**Anne-Marie Willis was dying.**

**Sat up Ride in bed, lent against a pile of strategically placed pillows,an old woman slowly paged through a scrapbook done up with obvious Care. Absently flipping over each page with equal reverence, Anne-Marie let her mind wander down the lanes of memories long since past. never more proud of the life that she had lived, more so now, now that she knew her time was almost up. She had had a good life. Sure, there had been ups and downs, but overall, Her life had been wonderful. blessed as she was with five wonderful children, a lap full of grandchildren, and a great grandson on the way, she couldn’t have asked for more.**

**Had it really been 50 years?**

**Aged eyes caught on one photo in particular, one of the few she hadn’t been able to bring herself to get rid of. it was old. One of the oldest in the book. Depicting a man of average build with dark brown hair, even darker eyes and a squared jaw.. he was sat on a porch swing long since thrown out, with her eldest daughter sat upon his lap. Louisa had been to in the photo, looking every bit like her daddy, and both looked happy. they had been happy, she had known that for certain, and she had been just as certain that that was the last happy day they would have as a family.**

**Anne-Marie had been 16 when she’d first met Arthur Mitchell. A strong, 22-year-old boy from out of town, hired to help work her daddy‘s farm. He had been charming, far to charming, and she had been oh so young. naïve. willing to eat up the pretty words of a handsome man that seemed interested in her. **Interested in the Quiet, socially awkward girl that she had been. No one noticed her, except for him, and the had made her an easy target. Of course she hadn’t thought of it that way in the beginning.

In the beginning they had been happy.

In the beginning, they had been in love.

At least she had.

at least before they’d been wed.

They were married two weeks after her 18th birthday, and it hadn’t even been been another two when he had first shown his true colors. Arthur had been a drunk. A mean one at that, and not opposed to using his fists when words failed him. which they often did. Frequently leaving holes in the walls of their small home, the doors off their hinges, and many of their meager possession smashed. The only good to come out of it being that, in the early days when he had come home drunk, he hadn’t once hit her.

That was, up until their second daughter had been born.

Arthur had wanted a son and when Deborah had been born, he had seen it as a betrayal on Anne-Marie‘s part. like she had purposely given him a second daughter to spite him. like she had ruined his life. Like she had stolen aweigh his dream of having the chance to raise a boy to grow up to be just like him. Like she had stolen away his chance at a legacy. not that there had been much of a legacy to give in the first place.

The first time he had hit her, it had been the day after she had gotten home from the hospital after giving birth to their youngest. it had blindsided her, coming out of nowhere, and leaving her sprawled on the ground. She had gone into shock, the only thing running through her mind besides the question of what just happened, being that she was grateful that she had already put the girls down for the night. That Louisa didn’t have to see her daddy punching her mommy in the face. That she didn’t have to explain things to her inquisitive toddler for the time being. After all, how could she explain it to a toddler, when she couldn’t explain it to herself. Especially since Arthur hadn’t been forthcoming, leaving her on the floor, grunting that he would be out for the night and not to wait up. she didn’t. Choosing to lock herself up tight in her daughters room., As she tried to figure out what to do next.

When Arthur came back, things were different.

He wasn’t hitting walls anymore.

And she had developed an appreciation for make up.

Anne-Marie Often times wonders how long she would’ve remained a battered wife had it not been for her brother, Joshua, quickly coming to the realization that something was different between the two. which was a feet in itself, due to Arthur having long since isolated her away from her family. A slow but effective manipulation tactic that had left her unable to see or talk to her family for long stretches of time. Only ever seeing her family, when Arthur had been willing to take her and the girls into town. Not for lack of trying on her brothers and parents part. it had just been a difficult. situation back then, or at least, that’s what she told herself. things were hard now, but they would get better.

they had too.

And they would.

Because Joshua was eagle eyed.

Because Joshua had seen the bruises.

Because Joshua had told their daddy and their elder brothers.

Because they had had a plan.

It was common knowledge in there Small town that her husband often went on Benders, leaving her and their young daughters at home for days at a time. so when Arthur Mitchell had come up missing, no one had put much stock into it. automatically assuming that. sour face man had finally done it, had finally abandoned his small family and gotten the hell out of town. some assumed that he had a mistress. in the city over. Some assumed it was drugs. Others assumed he was running from the law. But no one could’ve guessed what really happened.

Or maybe they could have, had they known.

It had been a cold November night, the night, Arthur Mitchell had been killed. And it hadn’t actually been her brothers to do the deed. It had been Anne-Marie herself. Anne-Marie who had been pushed past the breaking point after her husband had forced himself upon her. Anne-Marie who had gotten the gun. Who had pressed the muzzle of the 12 gauge to the temple of her pasdout husband and had pulled the trigger. And it was a paled faced Anne-Marie who’d opened the door to the small home, when there had been harsh, knocking upon it at midnight. Her eyes wide as she took in the site of her three brothers and their daddy. All of which held weapons at the ready. All of which were more than prepared to kidnap her and her daughters from their home while they did the deed. All of which hugged her with grim satisfaction when she had confessed to them of what she had done, all the while sobbing into her daddy’s chest

Arthur Mitchell had been buried in an unmarked grave. an unmarked grave that. resided in the woods that populated part of her familiesland. an unmarked grave that was often thought about, but never spoken of.

It would take a month for Louisa to stop asking about her daddy.

It would take barely a year for the town to forget about him.

It would be within two years that Anne-Marie would meet the true love of her life.

A year after that they would be married.

And two years after that, she would birth him a son.

And then another and another.

Anne-Marie Had never told her Jackson of what had happened to her first husband. Never felt that she needed to. But now, as she feels her body begin to fail her, she feels that it’s finally time to unburden her sins. Unfair as it might be to him, realizing that he spent the last 50 years married to a killer. she hopes ardently that he’ll understand. that he’ll at least tolerate her if he cannot accept her for what and who she is.

Anne-Marie closed the scrapbook.

Later that night, when she spills her secrets to Jackson, he replies with two words.

“I know.”