Anna sat in her back pew, praying. If she prayed to be cleansed, she would be cleansed. If she prayed for forgiveness she would be forgiven. Christ had died for everyone's sins.

The snake reared his head.

Anna breathed, tried again. It was becoming harder and harder to drive the thoughts from her own brain and lately the flashes of horrid memory were popping up at exactly the wrong moments. It was distracting. She would be in the middle of a conversation, or writing something, or thinking something through and there he would be again and she would be alone again with him. Her heart would pound frantically, as if it was trying to escape her body. She would try to find a corner to hide, to let it pass. But she never knew when these little attacks were coming. And she knew that no one would understand. It was over. It had been over. She had no reason for all this, as far as the world was concerned.

Then a horrid thought came: if she had been forgiven, if God had forgiven her, then why did she still have these thoughts?

Was it because she wanted them, in some dark corner of wickedness she had never known about? Why else would they keep coming? It must be her doing it, her own self. They must be her fault.

Her heart sank.

If that was true, then she had never been good. She had been stained all along, and was only finding out now.

This brought on a storm of anguish. Anna kept her head low as she weathered it, not rocking so as not to draw attention. She finally gathered herself and realized that she would be late. She bustled her coat on in a panic and ran for Downton.

Anna clipped past the kitchen, looking for Mrs. Hughes. There was John, ensconced in the hallway; out of habit he still lingered. She breathed past her irritation. He meant well and sometimes she did want him there, when no one else was downstairs. But sometimes she wanted him to go away. By being there he reminded her of all of it, all of her failings.

He smiled at her, that charming smile that used to her knees turn to water. She smiled back as best she could. Then the snake smiled. Anna shook it off.

"Have you seen Mrs. Hughes?" she asked him.

"I thought she was making arrangements for the trip to the dressmaker with Lady Mary,"

Anna frowned.

"But I've already-" now Anna had to stop and think. She spun on her heel and headed up the stairs. Mrs. Hughes was in Lady Mary's bedroom.

"Some of the new fashions will require different care. There are so many new fabrics now-" Lady Mary was saying from her seat at her vanity. Mrs Hughes stood just inside the door; she turned to Anna.

Lady Mary and Mrs. Hughes now paused, looking at her in silence. Anna waited a beat before saying, "Sorry to interrupt,"

"Would you leave us, Mrs. Hughes?" said Lady Mary.

"Begging your pardon, My Lady," Anna waited until Mrs. Hughes had shut the door, which made her heart sink just a little. "Has my work not been satisfactory lately?" This was a creeping little fear that Anna had shut out of her mind, but now she must face it. "Have I forgotten something?"

Lady Mary sighed. "It's only been the stray detail here or there. And no one blames you, Anna. After what you've been through-"

"But what-" Anna caught herself, calmed and softened her tone, "But...what have I forgotten?"

"With the new fabrics, extra care is needed. You understand,"

"I've made a study of them," said Anna, "And the types of care required. I want to do my very best for you, My Lady. If something is not satisfactory-"

"Anna, you and I have been together for a long time. And we have a bond. I will not toss that aside for an occasional mistake. And especially now...I don't want you to worry. I'm just making sure that Mrs. Hughes is also current on these things in case I need the help,"

Anna's face was burning. This had never happened before. In all her years of service she had never been reprimanded in such a back-handed way.

"Have you made the travel arrangements for next week?" Lady Mary turned to her mirror.

"Of course," said Anna.

"You wouldn't mind going over them again for me?"

"Right away, My Lady," Anna strode down that hall and back down the stairs. She snatched her log book from the hallway shelf and sat at the table, leafing over her lists for next week, searching for errors.

"Especially now," Lady Mary had said. They all seemed to know that she couldn't let go of it. Anna grimaced in humiliation. She was beginning to feel that she was a complete foreigner in her own life, or that she was looking through the wrong end of the telescope where everything moved so far away. The people she knew, the things she used to like, it was all a world away and there seemed to be no way of closing the distance.

Anna found two errors in her arrangements as the snake smiled at her from across the table. Anna shuddered, he faded. She needed to straighten things out with the driver. She would also have to go down to the village and send a telegram. She was about to rise when Mrs. Hughes stopped next to her at the table.

"Anna, are you alright?" At least she had asked it in a whisper.

"Yes. Mrs. Hughes, of course,"

"If you ever need my help, don't hesitate to ask. You'll get past this,"

After Mrs. Hughes had moved on Anna heaved a sigh. They all seemed to feel that she was hanging on to it. It was like being accused of hanging on to a hated disease.

Although she knew she would have to answer for it, Anna left that night before telling John. She wandered through the church yard, putting her hand on stone after stone. She stopped, one hand resting on a grave stone, her mind nowhere, her heart, as usual, shut away from her. It was a constant dull ache to have her heart shut away, but better than the assault of the memories, better than feeling what she was doing to herself, and better than the helpless feeling of being unable to change it any of it, to stop her life spiraling away from her.

"Who's grave is this?" John's voice surprised her, but only a little.

"I don't know," Anna started walking away. He reached and took her arm, stopping her.

"You've been coming here lately, too. What is it about this place?"

"It's late," said Anna, "And I can't explain it,"

"Please try. Tell me what you're feeling,"

"You don't want to know, John."

"I do. I want to know it all. You're so closed off from me, I feel-"

"You want to know what I feel?" said Anna, "Sometimes I think it would be better if I was dead,"

"My God. Anna-"

"You see? You don't really want to know. No one wants to know. But it would be better, John. The purpose of life is to be alive, at least alive in your heart. I'll never be again. I'm not the woman you married anymore. I'm dead to myself, I've lost all my feeling. I'm no good to anyone anymore, not really,"

"You are-"

"And was I ever that good to begin with? How could I have been so good, for this to happen? I must have been...there must have been something wrong with me anyway. I must not have been worth the life I had. I must have been lacking from the beginning,"

"That is completely, utterly wrong-"

"And by being that person, I made it happen. I did something. I wasn't worthy. Or it never would have happened, John. I must have drawn this upon myself. And what does that say about who I really was?"

"To hear you talk like this-"

"You're right," she said. "You're much too good for this. You shouldn't have to,"

"Anna-"

"I'm not going to kill myself, John. I don't have the will," said Anna, "Don't worry. I just need a walk. I'll be home later,"

"I'm coming with you,"

"Please don't. Please. I just need time right now. Please,"

His expression would have broken her heart entirely, in the past.

Maybe some happy accident will save me now, she thought as she wandered toward the village. Maybe I could be hit by a lorry, or have a sudden heart attack. This struck her as funny and she smiled for an instant.

Anna walked into the dark by herself.