I am currently reading Macbeth for school and find it a lot more interesting than I had thought I would. I present to you the diary of Lady Macbeth soon after Duncan's murder.
A Human Heart
I almost cannot believe what we have done. Duncan lies dead and there is no going back now. I was ready to do it; truly I was – if that wretched king had not reminded me of my father I should have stabbed him to death without mercy. It was only the foolish sentiment of a weak woman that prevented me from achieving the ultimate victory.
My husband is worried. I can feel it when his hand brushes mine, when I see the look in his eyes. He tries to smile, but he cannot deceive me: he is afraid. Our conversation is stilted, for we cannot talk of the deed, yet our minds are brimming with what may come to pass.
I wish he would not fret so, my dear husband, for it is not fitting for such a great thane to be so cowardly. I myself have renounced remorse, so why cannot he? Soon, soon I will be Queen and all my troubles will be at an end. The man is unhinged if he cannot look to the glorious future that awaits us, instead of always looking to our not-so-glorious past.
Why is it that I cannot stop dreaming of that night? By day I am far stronger than my husband, able to control my emotions, so am able to chastise him without feeling any semblance of grief. Yet by night… By night it is a different story.
I can see the king lying in his borrowed bed, blood coating his face. Even if I live to a great age I shall not be able to forget his face in my nightmares. Hallucinations dazzle my closed eyelids and I retreat to a place where monsters howl and the very demons of hell lick at the soles of my feet with tongues so cold and merciless that I can feel the life draining out of my body as they leer at my fits of terror.
Some women are born to kill, and perhaps I am one of them. I could be the madwoman who slaughters her children, the victim of a robbery who tortures the thieves inventively with the items they have stolen.
My deepest deliriums are frightening, I admit that, but what makes them even more chilling is that I find a reflection of myself in the demons that chase me. One will have my eyes, the other – my beckoning fingers or my smile. I cannot bear to look in a mirror anymore for fear of what I might see. They say that witches in disguise view themselves as ugly hags when they view their images, perhaps the same is true for me.
There are many ways a woman can kill herself, some of them more painful than others, yet I shall not use any for now. Kiss me goodbye, those who love me, for soon I shall be your queen.
Only the act of murder an tear a human heart in two.