It's Cold, so...cold- and dark. I couldn't bear to move- and not simply from the weight of these chains- no that would be too comforting compared to this. What was this? I feel hollow and empty, yet I am heavier than lead. I must be losing my mind. It's the cold! It must be. The coldness seeps in through the floors and walls; consuming my body. I am so numb, I can no longer feel the pain from where the rusted chains have rubbed into my skin. The coldness mocks me. Proving just how alone I am... and how quickly that came to be.
It seems like a twisted dream now; the thoughts of comforting stories by the fire, my sister's warm hugs, my father's kind smile, even the simple cinnamon smell of my mother. Was that really just a month ago that my accusers had laughed with me? Had they never truely been my friends? All the people I've known since childhood- suddenly hating me, fearing me? How can they think of me as a witch? I've never missed a Sunday, nor a bedtime prayer. I am with God always! Then how is it my once best friends now scream and faint at the mere sight of me? I am NOT a witch!.. Am I? This emptiness I feel, the pain that no longer exist, the fear and hate in their eyes. Am I a witch?
A loud screeching echoes through th rotting cell as the barred door is opened. I know it is time. I say nothing as the men drag me to my feet and through the dusty hall. Not even as the sunlight blinds me for the first time in a month, nor even as I was lead up the steps and to my fate. I only half listen as the judge screamed to the crowd and the rope was placed around my neck and I barley even heard the prayer the minister muttered on my behalf. I only looked up as he draw a cross in front of me. I stared into his eyes and spoke my last words "Am I a witch?"