Abigail's Story
Abigail perched carefully on a rickety wooden stool in the corner of her room, waiting expectantly for her father's return from work. She knew little about his occupation, although, whatever it was, it was a matter of great interest to her, mainly due to his reluctance to tell her about it.
The front door burst open, and through it entered a tall, dark haired and rather handsome-looking man. He was carrying a large turkey along with a bundle of firewood, and looking particularly pleased with himself, on seeing Abigail's stern expression, Mr Williams' broad grin faded.
"Father", Abigail exclaimed, "you forgot. You forgot all about it, yet you walk through that door with a smirk on your face as if nothin' happened."
"I'm sorry Abby, but it seems that there's just no reasoning with that chap; Proctor has chosen Susanna for his service, and I'm afraid it's final, besides, you know we can't go back to Salem."
"Why?" Abigail demanded, her nostrils flaring in anger.
"I can't tell you, Abby; you're too young to understand"
"Try me," Abigail challenged, but she knew it was no use. There were many things that Abigail did not know about her parents- not just their occupation, and Mr Williams was not about to let it slip. Not without good reason.
It had not occurred to Mr and Goody Williams that Abigail might, contrary to their authority as her parents, leave in pursuit of an explanation that they would not give her: the reason why they were secretly adamant that she would not work for the Proctors; the reason why she was forced to live an isolated life, but above all, the reason why they would not confide any of this with her. Abigail's parents believed that she was an honest and trustworthy girl; they did not think that she would lie to them or concoct schemes behind their backs. Normally, Abigail would have felt guilty for betraying their trust, but if they did not trust her enough to confide in her, could she really trust them anyway?
After contemplating for a while upon this thought, Abigail had made up her mind: she was going to find out the truth. All she had to do now was to wait for the opportune moment to leave the house without her parents' knowledge. She would have to be patient though- she could not afford to risk failure. She knew that if she was caught, she would not get a second chance; her parents would be extra careful to not allow her another opportunity to begin her little expedition.
It was getting late, so Abigail decided to go to bed. As she lay on the itchy, straw mattress, she began to ponder upon her plans and the conversation she had had earlier on with her father, wondering what possible explanation her parents could have for choosing to conceal the truth from her. Abigail was wrestles, tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress for hours- she was too agitated to sleep.