July 19, 1692

I was awoken by the door of my cell being thrown open by the Marshal, who roughly picked me up.

"John Proctor's confessing, come with me," he said gruffly.

"John wouldn't confess," I said hoarsely, surprised by the weakness of my own voice. "He hasn't done nothin' wrong."

"Well, he's confessing, and maybe him confessing will convince you to confess too."

He picked me up, my knees trembling from a combination of fatigue and old age, we heard a cry from down the hall, "Marshal! Hurry!" from Mr. Parris. As we neared the cell they were keeping John in, the muttering of voices became clearer.

I heard Mr. Danforth, the deputy governor saying, "Did you see the Devil?" Then, I must have heard wrong, I thought I heard John say, "I did", but he couldn't have. John is one of the most honest men I know. He wouldn't consort with the Devil, nor lie about any such thing.

Again, I heard Mr. Danforth saying, "And did he bid you to do his work upon the earth?", and I heard John again, "I did." There was no emotion in his voice, like he had already died. We turned the corner, me still being supported by Marshal Herrick.

Mr. Danforth looked up at me, a smug grin on his self-righteous face. "Come in, come in, woman"

I looked at John; this wasn't the man I knew three months ago. His clothes were ratty and stained his hair unkempt and matted, but there was something in his eyes that made me know he was alive and well. "Ah, John," I said with a cheery brightness, attempting to lighten the dreary mood in the room, "I see you're well them, eh?" He did not respond, but turned to the wall, hiding his face from me.

Mr. Danforth turned back to John, and in a cheerful voice said, "Courage, man, courage-let her witness your good example that she may come to God herself. Now hear it, Goody Nurse!" Me? They thought getting a false confession from John would get one out of me too? He turned back to John, "Say on, Mr. Proctor. Did you bind yourself to the Devil's service?"

I was shocked beyond words. How could they accuse John of consorting with the Devil? "Why John!" I cried. They couldn't do this to him.

He turned away again, his voice conveying the pain it caused him to say, "I did."

Danforth's grin was too much. He knew that John wasn't telling the truth, he just wanted this false confession for his own benefit. He turned his eyes on me, and for a moment, I thought I saw the Devil peering at me through those falsely sincere blue eyes. "Now, woman, you surely see it profit nothin' to keep this conspiracy any further. Will you confess yourself with him?"

This was too much, to get John to confess to this lie, but then trying to indicate others? "Oh, John-" I said with sorrow in every syllable, "God send his mercy on you!"

Danforth's face was lined with outrage; hate etched in his every feature. "I say, will you confess yourself, Goody Nurse?"
"Why it is a lie, it is a lie; how may I damn my self? I cannot, I cannot." The small cell wavered before my eyes. As if in another world I heard disembodied voices discussing the devil. Danforth asked Proctor who he had seen with the devil, when and where. Proctor replied that he had not seen anyone, even though others had testified against us. People claimed they had seen Bridget Bishop, Martha Corey and my sister, Mary Easty with the devil. As my ears and eyes refocused, Danforth was shouting at Proctor, holding out a pen. "

"Come, man sign it!"

John glanced at the paper, "You have witnessed it-it is enough."
"You will not sign it?"
"You have all witnessed it; what more is needed?"

"Do you sport with me? You will sign your name or it is no confession, Mister!"

Then John did the worst thing he could have done: He signed the confession. He could have just signed his soul away. My heart wept for him, but I had no strength for tears. I just watched. Mr. Danforth reached out to collect the confession, but John snatched it away.

Danforth reached out to him, his hand extended like a claw, "If you please, sir."

Proctor looked up at him, a fire in his eyes, "No."

Danforth extended his hand once more, "Mr. Proctor, I must have-"

"No, no. I have signed it. You have seen me. It is done! You have no need for this." He shook the paper bearing his name.

Danforth was angry now, through gritted teeth, he said, "Proctor, the village must have proof that-"

"Damn the village!" Proctor exploded, "I confess to God and God has seen my name on this! It is enough."

My heart swelled for John, maybe there was some hope for him after all. We may all be condemned to hang, but at least we go with a clear conscience.

John was up on his feet, his eyes ablaze with fury, "You will not use me!" He shouted at Danforth, "I am no Sarah Good or Tituba, I am John Proctor! You will not use me! It is no part of salvation that you should use me!"

"I do not wish to-"

"I have three children…" The children! What would happen to the children if John hanged? I looked to the corner and saw Elizabeth for the first time. Her eyes were shadowed and sunken; her cheeks were waxy from lack of daylight. I smiled at her from across the room, and she sent a wan smile.

"Don't worry about me," her eyes said, "John and I will be alright."

"The children," I asked without words, "What will happen to the children?"

Her eyes widened for a moment, then turned back to John, who was still yelling at Mr. Danforth, "No, it is not the same! What others say and what I sign are not the same!"
"Why?" Danforth asked suspiciously, "Do you mean to deny this confession when you are free?"

John lowered his head and whispered, "I mean to deny nothing."

"Then explain to me, Mr. Proctor," Danforth said with the air of legality, "why you will not let-"

But what John wouldn't let him do, I never found out. John let out a scream of a tortured man being whipped for the last time, "Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name." His voice was tired and weary.

Danforth was affronted; his shaking hand pointed at the paper in John's, "Is that document a lie?" He whispered almost inaudibly, "If it is a lie, I will not accept it! What say you? I will not deal in lies, Mister! You will give me your honest confession in my hand, or I cannot keep you from the rope!" A small gasp was heard from Elizabeth across the room. "What way do you go Mister?"

John looked at the paper in his hand, one way, he lost his name, his dignity; the other way, he lost his life. A conflict raged for a split second behind his eyes, and then he tore up the paper, scraps fluttering to the ground like newly fallen snow. John wept silently, tears coursing down his rough cheek.

Danforth looked confused, like a startled deer. Then he regained his composure, "Marshal!" And for the first time since we had entered the cell, I remembered that Marshal Herrick was holding me up. He released me, and I staggered against the wall, before regaining my composure. Now our time had come.

Reverend Parris looked quite mad, staring at the pieces of paper on the ground. He cried, "Proctor, Proctor!" as Reverend Hale shouted, "Man, you will hang! You cannot!"

Proctor looked at him, "I can," he said calmly, "And there's your first marvel that I can. You have made your magic now, for now I do think I see some shred of goodness in John Proctor. Not enough to weave a banner with, but white enough to keep it away from such dogs." Elizabeth broke her trance, and ran weeping to her husband. John grabbed her about the waist and said to her, "Give them no tear! Tears pleasure them! Show honor now, show a stony heart and sink them with it!" He lifted her off her feet and kissed her in front of the entire room.

"Let you fear nothing!" I said to the two of them, "Another judgment waits us all!" I smiled at them to bolster their hope, for our journey, though it was a short one, was going to be difficult.

Danforth was beside himself with rage, "Hang them high over the town! Who weeps for these, weeps for corruption!" And with that, he strode out of the cell with a grandiose sweep of his cloak.

Marshal Herrick ushered John and I to the door, but again, my strength left me. The ground rushed toward me, but I felt two steady hands catch me. I glanced up to see John looking at me, his face lined with worry.

"I've had no breakfast," I said, and with his help, I got to my feet, and walked out of the cell.

Herrick beckoned to John, who gave one last look at his wife before turning his back on her and the life he had known. As we walked through the dank corridors of the prison, John turned to me, "So this is it. The end."

"No John," I said as we walked out the doors of the prison, "Just the start of a different life."
The newly risen sun painted the town square in shades of red and orange. Though the air was bitterly cold, there was a sizeable mob gathered around the gallows. Two nooses were strung up on the platform of death. There stood Mr. Danforth as well as Judge Hathorne. We mounted the platform and faced the crowd, the sun warming out backs. A drum was being beaten somewhere near the platform

Judge Hathorne stepped forward. "Rebecca Nurse and John Proctor," he said, "you have been charged with the crime of witchcraft. Is this true?"

"Aye," I said in a hoarse voice. John nodded.

"And how do you plead to these charges?"

"Not guilty," I said, my voice gaining strength.

"Not guilty," said John.

The executioner placed the nooses around my and John's necks, the coarse rope scratching my throat. Judge Hathorne cleared his throat, "The evidence of the court disproves these pleas, and since you both refuse to confess, your sentence is that you shall hang by your neck until you are dead. May God have mercy on your souls." The drumbeat came to a crescendo, and then stopped.

There was a brief second where nothing happened, I looked out into the crowd, and saw at the edge of the crowd, Abigail Williams in a green hooded cloak. Her cold eyes made contact with mine, and she smiled a curious smile. Then I felt the platform under my feet drop and the rope tighten around my neck. I gasped as I felt my throat constrict from the rope and from fear. The scene in front of me started to grow fuzzy, but I managed to see Abby turn around and start walking west toward the horizon.

Black spots appeared in front of my eyes as I felt the air in my lungs become less and less. I was dying. It didn't bother me, I was going elsewhere. I was going to a better place. The ringing in my ears grew louder, and just before I lost all thought, I remembered that I had left the front door unlocked before they had taken me. I hope Francis locked it. And with that last thought, everything went black.