Again, and again, endlessly, she washed her hands, wishing the blood would be gone when she would open her eyes. The reddish color, pouring in the bowl, the carmine thread slowly turning the water into a bloody cup, was haunting her. She may not sleep anymore, she may not find peace again laying in this bed, in the Royal suite next to the "King", where she organized her crimes, drowning her in her sins, she may not forget those guilty invasive thoughts ruining her mind.
So, she opened her eyes, one last time, to see if the proof of her guilt had vanished from her hands… She saw nothing but her pale white, ruined by the uncountable times she tried to wash away her sins. But she felt like the decayed blood of Duncan was still there, into her skins, in each pore, in every ridge of her skin.
"The Queen has gone mad!" cried the chambermaids, looking for useless doctors. She has not gone mad, she was insane since ages now.
No one was able to tell if she was awake or not, if she was conscious or in a silly dream, but she knew that it had to end. Not by scrubbing her hands in the water yet, she had to end her uncontainable thoughts.
Finally, she had everything she wanted! She was a queen, she had power, but the only one that she wanted to use right now was to be able to end her torment… Who would think that she would use her power to end just like all the subject she was governing could do? Notice the irony.
In a desperate moment, end her life shortly appeared in her mind, the king was not here, this feeble stupid man was fighting his enemies. Men do not learn.
She raised him, she made him! This coward would not be a King right now without her! Why did she feel guilty? She was the one who took the decision, she was strong, powerful, and endlessly full of charm. In a way, she was the one carrying the sword… That is why she was so guilty of her husband's crimes. He was the one to say it, she has a man's soul in a woman's body. It was her strength. Unlike the rest of the women, she could take decisions without being affected by her feelings or things like that, she could be as cold as ice, and as strong as rock. Her real affliction was to be a woman.
Suddenly, everything went fast. She took the chest which was at the feet of her Royal Bed, and taking the long rope serving to attach the velvet curtains, she throwed this rope across the beam. Even if her hands were shaking, her eyes soaked in her desperate tears, and her breath was heavy, she tied a loop knot… She knew how to do it, she saw it multiple times during the executions, she was smart.
Why, did she right now, let her emotions lead her? No one would ever know… Guilt? Fear? Deception? Despair? Lunacy? Was not it against her nature we said earlier? The human mind is crooked… You may not subdue it.
As she passed the knot past her neck, she had a little moment of hesitation. What if she asked for mercy? If she became a nun, God may forgive her trespass… is not he merciful?
At a moment, no one knows why, she slipped from the chest that maintained her.
Where a good knot should have break her neck, as she so it multiple times, her was not professional one.
Maybe we can call it fate? Destiny? When she suffocated, she regretted everything. Her weakness, her husband, her plans to kill Duncan, the fact that she let the King kill her children… everything came back. In an instinct of survival, she tried to reach the chest, but she just pushed it away with her feet… she tried to untie the knot around her throat, but she just clenched it even more. Slowly, her pale skin changed into different shades of colors. First, she turned red, then purple and finally, when the last respiration proceeded in her lungs, when she could not see through her tears, and when her throat made no sound anymore, she turned blue.
"The Queen has gone ma… The Queen is gone!" heard one last time the Machiavellian Lady Macbeth.