Page 25 of Damnation
“The nonsense Osborne spoke of…about you. Give me the words I need to defend you. Speak the truth, they were falsities, yes?”
Understanding comes upon her face, twisting my stomach with nerves.
“Thomas…” she speaks softly.
My name. Not a yes. Not an explanation. A plea.
Slowly, I withdraw my hands from hers as I stand to my feet. I pace in place for several moments before turning to look down upon her.
“‘Tis true? You are a witch?”
“NO! No,” she says as she climbs to her feet, attempting to convince me. “I am not what they say, nor have I done what I am accused of. I…” She pauses for a moment, rubbing her lips together as if they will do the speaking for her.
“I am no witch, Thomas. I love God and reject the Devil. I love you. I would never lie to you, about anything.”
“But you certainly withheld this for the duration of our courtship, did you not?” I snap, fury and betrayal coursing through my veins as I look upon the woman I thought I knew better than myself.
She looks hurt, in response to my words or maybe my tone, as she shakes her head.
“I’ve never spoken aloud of what I practice. I knew how the Church would see it, how people would talk. I am not evil. I only try to bring good. I harness the energy and gifts God has provided me to do good. Tonics, supplements, healing stones. I do not channel dark, only light. I have never afflicted anyone nor harmed in any way. Thomas, please, you know me,” she begs.
I shake my head, staring at the cement wall as I mull over her words. They pull at my heart the way all her words do. I want so badly to believe her, to trust her. How can what she say be true? A good witch? A light witch? There be no such thing. Though if there ever would be, I imagine she would look something like my Sarah. Kind, warm, giving.
“Speak true to me now, did you harm Abigail or Betty?”
“No!” she insists. “I never cross paths with the girls. When would I have the time nor desire to do such things?”
I watch her closely, searching for a hint of insincerity in her words, but I come up shy. She seems to be speaking the truth,and I want to believe her, so. There is a small voice in the back of my head that screams for me to tread with caution. Whether it be the little angel or devil on either shoulder, I cannot speak on which calls to me now.
Shaking my head, I look to the ground as I speak, not having the gall to do it eye to eye.
“I think ‘tis best you stay here till evidence can be collected.”
“As if I had a choice,” she scoffs. “Say what you truly mean, Thomas. You believe me not, and now you are turning thy back upon me. Upon us,” she says, resting her shackled hands upon her belly.
That stirs something inside me, and I close the distance between us, placing my hands on top of hers.
“Never. I just…I am worried if they speak the truth, my love. I have faith in you, but others will not. Maybe…maybe you ought confess to witchcraft as Tituba did. She is being gifted pardon in exchange.”
“No. I will not allow them to depict me for something I am not.”
I attempt to reason with her. “Sarah, thee will not stand a fair trial! If thou tries to explain you are a good sort of witch, they will remain unbelieving and you will hang!”
“Do not forsake my intelligence, Thomas. They will hang me either way.”
“No,” I say, clenching my teeth together. “No. I will not allow it. We will…will find a way. I will break thee out of here. I shall head back to Salem Village, collect provisions, and will return for you in a fortnight.”
“What of Dorothy?” she argues.
“My concern is getting you away from danger first. We will fetch Dorothy at a later time. Stay safe. I will return soon.”
She blinks up at me with uncertainty when the sound of the door echoes through the jail. Hurriedly, I press a kiss to her lips as she whispers.
“Do not forget me.”
“Never,” I vow as I slip out of the cell, attempting to mask my emotions as the jailor brings in a dripping wet Osborne.
He tosses her into the cell, locking it behind her as he looks to me.
