not even listen to for risk spending my eternity rotting in hell with the Devil himself. She urged me to stay to the light, stay connected to God and harness the power and energy he gifted not only this world, but me with, and I have done as she so told.
“Tituba…” I trail off. “Reverend Parris is out for your head! You must stop all talk of such things,” I urge as I lower my voice, fearful of the others locked away listening in.
“My head has been on his chopping block for a great long while,” she says numbly, as if she has accepted the fate to come.
I roll my lips together, attempting to put into words my fears before she speaks.
“Why have you come? I know for certain, ‘tis not out of concern for me.”
Frowning at that, I shake my head.
“‘Tis not true. I did come to see you, to discover what may have happened. To?—”
“Find out if I have let on there may be morewitchesin Salem that they not know of yet?” she asks, a sharp glint in her eye as she speaks.
The way she says witches, like a hissing sound that echoes in this damp jail cell, sends chills up my back. I do not think of myself as a witch, not in the slightest. I’m a healer, a harnesser of nature. I help. I don’t cast spells on people. None of that really is the point, though, is it?
“Please, Tituba. I’m begging. I have a child. I…I’m with child,” I say a little softer.
That appears to grip hold of her attention. Her head turns up with haste as she looks at me curiously before her dirt covered hand reaches through the jail bars, landing right onto my stomach. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply before she pulls away. Her eyes open, and her hand leaves behind a near perfect handprint onto my dress as a sinister smile spreads across her face.
“And ‘tis not your husband’s child.”
She tuts at me as if I am a misbehaving child as she shakes her head.
“You have been a naughty witch, Miss Sarah.”
“I am not a witch,” I hiss under my breath. “You ought not be spreading lies of good people! What have I ever done to deserve that kind of betrayal? I have aided you when you have asked ofit. I have created tonics, fetched herbs when you could not. We were…we are friends, are we not?”
Tituba sits back, resting her head against the cement wall.
“Only in namesake. I hath not spoken your name or others out of loyalty. Yet.”
“What do you mean, yet?” I ask, fear shaking through my voice as I lean in closer. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, Miss Sarah…but in these times…I will do what is necessary for my survival.”
Fear clenches inside me as I stand, covering my face once more as I run out of the jailhouse, slipping out the back as I did in. I do not stop running till I am all the way home. Once I arrive, I have every intention of packing anything I can carry for myself and Dorothy and running. Where, I cannot be sure, but…anywhere. Then I think on what will cross Thomas’s mind when he discovers I’ve run away, with his baby. He will come for me, chase me, and bring the Church right along with him. Closing my eyes, I make a plan. I will find him tomorrow. I will convince him of my terror with the whispers of witches, with the danger to Dorothy and our baby. I will urge us to make the journey now. Winter or not, if I do not leave Salem soon, I fear I will not live to see the next.
Chapter Eight
Thomas
Ifind myself unable to take my mind off Sarah. She wholly occupies my mind and all my heart desires. I wish nothing more than to be by her side now as spring draws near. The preparations have been made, our time is growing near. Two more Sundays and the journey shall be more favorable for young Dorothy as well as Sarah in her condition. Her belly grows by the day, as does my joy. She believes it to be a little girl and was worried that would displease me. Maybe at times it would, but not with her, nothing with her could ever bring me anything but happiness.
Instead of preparing my fresh start, tidying up my affairs, or sneaking in a few more minutes with my beloved, I am here, in the town’s meetinghouse, where we are finally interrogating Tituba for her crimes against Parris’s daughter and niece.
