Nancy waited. It was near suppertime, and Bill had not shown. "No surprise." Nancy thought, "He did say late after all."

Three hours later, dinner was on the table, and Bill strode in, sweaty and grungy like normal. Bill lay out his coat and sat down. He ripped at the food, flung his fork down, and went to bed.

Curiosity is a woman's worst fault, and Nancy was as curious as they come. After dinner when Bill was in bed, She stared over at Bill's favorite duster and looked long and hard. She noticed stains on his jacket and was enticed by curiosity.

She reached out to touch them, to figure out what it was, but a club knocked her wrist swiftly back. With a wince she looked into the eyes of the holder.

There was Bill, his 'gorgeous' brown eyes as she said long ago now looked black, and were cold as frost.

"Now what, my girl, were you thinkin of jus now?" He snapped with what sounded like a growl.

"I was…going to wash your coat. It's awful dirty and I was-" but he cut her off with a grip on her wrist.

"I know you, girl. You're a liar. I don't need that kind of trash, he began to raise his voice, " now you tell me what you're doing!" he screamed at her.

She slapped him and avoided his grasp as she headed to the closet and locked herself in.

"Open this door!" Bill jostled the door with anger.

"I say open this door or I won't be botherin you whore no more!"

Nancy huddled in the back, hiding in all the coats and clothes.

She screamed back, echoing his frustration, "I won't let you treat me this way, Bill! I won't let ya!"

He began pounding on the door, the rusty hinges heaving with each shove. Nancy got ready for a deadly blow, but it didn't come. "Open this door, Nance or I promise you… you won't be dealin with me no more!"

Nancy fought the tears as she delt with rage. "Wear's the body Bill?" She spoke calmly, herself teetering on the edge of frustration. Her voice had a hint of disgust with a mixture of sadness. "Why do wenches always be snoopin where they shouldn't be. What makes you so sure-huh?" He yelled, but with less intensity. His rage seemed to be cooling down, but Nancy knew better.

"I saw blood on your jacket Bill. I'm smart enough to know that, and I'm smart enough to know what I am." She said in the same manner.
"I did Nancy…I did. Don't mean I feel sorry for it, either. It wasn't the first time, you know that."

No matter how long Nancy knew him, Bill was always unpredictable. That was one thing she liked about him. But it could also be a bad thing.

He seemed to calm down and she crept out slowly. Warily she walked up to him, ready to apologize for her behavior.

Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and gave it a tug so that she could look into his cold, unloving eyes and see the murderer. "You won't be tellin no one, ya hear, woman." He grasped harder, "Cause if you do, you know what could happen."

Nancy couldn't know any more than she already did. He repeatedly reminded her that she was a low class whore who didn't know how quickly he could kill her. She didn't see the murderer. All she saw was the man that was hers. In his eyes she didn't see death, but love. Maybe not from his eyes, but she knew she loved him.

"I won't Bill, you know that!" Nancy belted as she cried out from pain. He released his hold on her, and she watched him warily as he walked back to their bed.

As soon as she heard him snore, she grabbed her journal. This time she turned to a page that was a turning point in her relationship with Bill. The first time he hit her.

January 21, 1876

After supper today, a terrible thing happened! Bill struck me right across my cheek! I couldn't believe what he did at first because it just wasn't like him. I guess I was asking too many questions because that's when he got annoyed and just hit me. That look in his eyes…I don't hope to make him angry again. Now I am a 'lil scared of him.

I turn 11 soon! They have given everyone the day off-and they even got a cake. (Probably stolen, but it don't matter.)

Love,

Nancy

Nancy shuddered, remembering the shock that went along with the painful slap that went with it. She turned again, quicker and almost desperately to the next most memorable page-the time he first killed someone.

August 14, 1879

Bill has killed someone! A man came in here and accused him of it. It was awful. We had to switch lodgings real fast all the way to a run down ex-laundromat. Its not so bad. The view is actually nice when the sun sets.