Fear and Anger of a Mother

Would you believe me if I told you that I never wanted to sleep with Hamilton? That the affair on my part was nothing but a desperate act of a mother? For my darling little Susan. I may have deserved my husband's scorn and abuse but she didn't. She never did. I did my best to put myself in between James and Susan but I wasn't always there. And I wasn't always successful. So, when James gave me an opportunity to end Susan's suffering I jumped on it without a second thought, even if it meant I would spend my nights in another man's bed. And it did, for a while. I knew I shouldn't have trusted my husband, but I was desperate. I wanted to believe that if I just did this one thing that James would never raise a hand at Susan again, but he did. Of course he did. She was only six at the time, I'm not sure if she really understood what was going on. Why mommy went away some nights and didn't come back till the morning. I hope she didn't understand. But if she did, I hope she also understood that I was doing this to protect her, because I love her. I could ask her, but I'm too afraid of the answer. That was five years ago, my little angel is now eleven, and that bastard published our affair.

I will never forget that day. The day my daughter ran into the sitting room with tears streaming down her face. She didn't say a word as she handed me the pamphlet, the Reynolds Pamphlet. I just stood there frozen. I couldn't believe what I was reading. The sinful act I did to protect my daughter was just published for the whole country to read. At that moment I couldn't think of anything, but of my daughter. I didn't think of the backlash that my husband or I will face, only of the backlash my young daughter will now face. She will spend the rest of her life with her parent's acts hanging over her head for the world to see. That's not fair. To hell with James, to hell with me, my daughter didn't deserve this. I just threw the pamphlet onto the ground, got down on my knees, and hugged Susan to my chest as if to protect her from the world's scorn, and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I cried for my little Susan, for the hard life she will now have to face, for what I have done. I cried out of fear, of what James will do once he returns home. And I was right to be afraid. James came home screaming and red in the face. He grabbed me by the hair, called me things no child should ever hear her mother being called, and started to beat me. Now I've been beaten by my husband before, but not like this. After the beating I just laid there, and I cried. I just laid there, feeling nothing, numb. I don't know how long I would have laid there, If I hadn't heard Susan begin to scream.

I looked up to see my husband beating on my daughter. Her screams and pleads doing nothing to prevent her own father's violent acts against her. All her life I have tried everything I could to keep her safe and happy. To hear her screams is a sharp reminder of how many times I have failed her, of how I'm failing her right now. Through my marriage I have become very familiar with fear. I felt fear the first time my husband raised his hand. I felt fear when I held my baby girl, knowing there is little I can do to protect her. I felt fear the first time my husband raised his hand against her. I felt fear when I knocked on a strange man's door. I felt fear when he burst into my house after my husband sent him that letter. I felt fear when I held my daughter as I waited for my husband to come home. I was expecting to feel fear now. But I didn't. I didn't feel fear, I felt anger. Red hot burning anger coursed through my veins as I watched my daughter getting hurt. How dare he. How dare he be angry at me when this whole scandal was his doing. How dare he be angry at Susan when she had nothing to do with this in the first place. This is his fault, his doing, and yet he is angry at us. Well now I'm angry, and I'm finally going to put a stop to Susan's fear and hurt, for good.

I stood up, with energy I didn't know I had, and I ran into the kitchen. I could hear James's cruel laugh as I ran away, not knowing just where I was going. I ran into the kitchen and I grabbed the largest kitchen knife we had. For a moment I stood there and stared at the blade. I saw my reflection in the shiny metal and I wondered if this was the right choice. But then Susan called out for me, and my mind was made. I ran into the sitting room and without a moment's notice I stabbed him in the back. I didn't give him a chance to react as I just stabbed him over, and over, and over again. I could hear his screams of pain and I could feel the blood splattering onto my face, but I didn't care. For the entirety of our marriage he has made sure that all I felt was constant pain and fear, and now I was returning the favor. I don't know how many times I stabbed him, but eventually he went limp from what I presume was blood loss. I didn't wait to check if he was dead, I just dropped the knife and ran upstairs. At some point Susan must have fled upstairs and I found her in my bedroom. Before I could call her name she ran up and hugged my blood stained dress, asking shakily if we were safe. I felt tears of relief well up in my eyes as I said yes, but we need to go. The next few hours are just a blur. I have blurry memories of quickly changing dresses and even more quickly packing bags for me and Susan. I then went to the secret loose floorboard in our room where the money is hidden and took everything. Thankfully, James was too prideful to use a bank so almost all of our wealth was stashed in the house. It was more than enough to get two tickets to Europe and to live a quaint yet comfortable life. It wasn't until we were on a boat willing to sail us to Europe under such short notice that I finally fully looked at my daughter. Her face was badly bruised and I could see my husband's handprint on her right wrist. I hadn't been able to look at myself yet but I imagine I didn't look much better. That's most likely why the captain of this ship was willing to let us come aboard, all he saw was an abused mother and daughter trying to flee. We made eye contact and I could see the pain and fear in her eyes, but also the relief. We hugged as the ship sailed us to safety, and a new life. A few months later the small village in France where me and Susan made our new home got wind on the murder of James Reynolds in America. And if anyone in the small village connected the on the run Maria Reynolds and the missing girl Susan Reynolds to the two battered newcomers Maria and Susan Lewis, then no one said a thing.