Walking up to the courtroom doors with Margaret and hearing Lucy say that Hunt has closed the gallery, makes me wish I could break the doors down and be there for my chosen. Instead, I school my expression and look at Margaret.
“We’ve scared him witless” Mags states.
“That’s a good thing,” Lucy says. I, staying quiet, disagree. It’s not a good thing. It’s not a good thing that we can’t be in there to support Nancy, to let her be persecuted without our support, my support.
“No, a frightened man is a very dangerous thing Lucy,” remarks Margaret.
“I agree Mags, lord knows what he could decide to do while we’re all out here.” She looks at me and rubs my back reassuringly, knowing how I feel inside. I look around at everyone gathering around the building, wishing she hadn’t led the rioting last night, but also still being proud of her for doing it, for allowing poor Mary to get the peace she deserves in the afterlife.
All of a sudden, we hear the unmistakable sound of a hammer on metal. It draws my attention to the wooden pole in the middle of the square, and the man hammering cuffs and chains in the wood.
“Take Jacob home Lucy. Now!” I look at Mags as she says this, and I can just feel my heart sinking. Everyone started getting louder, and the shouting started to make my ears ring. The feeling of impending doom or something worse coming and impossible to shake, especially knowing my love was involved.
The guards start pushing everyone around, pushing them back and away from the doors. Just as suddenly, the doors to the court open to reveal Nancy being escorted by two more guards and the Judge behind her, wearing her undershirt and pants, but nothing else. Mags starts yelling for her.
“Nancy! Nancy!” Margaret roars. Over and over again calling to her. But I feel frozen next to her. I try to open my mouth, try to say anything, do anything, but I can’t. I just stare at Nancy. I just stare at her ghostly face and her expression, her expression that will haunt my dreams for what very may well be eternity.
Nancy just keeps walking, casting a glance first at Margaret, then at me. It’s as if she just looks past me like she was willing me to just be a figment of her imagination to not have me witness what was about to take place. Worried more so it seems for my well-being than her own. Leave it to my Nance to be walked to her lashing, but still more concerned for me than what she was about to face.
It makes me think about our relationship, how if it weren’t for me always forcing her to put her wellbeing and wellness first, she would have crashed out a while ago. However, the same could be said for me. How if it weren’t for her checking on me and always being my rock I’d be just another body in a bed.
“This is a good woman!” I’m brought back to the here and now by Margaret pleads, grabbing onto the guard holding her back. Not even realizing that I walked towards the pole and stood off to the side to be in direct view of where Nancy would be looking.
“She has been tried and sentenced according to her offense” Judge Hunt dictates.
“These are the actions of a tyrant!” Margaret begs, trying to make the man see the error of his ways. I’m too busy watching the guards lead Nancy to the wooden pole. Watching how he starts to secure her wrists to the cuffs. Watching how she is trying to mentally prepare herself for what is about to come. How she is also emotionally vulnerable by her past coming back and how the crowd has gathered to watch what should not be allowed anymore.
“Obstruct the law at your peril!” The judge threatens Mags. I can see how she is barely holding it together, probably similar to how my face looks.
“Ma don’t!” Lucy implores her ma. Trying to prevent her from becoming a part of this as well.
“This w- w- woman is guilty of sedition!” The judge is declaring to the crowd. I’m still just staring at Nancy. At her being cuffed to this wooden log and looking like that little girl again who had to fight her way out of Quigley’s house of horrors. Wishing I had the power to do something, anything! I wish I could run to her and put my body on top of hers and make them lash me instead. But I can’t, and I can see, even as she is putting her forehead on the pole, the glance into my eyes imploring me to not do anything stupid, to not jump in and be the one to delay what is inevitable.
“She has plotted against the rightful rule of law! I am charged with upholding that law, a task I neither savor nor shrink from!” His voice is just piercing my skull, making it harder for me to restrain my tears. But I know Nancy doesn’t need my pity or sympathy, she is going to need me to be the strong one. Be the one to be there for her. I can see her looking at the pole, clenching her hands together, resting her forehead on it, willing herself to be prepared for what is to come.
The crowd keeps screaming. Calling the judge a tyrant and other things that I’m blurring out and starting to just hyperfocus on Nancy. On willing her to be able to get through this so that she can break down when we get back behind four walls where no one can see her.
I see the judge give the command to begin with a motion of his hand. I see the man walk around to Nancy’s back and rip the back of her shirt open. Seeing and feeling as if it were my own sharp gasp. I see her glance at me again and I can see the fear in those sky-blue eyes. Can see how utterly terrified she is and how she is struggling to breathe. Her sharp intakes of breath pulled on my lungs and forced me to breathe with her, trying to keep them consistent but we can’t….. I, I can’t.
The crowd is yelling. Yelling shame on you to the judge, the guards, the man about to lash her. Hearing Mags whimpering Nance over and over like it’s a prayer. But, but I can just stand there. I can’t make the words come out, can’t make my lips form the words they need to make. All I can do is feel and be helpless because the truth of it is that I am helpless. I was helpless to stop Nancy last night. But no, now is not the time for self-pity and what-ifs. It’s time for me to be there for my love, to be the one who will wipe her tears from her beautiful face and clean the horrendous marks that will scar her skin.
I see the man prepare the lash, and I see her clutching onto the pole and her sleeves. He strikes. It hits her, she screams out, and I feel my soul leave my body. I flinch with her, the tears I tried so hard to will away to show her a strong front are now pouring down my face like a pipe that burst, not listening to my internal heading to go away, to not let Nancy see my facade break so I can show her I can be strong and be there for her. But I can’t, so I just let them fall, hoping that she knows I’m her heart and that I will still be there for her.
The crowd flinched in time with the hits. Hearing Nancy gasp after each hit, her taking my breath on each one. Then it happens. Margaret. She turns, and I gasp. This time as my own. It’s like a wave. One by one everyone in the crowd turns around. Not letting that stuttering judge get the satisfaction of people witnessing this unlawful sanction. The judge looks perplexed, annoyed, and angered even though everyone is following Margaret’s lead. Well, all except for me. I can’t, I can’t bring myself to turn my back on my love.
It continues forever. The sound of the whip flying through the air, the sharp intake of breath from Nancy, my tears finally running dry and drying on my face and soaking my neck. Then it’s over. They’re unshackling her and Will comes out of nowhere. Picking her up and the guards giving Margaret her belongings we, one by one, make the journey back home. Or, well, back to Mag's place. I walk in step with Will, making sure Nancy feels my presence even though I’m afraid to touch her in this state. Afraid of her shutting me out.
Before we know it, we’re at the house. I follow in behind, watching as Will sets Nance down to her feet, her unsteady legs barely supporting her, and if not for Will keeping her arm around his shoulder, she would have most likely crumbled to the ground. Then Mags is grabbing her other arm. She doesn’t look at me, just lets them lead her to the room.
“Lucy fetch a basin of salt water” Mag demands of her daughter. Someone says oh god, but not until later do I realize it came out of my lips. I follow behind them, watching the blood continue to seep into her once-white blouse, turning it into what I would once call a beautiful red rose but now will associate it with a day of despair.
Upon reaching the doorway Nancy lets go of Will and Mags, clutching onto the doorway for support, and makes her way into the room. I stay back, watching it all happen, as Nancy tries to put her shields back in place. She goes to shut the door, but Mags is faster, stopping her with her hand.
“The wounds must be washed, Nance,” Mag states.
“I’ve been touched by others too much today,” Nancy remarks. I see Lucy approaching with the salt water and I move closer to the door. I’m not about to let Nancy shut me out too. Nancy almost rips the basin out of her hand and goes to shut the door. I finally step up, making my presence known and putting my foot in the door. She looks at me, well, more like glares as much as she can over the pain I see marking her face. I say nothing, just stare at her, letting her read my eyes that I am not going to back down.
Then I see it. That brief flicker of her relenting in her eyes, and she allowed me in. She shuts the door and turns the lock. Isolating us from the outside and, more importantly from what just happened. However, I still know not to overstep so I simply just perch on the bed, grateful I was wearing a simple outfit. A pair of black pants, boots, one of Nancy’s shirts, and my jacket matched to hers. I take off my jacket and boots, leaving them on the edge of the bed.
I simply am, not talking, just looking. Letting her do as she wishes. I know I refused to let her lock me out of the room, but it didn’t mean I was going to rush her and force her to let me care for her wounds. I simply wanted to be in there with her, for her. To let her come to me when she is ready, and to not be alone, to never let her be alone again.
Suddenly, she breaks. First, it starts with a couple of sniffles, then I see one tear fall down her face and her squeezing her eyes shut. Then I hear it, and it’s as if a knife was just put through my heart. In the five years of knowing her, one of those being together, I have never heard her make a noise like that. And I never want to hear it again. It’s more than just a sob, or a wail even. It’s as if someone was struck down from the highest of thrones without mercy. She’s quick to cover it, but it still pulls me to her, compelling me to do something, to not let her continue to work through it on her own.
“Nance,” I say as if approaching a frightened animal. She looks at me finally, and it just breaks my heart even more than I thought it could be broken after the lashing. Her eyes pull me to her, and she finally lets me pull her to me. Cradling her head on my shoulder, letting her tuck her face in the crook between my shoulder and neck. Her tears warming and wetting my skin and shirt.
“It’s alright Nancy,” I say while running my fingers through her hair, the other hand hovering, not knowing where to put it now that her back is raw. She’s clutching onto me as if she might float away with the tides, scared I will leave her.
“Will you let me wash your wounds, my love, please?” I plead with her. I’d never forgive myself if they got infected and took her with them.
“Just let me wash them, and then you can rest. I’ll even let you kick me out of this room if you so wish.” I wait, letting her tears soak into my shirt until she takes a breath, and starts to pull back from me. I let her, wanting her to go at her own pace, wanting her to see she is in control, at least in this moment.
Slowly she pulls away and shakely makes her way to the bed. Laying face down and keeping her back exposed. I don’t say anything about removing her shirt, knowing if she wanted it off she would have done so herself. I’ll let her keep that bit of privacy for now, but I will have her take it off once she’s rested for a fresh one.
Once I see she’s comfortable, I approach the bed with the basin. Making sure to talk to her and make my presence known so as to not send her into fright and make her hurt herself worse.
“Is it alright if I sit next to you love?” I wait for her to acknowledge me. This time in the form of a slow and shaky nod. I gently sit down on the edge of the bed next to her by her head. I see how she’s turned her face away from me, facing the door. I let her, knowing in due time she’ll come to me when she’s ready. Right now, my focus is on cleaning her wounds.
I squeeze the rag out as much as I can and gently approach her back.
“Are you ready?” I want to make sure she’s aware of the sting that’s bound to come. Again, another sniffle and shaky nod. I decided to start from the top down, knowing those by the waistband of her pants and lower back are bound to be deeper and more painful. Upon the first touch, I see and feel her stiffen, but she’s still quiet. It continues like that, the water in the basin slowly turning pink, then red.
By the time I’ve made my way down to the worst of it, she’s trembling, and the water is almost a dark red. As I approach and touch the deepest of wounds, she whimpers and finally turns her head to look at me. I stop, looking into her tear-stained eyes and once impeccable black eyeliner now barely visible.
“I’m almost done Nance, I promise, then you can rest and be rid of me.” I try to stay reassuring but I know she can see the look in my eyes. The concern that I have never been able to fully mask, never from her, never when it’s about her. She gives another shaky nod and I continue. Feeling her hand reach out to my thigh and squeeze at every painful wipe. I let her, knowing she needed something to hold onto. Finally, after what felt like millennia, I put the basin down and pushed it away.
“Okay my love, you’re all done. I’ll leave you to rest.” I lean down to press a kiss on her head and go to stand up. However, her hand on my thigh hasn’t let up it gets stronger, shocking coming from someone who looks as if she has none left. I look at her puzzled, and she simply stares at me for a moment, another tear falling and having me reach out to brush it away.
“Will…..” her voice is rough, dried out, and damaged from misuse and the noises from during the lashing.
“Will you stay with me, please Y/N? I don’t…. I don’t want to, I-I I can’t be alone right now. Please.” Her lip starts trembling again, and I still have my hand on her cheek, rubbing it gently and reassuringly.
“Of course Nancy, you know you never have to ask.” I give her a small and warm smile.
“You will have to let go of me for a minute though my love. I have to move to the other side of the bed since there’s not enough room for me over here.” She nods. Let’s go of my thigh and watches as much as she can of me moving to the other side of the bed. I crawl in next to her, letting her pull me as close as she wants with her hand. Once I settle, she rests her head on my shoulder, left arm wrapping as much as she comfortably can around my arm and I feel her trying to take in air. I keep my breathing even, trying to encourage her to match my breathing.
“Thank you Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you. What true love feels like and how to let someone in.” She whispers to me. I smile and turn to kiss the top of her head once more, squeezing the hand wrapped around mine.
“Of course Nancy. I love you too. Get some rest, my dear. I’ll be here when you wake.” She pries her head out of my shoulder and I see her try to lean in, so I meet her and place my lips gently upon hers. I feel her sigh of relief against mine. She pulls back and rests her head in the same spot.
“You promise?” I can hear the doubt in her voice, how small she feels at this moment.
“Of course my love. I will never break a promise to you.” I feel her smile on my neck.
“Rest. I’ll be here.” I feel her breathing start to even out, and I start humming a song. Nothing in particular, probably not even a real song, but something the two of us concocted together in a moment of comfort. Eventually, I feel her fall asleep, causing my eyes to start drooping too. I let sleep take me, knowing that while we have each other, feeling each other's breaths and heartbeats will keep the horror of what happened today at rest. Ready to face it in the morning. For now, though, we rest and know we have each other.
Always.