One.
I sat silently as we crossed the Hudson. It wasn't my first duel, but it might be my last.
Two.
I had brought the doctor. I'd also brought Pendleton to be my second. We exchanged a glance. He looked sad.
Three.
We got out of the boats and I stared around, solemn. To think, we were here tonight because I had said the wrong thing. It was my fault. I had yet to say sorry. Perhaps I should have.
Four.
I remembered back when I was required to hold a gun. I hardly missed. I wouldn't have to now, if I wanted.
Five.
Philip had been shot here. It was my fault he didn't get his own hit in. I told him to aim away.
Six.
I held the gun carefully, examining the trigger. It was easy to pull. A clean shot.
Seven.
I'd done many things wrong, as much as I'd hate to admit it. I'm sorry, Eliza, for what I put you through. I'm sorry, Burr, for endorsing Jefferson. I'm sorry, Washington, for leaving this country unfinished.
Eight.
Van Ness and Pendleton walked forward, speaking quietly to each other. Burr and I made eye contact. He looked scared.
Nine.
As the seconds moved away, we got in position. We watched each other. We aimed. And we took our steps.
Ten.
We turned. My gun was pointed up.
Raise a glass to freedom.