TW: mentions of killing, miscarriage, homophobia, and the church

My head rests on the guillotine, hearing the yells of the crowds, sensing the cruel smile of the Killer who stands with the ax next to me. My husband is with his mistress no doubt. I let my past fill my head as I try to slip into a new place that isn’t this death trap.

…

The smell of blood from my child who died at the dinner table, blood falling from between my legs and onto the floor under the table. My husband doing nothing but shaming me as I stood in our bedroom, blood covered my dress and hands. He said I was a failure.

A brunette maid who I’d loved since were both girls, hidden in the darkness of my room and my large bed, the other side empty because my husband visited his mistress. The sounds of soft moans as the maid had her head between my legs, the same space where my child had died. Her head on my chest as we fell asleep holding each other. She whispered that I was brave and so loved by her.

Being caught with her the next morning, seeing her being dragged out, neck covered in marks where we’d made our love. Her screams filling the halls. My mother looking at me with disgust and disappointment. My husband dragging me to church to confess of my sins.

I did no such thing.

…

****

**I close my eyes and allow the ax to hit my neck, trying to not focus on the pain. Only on the sweet lips of my lover, her soft skin and her hushed breaths against my neck as I slip my hand between her legs.**

…

Screaming at my husband through the bars of my cell as he shamed me and yelled that the church would never forgive me for this sin. The guards dragging me up to the platform where my death is to be witnessed. My lover did not have the same type of death; she was killed brutally and no one watched her death, so I suppose she still has some dignity left.

I am at peace in death. I will see my child and my lover. I do not want this world anymore who shamed me simply for being a woman in love and in grief.