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"play with matches, you get burned" -anonymous
song to listen to: eleanor rigby by cody fry
warnings: swearing, descriptions of violence, sobbing, mental breakdowns, descriptions of panic and terror/fear, descriptions of being burned alive, mentions of hanging, mentions of death, descriptions of death, grab the tissues, you will be crying this chapter
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The town of Union was splayed out before me in a messy half circle. The sun was just beginning to rise, but it didn't yet show in the sky, causing the spoken-about sky to be an unsettling in-between of blue and black. I spotted Thomas in the crowd, and standing only a couple of feet away from him was Abigail, Isaac, and Lizzie. Notably, Josephine stood apart from the rest of the town, sharing the same expressionless face as Mother.
My hands were tied behind my back by one rope, and a larger rope held me hostage against a thick log from a cypress tree. From my chest to my knees, a single silver chain was wrapped around my body. It was time to say my goodbyes, but what voice would I be given? What voice did I even have left? All eyes were on me. I should say something. I need them to hear the truth from me, even if they choose to not believe me, or call me psychopathic. One person will know the truth. One person needs to know the truth. I can't let this truth die with me like it died with Sarah, even if this is my final dawn alive.
"Rosette Peters is here before us today," Solomon Goode was shouting for the world to hear, not just Union. "Due to the charges of witchcraft, murder, and assault! Rosette," he turned to face me, and I glared him down. "How do you plead?"
Staying silent, I spat right in his face. The town gasped, and Solomon harshly seized my cheek-jawline area, and although I tried to jerk away, he pulled me closer. My face was flaming with pain, and my body shook with fright. Solomon repeated his words.
"How do you plead?"
How did I plead? He was asking a question for the ages, a question that I may never answer. Staying silent, I pondered this impossible question. 'How do you plead' is no question that a seventeen year old woman should have to find herself capable of answering. I needed somebody to know the truth. Somebody to know. One person to carry on the legacy. It needed to happen.
"How do you plea-"
"I confess!" I cried out.
Nobody said a word. There was perfect silence among the crowd-you couldn't even hear a million crickets chirping like they usually do. Expressions of horror, anger, sadness, and even disappointment was clearly displayed across every single citizen's face. They all believed my lie-of course they did. They also were most likely having complete and utter deja-vu to Sarah's confession. That was fine. To be quite frank, I don't know why I expected anything else. But this wouldn't be enough. I needed to feed them more. To make at least one person become curious.
