A Country Divided : Through Blood United

The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln: The Play

In the carriage on the way to the theater, I glanced over at Abraham Lincoln who sat across from Johnathan and I. He was distantly glancing out the carriage window, his expression calm and solemn as usual.

I scrunched my eyebrows in sympathy for the man.

Heck, he had to run the United States, which was just torn in two. For four years, two sides of what used to be a whole nation ferociously fought against each other. Families against families. Friends against friends.

Evan versus me.

I sadly glanced at my friend who now touched hands with his wife. For almost every day, he was sent dozens of death threats from Northerners and Southerners alike. Every day of his presidency, Abraham Lincoln had the idea of death looming over him like a hazy bunch of storm clouds, ready to strike with the lightning of death over a President who bravely led our nation through four years of war.

Johnathan turned his head in my direction and wrapped a strong arm around my broad shoulders.

"What's got your mind all tangled up?" Johnathan said to me softly, making sure that Lincoln couldn't hear him.

I sighed and faced Johnathan, my expression dull. "I'm just worried about the President. He looks overwhelmed about going to the theater."

"Poor guy," Johnathan added. "Just leave him be with his thoughts, I don't want him to have a panic attack before he gets to the theater."

I nodded in defeat, knowing that Johnathan was most likely true about what he said. By leaving Lincoln be, I wouldn't be able to have him bring up his traumatic dreams that reminded him of his inevitable demise.

I leaned my head onto Johnathan's shoulder as we rode the rest of the way to the theater that Lincoln desperately wanted to go to. I slowly drifted off into a comfortable sleep in Johnathan's arms.

***

Ford's Theatre. The large building loomed over our small carriage, and a small wooden sign identified the building. I glanced outside as the President, Johnathan, and Major Rathbone exited the carriage.

Lincoln held out a gentle hand and kindly escorted his wife out of the carriage, her long pink dress complimenting her pale white skin. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail with a dozen ringlets of brown hair cascading down her shoulders.

I rolled my eyes. Women always try to copy my curly ringlets, but they look even more hideous than their original style of hair. I chuckled to myself at my snarky remark.

After Major Rathbone gladly helped his fiancé out of the carriage, her pale blue dress also complimenting her pale skin tone.

Why do people with pale skin look so good in every color? I asked myself when I glanced down at my tan hand.

"Hey, pretty lady" Johnathan muttered to me. "Ready to watch the play?"

"I'm ready as I'll ever be," I replied as I touched the pearl-handled gun that was hidden in my skirt.

Johnathan took my hand in his and rubbed his thumb along the sleeve of my dress on my wrist and then smiled to me.

I smiled politely in return and let Johnathan assist me down the stairs, which really helped me because my peg leg usually made me try harder to keep my balance when I walked.

Once my foot and peg finally safely touched the ground, Johnathan let go of my hand and instead wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

"Thanks for helping me down the stairs," I thanked Johnathan.