As Long As We Both Shall Live (Part 5)

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Poor Ambrose.....til death do us part...dear...

Submitted: January 01, 2018

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Submitted: January 01, 2018

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The darkness fell very deeply into the night. Ambrose had eventually surrendered and climbed up the stairs and into the bed with me. He did not dare wrap his arms around me after our latest conversation. Not even one utterance of an apology from that scoundrel! His apology would not diminish my thoughts of obtaining money, enough to escape from this tragic place and start anew. I slipped Ambrose’s boots on over my bare feet and journeyed downstairs. I carefully pushed the door out into the night air and walked to the barn. I walked swiftly as the pounding in my heart began to make me feel uneasy. I pushed open the red door and walked inside.

“Where is that darned lantern?” I searched and fumbled my way in the dark before lighting the lantern

I took the lantern and searched all over the barn until my eyes rested upon a gleaming ax. I walked over and picked it up. It was heavier than I expected as I almost dropped it. I grabbed the handle and dragged it across the barn floor and back out into the night. The ax made a slight metallic sound as it drug across the earth. Once inside, I blew out the light and removed the caked boots from my feet. As I made my way up the stairs, I carefully lifted the ax, as to not drag it along the stairs. I stood outside the doorway and watched Ambrose. His chest steadily rose and fell with every breath from his body. My breathing was much quicker and was beginning the grow louder. I closed my eyes and opened the door to our room and made my way to the bed. He looked so peaceful as he slept, it almost made me feel a twinge of guilt. I decided to label it as nervousness and proceeded about my business. I licked my lips and rubbed my hands along the handle while examining him. I could hit his chest, but that may require more blows than one. The ax could become lodged within him, and I would have to yank it out. Ambrose moved and my heart leapt up into my throat as I lifted the ax, ready to attack if he should wake. My head was pounding with the sound of my heartbeat, and my hands grew sweaty. The reoccurring thoughts of my life as a wife plagued my mind. I would no longer be a wife, I would have to leave my house, possibly even change my name. I began to panic and started breathing heavily. Suddenly, I thought of Mother. I thought of how she lived her life, how I wanted something better. I wanted to and needed to make her proud of me. I must do this. I promised I would have a better life.

“Ambrose..” I whispered as I closed my eyes and swung the ax down.

The sound of metal upon flesh and bone echoed throughout the room. I felt the spray of blood caress my cheek before opening my eyes. There, in the corner of the room, was Ambrose’s head. The eyes were still closed shut, as if he were in a perfect dream world forever. The blood quickly began to pool around my feet and all over the sheets. I scanned the bed and swiftly decided to gather the sheets. No. This must be staged. No one can suspect I did this. I carelessly hid the ax under the bed and went to the bathroom. I scrubbed the blood from my skin and nails. Then, I quickly tore off the gown that was caked in fresh red blood. I did not want to appear as if I had been holding his decapitated corpse in my grief-stricken arms. I was supposed to be in shock. I panicked momentarily, unsure where to dispose of the wretched thing. The bathtub! I swiftly placed it inside before returning to the bedroom. I changed into another white gown of mine, it made me seem as though I had an aura of purity about me. I swallowed a bubble of air and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Soon, almost instantly, one of the farm hands ran up the stairs. He knocked before entering.

“Mrs. Harper?” the door swung open as his jaw dropped

The tears flooded my eyes as they met his “S..someone has m..murdered Ambrose.”

He walked over to me in disbelief and glanced at the scene. He covered his mouth with his hand before running to the corner and vomiting. Another farm hand arrived and looked all over with widened eyes. He walked to me after coming to his senses and lifted me from the mess.

“She should not be here. She needs to leave.” He began to lift me into his arms as I sobbed.

“My husband!” I yelled

My own fear and sadness surprised me, but it was not due to grief. It was from the suddenness and frightfulness of the act itself. It was terrifying, and exhilarating. The adrenaline still coursed through my veins. The farm hand laid me in a chair and poured me a glass of brandy.

“Drink this miss. It will help.” he nodded as he handed me the glass and went to survey the damage I had done

I took the glass and watched him walk away. I took a deep breath and sighed.

“Till death do us part.” I lifted my glass and downed the brandy


© Copyright 2019 Belle Monroe. All rights reserved.

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