Summary: Below the oak tree where she hung was a letter that explained why...
Rated PG-13 for suicide and mature themes.
AN: Please note that this is not historically accurate nor did anything to my knowledge like this actually take place. The Crucible is the work of Mr. Arthur Miller and therefore not mine. Please review.
Final Condemnation
She hung from a sturdy rope around the lowest branch of the ancient oak tree. Her limp form was most certainly dead; the noose tightly around her neck. Underneath the tree, weighed down with a stone so it would not be carried away with the wind, was a slightly smudged letter....
Dear friends, family, acquaintances, and even those who detest me,
The cows roam freely in the pastures now, lost and forlorn, having no right place to turn. Small children hide beneath tree leaves as they seek shelter from the storm. The town is cold with the human compassion that does not exist here; icy from bitter accusations. We are but a bleak reminder of horror. There is no shred of light to lead us away from the darkness that overwhelmed Old Salem Town; we are but frozen in a heatless time. Salem is a ruined town and I am a shattered person. I took the simple way out from the mammoth bolder and the small cramped place I was put within and I do regret it. I do regret what I have done; I do carry shame.
I never meant to purposefully harm Mr. Proctor and I never wished devastation upon the man in any way. I by no means ever truthfully thought he was a cohort with the Devil, but I proclaimed as such nevertheless. I have my immense burdens that lounge heavily upon my back and I know they will never leave me in peace, for I have made a weighty error; I have not righted my wrongs. It is too late for that, for I have indulged in sin and can never correct my large corruption. It is too late to bring a good man back to life. I am but a soul with no hope for redemption. I am only waiting in fear for what may come and now it has finally arrived.
I have been pushed into a corner by my own fears and sentenced others to death because of it. I am not a person to pity, I am not a person to love, I am but a woman who has made a vast mistake, and one that shall always remain erroneous.
My task in the Proctor household was very simple; follow orders and mind to my own thoughts, which I had always pursued until the end ... when something happened that I let occur. I watched in silence as Mr. Proctor slowly trailed away from Goody Proctor. I had but looked on when Mr. Proctor left the home occasionally with an almost hungry look on his face. I watched as Goody Proctor watched, knowing what was happening, and making no move to stop it out of her love. I watched in silence as Mr. Proctor slowly turned away from his loving wife and instead turned to a whore.
Goody Proctor confessed to me from time to time her suspicions, always making sure first that Mr. Proctor was far from earshot when she felt inclined to do so. Goody Proctor believed that she had been the one who led Mr. Proctor to temptation and not Abby whose wish was plainly to dance with him upon her grave. I still do not know why she believed this so strongly, why she thought herself was to blame for Mr. Proctor's adulterous decision. Perhaps Goody Proctor thought herself distant from Mr. Proctor or perhaps it was her performance to please him she thought was unsuccessful. I do not know why a woman as kind as Goody Proctor could ever dream such things, but of course I am not an honest woman like Goody Proctor.
Mr. Proctor did believe in goodness even though he confessed to sin. He was not a bad man, but one who had gotten lost in the tangle of others lies. He is gone now, gone because what I had proclaimed, dead because of me and solely me, no longer alive because I tried to save only myself from destruction. This is what plagues me the most. I sent a man to death to save my own hide. I handed in another's life to protect my own. I am but a coward, pitiless woman. I have come to know this more than ever.
There is no longer a place for me on this earth. I no longer deserve to live and carry on with life as all the other goodhearted people do. I am not worthy, I am not honest, I am not kind, and from my actions I believe I hardly qualify as human. If I am burning in the fiery pits of Hell now it is what I deserve. I am guilty of my sins and I will take the consequences for eternity. It is what I deserve.
I suppose I am writing this letter as a confession to my own sins, to tell the truth of others, and to explain why I am no longer alive. All of this amounts to the fact that I am not worthy to breathe. I have sent others to their deaths and I deserve the same fate. I have taken that fate. Death is my final condemnation.
Most Sincerely and Forever,
Mary Warren