Disclaimer; I DO NOT OWN HAMILTON. ALL RIGHTS GO TO LIN MANUEL MIRANDA AND ANYONE ELSE WHO MIGHT OWN HAMILTON. I just simply create fanfics. (Speaking of, this is my very first one!) Let's see how it goes! This fanfic is about the Hamilton/Reynolds Affair. The POV switches from Hamilton to Maria, and vice versa; telling both sides of the story. The story can be graphic at some points, but not too gruesome. This is my interpretation of what happened:
Chapter 1- Means to Go On
Maria's POV
I came to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. James was in a bad mood (which was never good), so I decided to cook his favorite. Our relationship was not like most; instead of showering me with love and kissed, it was hurt and pain. He never thought of anyone but himself. We never acted as husband and wife. We even had separate bedrooms; even though most of the time I slept in his bed to fulfill his "desires". I wish things were different, I wish that he actually loved me.
I walked over to him, nervous about what he would do. "What do you want woman?" he asked. Terrified, I silently replied, "It's time for dinner, James. I cooked your favorite tonight." He sat at the table, and looked down at the plate. Disgusted, he threw the plate across the room. "YOU STUPID WENCH! I THOUGHT YOU COOKED MY FAVORITE; IT DOESN'T TASTE LIKE IT!" He started walking over to me, and I prayed that he would show me mercy. "I'm so sorry James. It's all my fault! I-I-I'll do better, I promi-" SLAP! He hit me across the face, I felt my cheek grow hot, and red. He hit me again, but this time he punched me. I felt a hand go to my throat; I suddenly could not breathe. "SHUT UP WOMAN! I don't want to hear your excuses!", he yelled in my ear. A few seconds later, he let go of my neck, and I let air fill my lungs. "Please James," I begged. "is there anything I can do for you to forgive me?" He looked up and smirked at me.
Stupid! I thought to myself. Why on earth would you say that Maria?! You know what he's going to do next! If you get pregnant, remember that it's your fault. "Actually Maria," he said, "there is something you can do to make it better." Oh no. Tears streaming down my face, I felt his tight grip on my arm. He all but dragged me into his room, and pushed me on the bed. "If dinner won't please me, this certainly will" he said. Sobbing and whimpering, I prayed that God would show me mercy and spare me from the hours to come.
He's gone. I woke up in an empty bed. James was gone, not that I was complaining. I went to the kitchen and found a letter on the table. By the time I come home next week, you better be out this house, wench. Go live on the street, that is until you learn how to cook dinner properly. I'm not surprised. This isn't the first time he's done this. I can survive this. In the meantime, I'll need some money to live off of. Hey, Alexander Hamilton lives a few blocks away, I thought to myself. Hopefully he'll help me.