I am haunted by visions of the past. In my dreams I see we girls all screaming and fainting while a crowd looks on. The crowd itself is just a blur of color but one face stands out. It is John Proctor's face. His eyes never leave me but he does not look loving instead he looks angry and sad. Then all at once he stops breathing and the flesh melts from him leaving only the frame of his bones which collapse into dust and I wake screaming.
Mercy understands nothing. She left Salem without guilt while I live bathed in guilt. It follows after me wherever I go, poking and prodding. I am finally really witched but I am the witch.
John will hang today. He did not confess or I surely would have read it in the papers. I wonder, will I feel it when his neck breaks? Will something inside me finally crumple at the moment that he dies so that I may die too in the dusty streets? Perhaps it has already happened. I may never know. All I know is that in the end it was not worth it. What I have done cannot be forgiven. My obsession has led me to a place where I must sell myself to survive. To think, that I once dreamed to be the wife of the man whose neck now breaks for my sins. Forgive me, John for neither I nor God can.