#“Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent on a VISIT TO HER FATHER.”

[anonbinaryweirdo]

a l e x a n d e r h a m i l t o n

had a torrid affair !!

and he wrote it down right there 😱😱

[music-in-my-veins14]

"Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent On a visit to her father."

[evermorehaikyuu]

~[Congratulations]~

Song: Congratulations from the Hamilton soundtrack

Word Count: 1799

Warnings: Cheating

A/N: I wanted angst. This has been in my drafts for the longest time and then inspiration flashed out of nowhere. For some reason, I was reminded of my own sister, that’s probably why I wrote this. Watch me do Kuguri next or something. 

~

"The charge against me was a connection with one Oikawa Tooru for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime was an amorous connection to his wife for a considerable time with his knowing consent. I had fluent meetings with her, most of them at my own house. Mrs. Tsukishima, with our children, being absent on a visit to her father…"

Tsukishima Kei was staring at the pamphlet he had written. Why had he done this? Why was he so stupid as to believe that with a few words everything would be normal again? Everything he had done, everything he had worked for all came down to a single option: yes or no. And he didn’t say no.

All he could do was stay in his office in shame, knowing that once his wife came back from her respite, he would not bear to live any longer. Just to see the pain in her eyes--

The door to his office slammed open. There she was, the sister of the wife he held near and dear to his heart even though he broke hers, Y/N L/N. 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima stood up to walk over to her and take her hand, but Y/N ripped her hand out of his grip. “Tsukishima. Congratulations.” 

If he was scared of his wife’s reaction, he was even more terrified of Y/N’s ripostes. An intelligent woman with fidelity to her younger sisters and her sisters’ partners and the richest man in the city as her father, she was a force to be reckoned with. The first thought that came to his head was, I messed up. Horribly. 

Y/N had a smile on her face, but it wasn’t the smile that you would give a friend. It was the smile that held so much rage behind it, it would be a miracle if she didn’t explode. “You have created a new kind of stupid, a damage you can never undo kind of stupid, an ‘open all the cages in the zoo’ kind of stupid.” She turned around to look at him, grinning maniacally before letting out a laugh that was terrifying to hear. “‘Truly, you didn’t think this through?’ kind of stupid.” 

All he could do was not stare at her for fear that if he dared look into her eyes, she’d be Medusa and turn him into stone. Tsukishima looked down at the floor, a sheet of sweat starting to form on his forehead. He may have been taller, but at that point, he felt like the underdog, the shorter person.

Y/N strode over to him and stayed a foot away from him, crossing her arms. Usually, someone crossing their arms meant that they were taking a defensive stance. Not Y/N. It seemed as if she was taking an offense. “Let’s review.” She closed her eyes and put her hand on her forehead. “You took a rumor, a few, maybe two people knew and refuted an affair of which no one has accused you.”

The pamphlet was in Y/N’s sight and range, making her fire up and put more venom behind her words as she grabbed the object that destroyed Tsukishima completely. She shoved it into his arms and spit, “I begged you to take a break, you refused to.” 

Her maniacal expression was back as she extended her arms as if asking for a hug. Tsukishima stared at the pamphlet in his hands before looking at her face for any contrition. There was none. She was more loyal to her sister than anyone else. “So scared of what your enemy will do to you.” She jammed her finger in his chest, making him take a step back. “But you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to.”

She was right. Tsukishima had always found a new enemy, a new rival to step on to get to the highest point in his life but there was always one enemy that he couldn’t defeat: himself. Y/N was standing by the window, looking outside as if waiting for someone or something. “You know why Kageyama can do what he wants?” She ripped the curtains closed and whipped around to glare at him. “He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response!” 

Kageyama was not the smartest man in the universe, according to Tsukishima. But he did know how to handle taunts and that was by ignoring them. Meanwhile, Tsukishima went through a whole process in order to ruin the person who dared sneer at him. It was exhausting and yet he never stopped.

Y/N laughed at his facial expression and walked behind him, staring at the back of his head. “So yeah, congratulations!”

Tsukishima’s head hung again as he tried to think of a reason why he had an affair. “Y/N…”

She cut him off again, determined to ruin him. “You’ve redefined your legacy! Congratulations!”

That’s when he snapped. He worked every single day and night to perfect his legacy to pass on to his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As intimidated as he was by Y/N, there was no way he would let her say something bad about something he had tried to do all of his life and destroyed people just to get it. He whipped around and snarled, “It was an act of political sacrifice!” 

The look in Y/N’s eyes made him falter. He had not expected for this to happen, she had always seemed so tough but right now, her armor was down. “Sacrifice?” No, it wasn’t down. Something had happened to her and Tsukishima was careless enough to start her down that path.

Y/N slowly walked over to his desk and ran her finger along the table. “I languished in a loveless marriage in London, I lived only to read your letters.”

That came as a shock to him. Why would she marry someone she didn’t love? Then it clicked. She loved her sister more than anything and would do anything to keep her happy, something Tsukishima himself couldn’t do at all. “I look at you and think, ‘God, what have we done with our lives and what did it get us?’” 

Oh. Tsukishima hesitated as the realization sank in. Y/N had been in love with him. She had been in love with him and yet, even then, she had decided to do something for her sister that she could never unravel. “That doesn’t wipe the tears or the years away but I’m back in the city and I’m here to stay.” 

She got closer to him, looking up at him with a tender look in her eyes. If he hadn’t known better, Y/N would’ve kissed him. “You know what I’m here to do?”

“Y/N…” He tried to reach for her hand for the second time, but she strode backwards from him, glowering at him.

“I’m not here for you.” That’s what pained Tsukishima more than anything. Y/N had always been there for him. The letters they exchanged always had some sort of an inside joke or the start of a discussion and he thought that she would always be there for him, no matter what. Tsukishima had forgotten that her loyalty lay more with her family than for him.

Y/N turned to look at him, a new spark in her eyes. “I know my sister like I know my own mind, you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind. And a million years ago, she said to me--” Y/N hugged herself, as if to give herself the comfort no one had ever given her. “‘This one’s mine.’ So I stood by.” She rose to her full height again, anger laced in her words. “Do you know why?!”

Tsukishima had messed up horribly and he knew it. Now, as he faced a furious older sister, he tried to go back to the time where he could’ve said no. It was his fault. Every single time he hurt Y/N’s little sister, it wasn’t because of her or because of politics, it was because of him.

Y/N grabbed his wrist roughly, making him stop in his tracks. With tears in her eyes, she snapped, “I love my sister more than anything in this life! I will choose her happiness over mine every time! S/N is the best thing in this life!” Her fingernails were digging into his skin, hurting him. The physical pain was so much better than the emotional pain S/N was going through, he decided. He deserved it. “So never lose sight of the fact that you have been blessed with the best wife!”

She let go of him and he stared at her. What would’ve been different if Tsukishima had married Y/N instead of S/N? He reacted too slow and Y/N had grabbed his collar with both hands. Her tears were running freely down her face and they were not of sadness. They were of desperation, of guilt, but most of all, indignation. “Congratulations!” 

Tsukishima had pulled himself away from her in a panic and his back hit the wall. Y/N didn’t go after him. “For the rest of your life, every sacrifice you make is for my sister, give her the best life!” She walked towards the door and looked at his petrified figure. “Congratulations!” She slammed the door shut on her way out.

What have I done? If Y/N was that pissed off with him, he couldn’t imagine the hurt in S/N’s eyes. It all hurt him more than he thought and he was clutching his chest as he slowly fell onto his knees. Panic started attacking him like bullets at the thought of confrontation. His eyes welled up with tears as he started gasping for air. 

The door opened and he glanced at the person opening the door. It was his son. “Dad?”

Shit. If his son was here, that meant--

“Aito? Where are you? There you ar--” S/N, the wife he had promised to take care of for the rest of his life, the wife he had cared deeply for, the wife whose heart he had broken, saw him on the floor. If he was panicking before, hysteria was rising up as he saw her.

S/N only looked at him before saying, “Aito. Go play with your sister.” Aito left and S/N stared at the man she had previously loved. With coldness in her voice, she said, “This was a mistake. We were a mistake.”

She closed the door and somehow, that hurt more than Y/N slamming the door shut. Tsukishima let his tears fall, regretting everything.

He couldn’t fix it. He swore to love her and yet he couldn’t do that.

Everything was cracking.

[an-american-experiment]

At his own house! At his own house! Damn! ‘Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent on a visit to her father.’

Lin-Manuel Miranda

It is true that Eliza was absent much of the summer and, truthfully, the year, of 1791 visiting her family upstate. This was primarily because of the threat of Yellow Fever, though. Many of the summers had waves of sickness which spread through the big cities in the United States. Sending Eliza and the children out of the city was the only sensible thing to do, and the plan was frequently for Hamilton to join the family when possible. Eliza constantly requested in her letters that he would do so. 

Sources: the following sources were used - the collected letters/writings of Alexander Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton the Revolution, Ron Chernow’s biography of Hamilton, The Intimate Life of Alexander Hamilton by Allan McLane Hamilton, Hamilton by Richard Syllia, and Charles Cerami’s book called Young Patriots. In addition, War of Two by John Sedgwick and Washington and Hamilton by Tony Williams were used throughout. Eliza Hamilton: The Extraordinary Life and Times of the Wife of Alexander Hamilton by Tilar J. Mazzeo was used too.

Follow us at @an-american-experiment where we are historically analyzing the lyrics of Hamilton with a new post every day!

[dykeninthdoctor]

HIGHLIGHTS! the charge against me is a connection with one james reynolds for purposes of improper speculation my real crime is an amorous connection with his wife for a considerable time with his knowing consent DAMN I had frequent meetings with her most of them at my own house at his own house at his own house DAMN mrs hamilton with our children being absent on a visit to her father. no.. BOOOOOO WELL HES NEVER GOIN BE PRESIDENT NOW NEVER GOIN BE PRESIDENT NOW HES NEVER GOIN BE PRESIDENT NOW T

this simultaneously added seven years to my lifetime and removed thirty,,,thank you 

[burr-hamilton-laurens]

AT HIS OWN HOUSE!! AT HIS OWN HOUSE? AT HIS OWN HOUSE!!! DAAMN!!

“MRS. HAMILTON WITH OUR CHILDREN BEING ABSENT ON A VISIT TO HER FATHER” NO HAVE YOU READ THIS ?? WELL HES NEVER GON BE PRESIDENT NOW NEVERGONBEPRESIDENTNOW

[canadian-riddler]

💌 The charge against me Is a connection with one James Reynolds! For purposes of Improper speculation My real crime is an  Amorous connection with his wife  For a considerable time With his knowing consent I had frequent meetings with her Most of them at my own house. Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent On a visit to her father.

this sure doesn’t sound like something Irene would send me

[darling-danger]

Memoriae

Pairing: Hamliza Words: 1041 Rating: Angst  Author’s Notes: I’m currently writing Daveed and Thomas fics but I just had this burst of inspiration and I decided to do a quick Hamliza piece. Requests are open! Enjoy!

It was morning and Eliza sat alone in her and Alexander’s room. It was quiet, yet the silence was rather comforting. All her life she was soft spoken, shying away from the larger crowds; she remembered, as a teen, desiring to be exactly like Angelica, to have suitors and friends knocking on her door. Now, after losing her son, a frantic knock at the door is any wife and mother’s greatest fear.

 She sighed and tightly held the cushion at her side. Marrying Alexander Hamilton, she knew that her life would never be the same, that there was no turning back to the comfortable life she once had. Domestic life was bliss. Eliza was blessed, beautiful children and a loving husband. Wouldn’t that be enough?

“It was enough.” She murmured to herself, bringing the pillow to her chest. “It was more than enough, actually, almost too much in fact.” She felt her heart sink as her mind began to wander.

Of course with the light, came the darkness. And oh, was the darkness unforgiving.

The pamphlet. Eliza recalled her memories, the grip on the pillow tightening. That was when she realised she existed at the centre of the storm, and right next to her: Alexander. Where he walked the storm followed, tragedy struck; she knew it all too well.

She remembers walking outside one afternoon, the grass green and her children happily running around the garden. She sees a clump of papers resting on the front of her house. Eliza looked around, trying to look for anyone who could’ve left it there; all she saw were the neighbors reading several papers as well, some of them giving her said looks.

She examines the front page ‘The Reynolds Pamphlet’ it said, and below that was the name of the author, her husband Alexander. “Must be one of his rants again.” She began going through the pages, her body went numb yet nothing was registering. She could hear her heartbeat through her ears, erratic and increasing in rate as she continued reading.

‘I had frequent meetings with her, most of them in my own house.’

“No..”

‘Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent on a visit to her father.’

Eliza felt her knees buckle slightly, almost collapsing on the front porch. As if breaking free from a spell her head snapped to look at her surroundings: her neighbors’ eyes, sad and empathetic, digging into her entire being. The door behind her opened and she swore in that moment she was shattered.

“Mommy, where’s papa?” Asked her sweet daughter Angelica. Eliza’s body shook with misery and she out on a smile for her daughter.

“H-he’s at work sweetheart,” She choked up but somehow managed to hide it through a fake cough. “He’ll be back soon, d-don’t worry.” Angelica giggled and ran back to play with her siblings. Almost immediately she ran back upstairs to their her room. Closing the door behind her she collapsed in a fit of sobs. Her breathing was uneven, her mouth opened for a scream before she let her hands clamp over it. The children. She silently cried harder, crying for her family, for her marriage, for her own heart. How could he be so careless with it?

 A tear ran down Eliza’s cheek and dropped onto her lap. She never looked at Alexander the same way again, not after what he did. Yet, she still found the strength to stay with him, praying to God a miracle would happen. Praying for a way to fix their marriage.

And a miracle did happen, they were together again. But life is an unforgiving mistress, for every gift comes with a cost. The cost this time was her son. Their son.

Alexander finished packing into the last box, he looked at the contents inside: Philip’s old uniforms and clothes. The whole day he spent in his son’s room, reminiscing on old memories with his son. Memories that now seemed like had happened centuries ago. He cried into the coat that Philip wore on the day of his duel, the cloth was damp and the blood had already dried. But Alexander could still feel his son’s chest rising and falling with each short breath, he could smell the blood that Philip was covered in, he could still hear the wavering voice of his son, until now. Even after Eliza forgave him, he didn’t feel like he deserved to stay in this house any longer, feeling he indirectly caused his oldest son’s demise.

“Alexander?” He turned to Eliza who was standing by the door. “You need to rest.” He shook his head, closing the box and walking over to his wife, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“What are we going to do?” He whispered, feeling the tears welling in his eyes. “Eliza, our children..”

She pulls back and holds his face in between her hands gently. She stares into his eyes, both allowing their tears to freely flow. Her thumb lightly rubbed at her husband’s cheek, her husband who betrayed her trust and nearly destroyed their family. Her husband who she fell for and loved, whom she built a family with, whom she knew would trade his life for their son’s. Her husband who she felt all these emotions for, and knew he felt the same. Their family was broken, but God, it was still their family.

“We’re going to be a family again,” she said, leaning onto his chest and crying.

 Eliza walked to her bedside table, looking to the small painting of her family; once broken, now mended. A family that went through hell and back. A husband, who’s love for her was undying, and hers the same. Children who she protected and loved, no matter what happened. She was ready to start again, to be happy as she once was. She heard knocks on the door.  “Come in.”

It was Angelica who approached her, and her greatest fear was now manifesting and she felt her world slowly fall apart once more.

They rushed to the hospital. Eliza and Angelica stayed by his side for three days, and not a single dry eye in the room.

Tragically, she was in the room where it happened.

[theamazingfeministunicorn]

Burning Ashes

MENTIONS OF CHEATING, SWEARING, ANGST. ( Also, I don't know how to do cut-offs and I am so, so sorry.)

Eliza drew back the heavy, velvet crimson curtains. She looked out through the large crystalline bay window that overlooked the spacious field outside their house. The weather was beautiful, the sun was burning brightly in a cloudless sky. Her eight children were taking full advantage of the wonderful weather by playing amongst the tall grass.

Smiling to herself, she turned back into the grand living room. Taking a large wicker basket, she softly closed the door and stepped down the concrete steps that led to the house she and Alex had bought all those years ago.

Looking up, the sky was cloudless and a powdery blue. It matched her light blue satin dress that rustled slightly in the cool autumn breeze.

Walking out onto the high street, she could hear the quiet whispers and slight rustling of paper. She pretended not to notice the eyes that burnt into her, though she caught sight of one of those pamphlets that everyone seemed to be reading. She could instantly recognise her husband’s fluent and flowing handwriting. Unmistakable.

A familiar feeling of dread came over her, what HAD he done now?

Ever since she came back from visiting her father upstate he seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. It was like he was ashamed, almost guilty. When she confronted him about it, he told her that he was just tired. He was just a little over-worked. When she told him to go and see a doctor, he had just brushed her off. He had been locking himself in his study for hours and hours on end ever since he had been visited by Burr, Madison and Jefferson. She often wondered what he was doing in there.

She was about to find out.

As she turned the corner, she was stopped by a small man. “May I help you?” She asked cautiously, uncertain of his intentions. “I-I’m sorry.” He stuttered quietly, refusing to meet her eye. Then, just as he handed her a large pamphlet- the one that everyone was reading, several clouds appeared as if from nowhere and blocked out the sun.

Taking it, she walked over to her favourite park. The one that Alexander had first told her that he loves her, it holds enormous sentimental value for her. Sitting down on a nearby bench, she read the title ‘The Reynolds Pamphlet’.

“The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds, for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife for a considerable time with his knowing consent.” As Eliza read this aloud, her eyebrows furrowed and breathing quickened. What?

'Amorous connection’?

'His wife’?

'Knowing consent’?

No. This was all just a big misunderstanding, Alexander loved her. He had sworn he had, he told her he had. He loves her.

Doesn’t he?

She continued “I had frequent meetings with her, most of them at my own house.” Eliza’s breath hitched as she read this sentence over and over, her brain frantically trying to register this information.

Clearing the tears clouding her vision that ebbed and threatened to spill over, she read on, fearful of what was to come next.

“Mrs. Hamilton and our children being absent on a visit to her father.” Eliza suddenly became aware that she couldn’t breathe, she felt faint and dizzy. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession, how could he do this? To her? To their children?

This is just a dream. Yes, that’s what this is. This is just a bad dream, a nightmare. A nightmare. She will wake up and Alexander will be there, next to her. And not because he has to. Because he wants to, because he loves her. Because he loves their children and there will be no 'Mrs. Maria Reynolds’. No 'James Reynolds’. No 'Reynolds Pamphlet’.

Just them and their children. He will go upstate with them because he wants to be with them and spend time with them. They will all have a lovely time and live happily ever after. The End.

A deep voice drew Eliza from her thoughts.

“Ever see someone ruin their own life?” He joked to friend, obviously thankful for the fresh source of gossip in New York City.

His slightly smaller friend must have seen Eliza, in shock at what she had just discovered, because he replied.

“His poor wife.”

And with that, the tears that she had being trying so incredibly hard to force back, cascaded down her cheeks and dropped onto the ground, along with the poisonous pamphlet that had detailed her husband’s infidelity. Could she even call him that anymore?

She ran. She ran and ran and ran. She ran all the way back to their home, the house they built together, the house they had raised all eight of their children in, the house they had made a home together.

The house he had brought Maria Reynolds in, the house he had broken Eliza’s heart in, the house he had lied to her in, the house he had betrayed her and their wedding vows in, the house he had ruined their lives in.

The children were still playing out in the field, perfectly oblivious and innocent in their own little bubble. Unaware of the scandalous gossip outside. Unaware of their mother’s aching heart. Unaware of their father’s adultery. They still believed that their parents were happy and in love.

She flew up the stairs and slammed the heavy oak door that led to their bedroom. She stopped and stared down at the offending bed. There they had shared their most intimate moments. There they talked late into the night. There she had given birth to all eight of their children.

The children. What will she tell them? They would be heartbroken if they found out the truth. No. They won’t know, not yet.

Suddenly, full of rage, she stormed across the room, stopping short at her dresser as her blurry eyes locked onto the China figurine. It was the one Alexander had given to her for their first anniversary.

It was a beautiful figurine of a ballet dancer. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a tight bun, the light pink ribbon matched her pastel tutu and peach shoes. Her long and delicate porcelain fingers just slightly grazed her slim ankles that were connected with her graceful legs. Her eyes were gazing softly downwards and her rosy lips were slightly parted and her cheeks were carefully painted to perfection. It was a fine example of exquisite craftsmanship.

She carefully picked it up and inspected it. She still remembered the moment he gave her this, his shy and embarrassed eyes. He blushed slightly and he smiled a little. Where was that Alexander? HER Alexander?

Her grip on the slight thing tightened as her mind flashed through what he had done to her.

She through it towards to the hard wall.

It all happened in slow-motion. It shattered on impact, the tiny China fragments fell to the floor and scattered underneath the dresser. Her mind flashed back. ———————————– She was standing in a large candlelit ballroom. She instantly knew where she was. Her eyes scanned the room and she saw Angelica in her pink satin dress half lit by the flickering lights, her bright, white smile could have lightened the whole room. She dazzled it.

The band was playing at top volume, people were dancing in pairs. Women’s skirts twirled and swirled around in a multitude of colours, like a rainbow in a nights sky. The candles were the stars. The dancers and guests were the planets that rotated effortlessly around the moon…

Who was the moon?

Angelica?

The richest, most handsome man?

Woman?

He entered. A small and slight man with deep and brown, intelligent eyes and a hunger-pang frame. Suddenly, she felt something lift in her chest. It was like her heart had grown wings and fluttered straight out of her breast. It felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It felt like… like the sky’s the limit. She immediately grabbed her sister and whispered harshly “Yo this one’s mine.”

However, her heart slammed back into her chest and the weight when her sister seemed to ignore her words that claimed him as hers. She felt nervous, wondering what she was going to do. Thinking she’s through, she turned back towards the table located at the very edge of the grandiose ballroom and forced a large fake smile onto her face. Then, a voice dragged her out of her futile attempts at feigning happiness.

“I’m about to change your life,” It was the voice of her sister.

“By all means lead the way.” A deep male voice replied. It must have been His. It was soft and velvety. Thick like syrup. Sweet like chocolate.

She turned to face her sister and her future husband. “Elizabeth Schuyler, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She forced back the tears and the large lump that sat and throbbed in her throat. Her voice twinges with a hint of pain. She can see him and Angelica exchange a few words and Eliza hastily thanks him for his services to their country. That’s what your supposed to say, right?

“If it takes a war for us to meet, it would have been worth it.” He said, giving her a small, shy half smile. Eliza’s breath hitched as she knew he made her truly helpless.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Angelica joked, but as she moved away, Eliza could detect a hint of sadness in her voice. The way she moved. The way she held herself. She knew she could never be satisfied.

But, as she opened her mouth to say something, he struck up a proper conversation. Soon, she was lost in the moment she met her soulmate.

———————————– Eliza stared at the blank wall, in shock at what she had done. What she had just remembered. She could feel a slight twinge of sadness in her heart. Like a twang from a delicate pluck of a cello that echoed around and empty ballroom.

Her eyes filled with tears as she whipped around and saw the draft of the pamphlet on the desk Alexander had written late into the night on. Infuriated- she grabbed it.

Why was it there? Was he so arrogant? Did he think she would never notice it? Maybe he thought it just didn’t matter anymore? He had already confessed, job done. Right? Right?

She tore it in half.

Then in half again.

And again.

And again.

And again and again and again. She tore it until it was nothing more than fractions of confetti. How dare he. He had betrayed her and he had the disgusting courage to flaunt it in front of her. He lied to her. He betrayed her and he just expected her to forgive him. He had the courage to confess it to the world- and not even enough to confess it to her first. He was a coward. A courageous coward.

“Well, screw your courage to the sticking place.” She whispered and threw the fragments of her husband’s adulterous liaisons into the fire place that crackled in the corner.

She watched the flames roar and rise to show their approval. Her rage grew with it. Storming over to the dresser, she yanked out a draw full of pages and pages of letters. They were the letters he had written to her.

She took the one on the top. It was the one he had written to her only a week after he first met Maria Reynolds. She held it to the light, as if to search for clues. Something, anything. Just- Why?

He had lied to her. Told her everything was just fine. A single tear rolled down her pink cheek and dropped onto the paper, smudging the ink where Alexander had signed his name.

“I saved every letter you wrote me.” She looked up, out of the window where rain was now lashing down. She thought back to all the lies and letters he had written to her; the poems he had written for her.

“From the moment I read them I knew you were mine.” She looked back down at the letter in her now shaking hand. “You said you were mine,” Her fingers itched and before her mind could register what she was doing, she threw it into the amber fire along with remnants of the Pamphlet.

She watched the lion roar it’s approval, sparks flew upwards. She watched the edges turn golden then jet black and fold in on itself, like a dying butterfly. What had been parchment and ink turned into nothing more than charcoal. Dust. Dirt. Leftovers.

She stared blankly at it, her mind registering what she had just done. Then, an image of Maria Reynolds popped into her mind’s eye. Her soft brown curls that mysteriously covered half her face. Her crimson dress that matches the exact same shade as her plump lips. Her body with curves in all the right places.

“I thought you were mine.” She felt a wave of rage and hatred against the woman. But it went as soon as it had arrived, it wasn’t her fault she reminded herself. It was her husband who had continued the affair. Maria was not a whore. She was not a seductress. She was not a home wrecker. Not a bunny boiler. She was an abused child.

Her eyes prickled with tears once again.

She threw another into the fire.

The one he wrote when she was pregnant with Philip.

The one he wrote after they got married.

The one he wrote the day before he proposed.

The one where he first told her he loved her.

The one where he detailed their first meeting perfectly.

They were all no more than fuel for the fire that raged in her heart. With each one she burnt, a large weight lifted from her shoulders. Like something lifting from her chest.

She took the last one out, the first one he ever wrote her.

His flowery language flooded her senses. He sent them into overdrive like exotic spices. His sentences left her defenceless, he tore them down one by one. He built her large palaces and lavish cathedrals of her own, all out of nothing more than hollow paragraphs and empty promises.

It symbolised Eliza’s everything. It symbolised their youth. Their blissful courtship. Their innocence and naivety. Their pure love. It was a flame that refused to be put out and dampened. It was where he told her of his unyielding loyalty. It was where he grew her roses in the garden of her heart.

But now. Now she had nothing.

They were no longer young, they were older now. They were no longer courting, they were married. They were no longer innocent and naive, they were old and fully aware of the scathing of life. Their love was no longer pure, it was tainted and dirty. The flame had been all but extinguished. His loyalty had wondered, far from home. The roses in her garden were diseased and dead.

The lion beckoned her to it, it pleaded and begged her to let go. She knew Alexander did not love her. He had the money, the power, the influence. He had all he wanted.

All Eliza wanted was his love. Love from her own husband. Is that too much to ask? From her husband? Was he really her husband? Was he really hers?

These doubts whirled around her mind like a hurricane. She couldn’t deal with it, she couldn’t bear it. Why should she stay? He published every letter she wrote him with a disregard to how this will affect her and their children.

Lightning tore the sky apart and thunder rumbled in the distance.

She tossed it into the fire.

He broke her heart and now she’s watching it burn. The now empty draw fell from her fingertips and made a loud clatter on the polished oak floor. She was shocked at what she had just done. She told herself that he deserved it, he had torn this family apart. She told herself it was better to just erase herself from the narrative. But she couldn’t undo the hurt she felt. She couldn’t undo the damage he had done.

Her legs gave way and she fell to the floor like they had been kicked out from under her. Her lungs were empty and her eyes stung from crying so hard.

She felt her heart tear itself into two and the venom of a broken heart it sent coursing around her body. She sobbed even harder, sobbing with the grey skies. Her entire body shook with a mixture of rage and grief.

She didn’t know how long she had been there crying on the floor, tear tracks burning and branding themselves onto her cheeks. She heard a soft click at the door and the sounds of new shoes clacking on a polished floor. Looking up, she could see Alexander. His eyes were panicked and his face looked guilty.

“Eliza,” He whispered softly.

Rage consumed her once again.

“I-I’m so sorry. But we can work through this, can’t we?” He was cautious in choosing his words.

“Work through this.” She stood up and let out a small humourless laugh. “Alexander, you told the world how brought this… this girl into our bed.” She practically yelled.

“But, you don’t understand… My legacy!” He knew that those words were wrong as soon as they left his tainted lips.

“Your legacy. Of course, how could I forget?” She turned to face him and she could see him avoiding her burning eyes.

“Yes, the legacy. Alexander, you have ruined our lives! But no, I now realise that the great Alexander Hamilton only stands for himself.” Sarcasm drenched her every word.

“I-” He began but was cut off.

“No. Cut the crap Alexander, you vowed yourself to me. But now I know that those vows mean nothing to you.” Sobbing violently now as she continued.

“I can’t believe you published the letters she wrote you and now you’re defending yourself! I read it, I read all of it. You, you and your words obsessed with your legacy. Your sentences that border on senseless.” She felt her whole body fill up with hatred.

“But-” He tried again to find the words to express how sorry he was but he fell short. He knew what he had done was despicable, it was unforgivable. But, he also knew that he could make it up to her.

“For once, the amazing Alexander Hamilton is speechless!” Thunder and lightning punctuated the silence that followed.

“Eliza,” He pleaded, almost begging now.

“No. Get out.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“Please,” He began. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”

“The way they were.” She let out another humourless laugh. “When you slept around and I pretended no to know.” She continued.

Alexander opened his mouth and shut it again.

“Now get out.” She stated again.

“Where will I sleep?” He questioned, suddenly apprehensive.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” She said in mock sympathy and concern.

Her tone suddenly turned scathing as she continued “You’ve slept with so many people, I’m surprised you can even remember where that bed is!” She turned away, she was barely able to look at him. Gathering herself, she whirled back around to face him once more.

“You have forfeited all rights to my heart and to that bed!” She pointed forcefully at the bed. The storm was in full effect and the children had retreated to the nursery to continue with their play.

Burning tears cascaded down her cheeks once again.

“You can sleep in your office instead. Lord knows you loved that room more than you ever loved me!” Alexander felt a thousand daggers pierce into his heart when he heard his wife’s harsh words and voice hoarse from crying and yelling.

Hurt, Alexander was making his way back towards the door that led into their bedroom when his wife’s monotone voice drew him back to her. “I have just one hope.” Stony faced and her scarred heart spoke for her.

“What is it Eliza? I’ll do anything.” He meant every word of it, after all he did love her.

Almost whispering, she continued “I hope that you burn in hell, Mr. Hamilton.” Voice stoic and eyes that were made of ice. They were a stark contrast to the burning and licking flames of rage that stoked themselves in the centre of her pupils.

“Now get out.” Drawing in a deep breath, she turned back to the dying fire.

As soon as she heard the soft click of the silver lock, her mind processed what had just happened. The smouldering embers that were once Alexander’s wondrous decelerations of his undying, unyielding love. But, yet, love had died and love had yielded to a new mistress.

Falling once again to the floor, she dragged herself exhaustedly to the foot of the bed. She was unable to even think about sleeping in it after reading about what Alexander had done in it.

The fire was now all but extinguished. Laying her head down on the hard, cold floor. She stared blankly at the empty fire place, tears rolled silently down her flushed cheeks from her bloodshot eyes. Her heart had been shattered into a hundreds of thousands of pieces like shards of broken glass that were currently strewn across the floor like the aftermath of some destructive natural disaster. All by the man she thought loved her.

“The world will never know of your love,” She whispered softly to herself. “Now I’ve burnt all the letters. Burnt the memories that might have redeemed you.”

The storm had died down now, the sudden storm left no trace other than droplets of diamond rainwater on the delicate blades of emerald grass. The children had now returned outside. Naive and young. Oblivious and blissful. Beautiful and innocent.

She wished that she could go back to that state of childish youth. When they were young and in love. But, she realised, she was old and heartbroken. There was no turning back time. There was no way of him regaining her trust. There was no way of piecing together those burnt fragments of true love.

All that was left was her and her burning ashes.

[wouldbxenough-blog]

"memories of sorrow"

“Have you read this? Alexander Hamilton had a torrid affair and he wrote it down right here!”

Yes, he most certainly did. All 95 pages.

To be anonymously delivered the Reynolds Pamphlet was like someone had punched their fist through her chest, grabbing her heart and yanking it back out. To see Alexander’s words – her Alexander, the bright young soldier so eager to build his new nation, her Alexander, to loving and happy to be a father, so addicted to his work but never ending in his affections – words on that first paper, confessing the most horrid thing she had never thought she would ever read.

“The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds, for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime is an amorous connnection with his wife, for a considerable time, with his knowing consent.”

NO!

“I had frequent meetings with her, most of them in my own house” – in their house?! THEIR HOUSE?! – “Mrs Hamilton, with our children, being absent on a visit to her father.”

The emotions toiling through her, ripping and shredding at her very being, tearing the fabric of her small comfortable homelife apart, were almost too much to bear.

How could he?

Eliza read the Pamphlet, in the privacy of the master bedroom, fingers practically tearing at the papers, tears welling into her eyes, rage and sorrow and betrayal pressing against her ribcage.

How could he?

Her first instinct, as any woman would, was to blame the other woman. This jezebel, this Maria Reynolds, how dare she come into a married man? Who did she think she was? How could her husband be so crooked as to allow the affair and then blackmail Alexander to keep his mouth shut?

How could he?

The children– Oh God, the children, what was she going to tell the children? They so looked up to Alexander, Philip especially, his mind was so much like his father’s, every time she looked at Philip she saw her husband.

How could he?

As her mind whirled out of her control, Eliza lost her rage against Maria Reynolds. Alexander had confessed that she was ten years younger than he. She was no more than a child, and James Reynolds sounded vicious. She wondered… Did Maria really have a say in all of this?

How DARE he?!

In the end, Eliza was a mess. The Reynolds Pamphlet lay scattered on the floor in disarray. The curtains were drawn tight, keeping her in semi darkness, her hair a mess from tearing at her, her eyes bloodshot from crying, face pale and drawn from her grief. 

In the end, she felt her sorrow turn to rage and betrayal. She had given everything to Alexander, her thoughts, her life, her heart and he had taken it all and thrown it away the first moment he saw a young pretty face in distress. Alexander was to blame, as much as his Pamphlet tried to paint him as the victim. Alexander knew what he was getting into. He was a grown man, who had made bad decisions, and now with this confession of his, he would surely get his due.

Her heart, shattered as it was, retreated into a cold and dark place. Her body toiok over a sense of calm and she got to her feet, heading to her desk to take out the box she had so lovingly held onto and taken care of, holding the many letters Alexander had written to her during their courtship, during his time as a soldier on the feild, even during her trip to her father’s estate with the children. 

She opened the box, read through the letters, remembered each little memory, every smile, every skip of the heart whenever she would see his handwriting awaiting to woo her. Carefully, she put the letters back, putting the lid back onto the box, before going over to the fireplace, the fire crackling away as if nothing were wrong.

She threw the box into the fire, watching it burn everything inside into cinders and ash, raising her aching eyes up at the portrait of Alexander himself, looking so handsome and proud, like he was untouchable.

“…I hope that you burn,” Eliza said coldly.

[marystucki12]

So If I Survive, Then I’ll See You Tomorrow 

The ship was on fire as the dinghy with three people sailed away. Screams and growling could be heard from the decks as the escapees slipped further away from the the inferno and illness. The young woman was in total shock. Her parents and brother were on that ship. And here she was, in the middle of the ocean with two men who were practically strangers- were actually strangers not even two days ago. 

    Georgia Leigh Hamilton. Eighteen and alone save for an old crotchety FEMA officer and young kitchen chef. People she had just met in the last forty-eight hours, and she was trusting them with her life. No- more than that. She and the kitchen boy, Kent Clark (Jack called him Mansuper), were both putting probably too much faith in Jack Mullally A.K.A. FEMA.

    “So much for my last paid vacation,” Jack said to himself.

    “Best job ever, my foot,” Kent groaned.

    “Happy graduation to me,” Georgia said.

    “You say something, Scarface?” Jack asked Georgia, suddenly broken from his trance on the dying ship.

    “Just some sentiment,” Georgia replied, playing with the puckered scar on her clavicle- an absent minded habit- the benefits from cutting her own hair from boredom, dropping the scissors and cutting herself with them while trying to catch them. 

    “We are on the water. We’ll make it. I promise. Back to shore in a couple of weeks unless we are rescued,” Jack said. “Government will rescue us. Why, back in the Ebola outbreak of ‘95...”

    “What if that broke out on the mainland?” Kent interrupted. “What if one of us has it, but hasn’t shown symptoms yet?”

    “We will sleep in shifts,” Georgia suggested in a haze.

    Have I only been out of high school for a week? So much for my graduation gift. A Caribbean cruise will be fun they said. That sounds like a start to a fun little story.

    “...besides, we can wizz over the side. Scarface isn’t so lucky. She’ll need our help.”

    “What?” Georgia asked.

    “I said that we should sleep in shifts to keep an eye on each other. Plus, you will need help going to the bathroom...you know...you’ll have to submerge your lower half to go...Kent and I can just go over the side.”

    “Yes, the glories of being a man,” Georgia agreed. 

    The ship was barely a glow on the horizon now, and Georgia shivered. Her thin sweatshirt, t-shirt, dark-wash jeans, and steel-toed boots would not be enough to keep her warm at night, especially now, as cold as she was dripping wet from the dive. She blew on her hands and said a brief but sincere prayer, “Lord, help us survive this ordeal.”

    “I had a nap today while you guys put down the fuel. I’ll take first watch,” Jack volunteered as he slung a blanket and jacket over Georgia’s shoulders. She exhausted, did not protest. 

    Georgia laid her head on her arm on the edge of the dingy and sighed. Initially, she tried to comfort herself by reciting scriptures in her head, but as her brain began to slip, her mind drifted to song lyrics from her “Bad Mood Music” playlist. “I never bought a suit before in my life, but when you go to meet God you know you wanna look nice.”

****

Graduation. Georgia was finally out of high school, that horrible place, once and for all. She never had to set foot back onto that property again if she didn’t want to. Her open house had been the day of her graduation. After she opened her graduation cards, her mom made her deposit the checks, but she was allowed to keep the cash. Her older brother, Dakota, bought his first new car, and gave Georgia his Wrangler as a graduation gift. Her parents decided that they should take one last vacation, and even Dakota was able to go. Tickets were booked for a cruise to the Caribbean. The Hamilton family was ecstatic: they wanted to make the most of what could potentially be their absolute last family trip.

 There had been some weird things happening in China, India, and Nepal but that wasn’t in America. The reports of people attacking each other didn’t seem real, and thus far had been attributed to drugs and mental health problems. None of the countries released official statements, only that they were gathering information to make accurate statements at a future date. 

On the first of July, the family boarded the ship just a ways from Cocoa Beach, FL. Four days later, Georgia was sitting in a deck chair writing in a Darth Vader notebook when the first  outbreak started in the ship’s kitchen, which, at that time believed to be a flu virus, and was even announced by the captain over the ship’s speakers. The passengers were just told to make sure that they washed their hands and took showers every morning and night.  Everyone had to report to sick bay to be checked for marks and take a nose swab for a flu test. 

The chef who had gotten sick died, and that was believed that was the end of it. No one else was sick. That is, until he suddenly jerked awake and bit the ship’s doctor on the hand, a nurse in the jugular, and another nurse in the leg. At first, security managed to keep the victims contained in the brig, but that didn’t work for long. The virus mutated and became airborne,  making several people ill with the initial flu symptoms. Passengers were told to stay in their staterooms and a box of canned goods would be delivered by staff, as well as toiletries as needed. Most of the people on the ship became ill, including Dakota and Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. 

****

    Weeping, growling, and screaming could be heard from the staterooms on either side of the Hamiltons. Karen, Georgia’s mother, said she was getting a headache. There was a sudden knock on the door. Dakota answered the door after seeing the crewman through the peephole. 

    “How is everyone doing in here?” he asked. 

    “Mom’s getting a headache and we are almost out of toilet paper.”

    “I’ll bring some by. Meantime, here are some tools. Keep the sharp ones very handy.”

    “What for?” Carl, Mr. Hamilton, asked. 

    “Just in case. It’s for the best.”

    “What’s your name?” Carl asked.

    “Kent Clark. I’m one of the kitchen staff.”

    He looks exhausted. Those bags under his eyes look blue on his pasty skin.

    “Thank you, Kent.” Dakota said as he closed and locked the door behind him.

    ****

    Around the Hamiltons, the weeping and screaming stopped. There was only growling every once in a while. They prayed and sang quietly together, but Karen’s condition grew increasingly worse. She was burning up and in agony. Georgia wrote when it was quiet and could concentrate enough. She used the cover of the book to write down changes in her mom’s condition. None of the Hamiltons had any luck getting through to sick bay on the phones. There wasn’t even a dial tone after a while. Karen moaned from the pain often, and her children would help her drink water and eat small bites of crackers from the supplies Kent dropped off. 

They heard a staff member out in the hall open the adjacent stateroom door. Then they heard him screaming, and the growling next door was suddenly loud and violent. This excited the other family in the room on the right. The growling was intense. 

    At some point during the din, Karen expired. Once they realized, Georgia began to cry, and Dakota tried to comfort her. To their shock, Karen began to groan, and Carl went to check on her. Karen wasn’t groaning in pain. She snapped to attention and chomped her teeth into Carl’s hand. On reflex, Dakota shot up, grabbed the screwdriver, and drove it through Karen’s eye. She stopped squirming. 

    Blood oozed from the wound on Carl’s hand. Georgia did her best to treat it with the first aid kit in the bathroom. Georgia cried as she bandaged her father’s hand. Carl traced the scar on Georgia’s face with his finger. 

“I’m sorry, Gigi. That mark on your face is my fault. If only I’d looked before I pulled out into that intersection..”

“Daddy, no. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was true. She and her father had been visiting family in North Webster, Indiana to check out Camp Crosley as a possible place to hold a two week “preacher training camp,” when he pulled out into an intersection in North Manchester and they were T-Boned where Georgia was sitting. By the grace of God, both of them escaped with minor injuries and concussions. She had to get stitches in her face. It was an accident. She never blamed her father and she had forgiven the driver after it happened. Thankfully, the driver, had been okay, too. 

                                                              **** 

Carl died. Dakota piked Carl. Dakota caught “flu” and died. Georgia didn’t pike Dakota in time. She was sitting in the corner crying when he rose from the bed and lunged for her, his eyes cloudy and teeth bared. She grabbed the screwdriver and her recently packed brown “bug out backpack” and fled to the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

Just as the door shut, another set of hands grabbed her arm and pulled it toward his gaping maw. Georgia pulled her arm, trying to get away, but the thing was too strong. 

Just before the teeth could touch her skin, a bullet zinged past her ear and hit the monster in the head. As she turned, her rust-colored bangs fell in her blue eyes, but she could see an older man, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, boots, a red backpack, and a surgical mask.

“Are you okay, Scarface?”

There wasn’t time to flinch at the insult.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“I’m Jack Mullally, a FEMA officer. Did you get any blood in your mouth? Are you suffering from flu symptoms? Do you have any bites?”

“No. I’m fine, Mr. FEMA,” Georgia replied just as Kent rounded the corner down the hall.

“RUN!” He yelled. 

Jack and Georgia heard the moaning and growling. At least fifteen violent creatures were ambling behind him, reaching out for Kent, bloodthirsty. 

“Follow me. We are getting off of this boat if it’s the last thing we do!” Jack said while turning the other way. 

****

The group made their way to the deck with the lifeboats, gathering supplies along the way and hiding where they could. It took a day and a half to make it.

Kent had led them to the kitchen, where Mr. FEMA gave Kent a sack and filled it with non-perishables. He did the same to Georgia and himself. Inside the freezer, he found an ax, a hammer, and a cast iron skillet. 

“I’m keeping the ax, Mansuper. Don’t even try it,” Jack said almost jokingly.

“Then I want the hammer,” Kent said.

“What, those things will think you’re a sissy for using a skillet? Give me a break,” Georgia said as she took the tool from Jack and gave it a few practice swings.

From the kitchen, they made their way to a maintenance closet, where all three of them could sit if they tucked knees to chins in three different corners or all against one wall. Jack suggested they all sleep against one wall, Georgia in the middle and Kent in the corner. Kent and Georgia agreed.

In the morning (according to Jack’s watch alarm), they looked through all the boxes in the maintenance closet, searching for supplies. Lighter fluid, two diesel fuel cans, duct tape, matches, and toilet paper were the rewards. 

“Why is there diesel in a maintenance closet?” Jack asked Kent.

“According to Bill, who was the maintenance director, it’s here in case the engine was just short of fuel. Though, I’m not sure if he was serious, since it doesn’t seem like quite enough to do anything or go anywhere. Hard to tell with Bill.”

When Jack opened the closet door, there were two infected there. He shut the door, but the beings began pounding on it earnestly.

“Mr. FEMA, Mansuper, look up. The tiles.”

“Through the ceiling. I like this brain of yours, Scarface. Alright, Mansuper, get up there. And help pull Georgia in. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Using the wire shelves like a ladder, Kent hoisted himself into the ceiling. Georgia started after him and he pulled her up. 

A fist broke through the door as Jack started up the shelving. Seeing a meal, the freaks doubled their efforts on the door, and were joined by some more. The door couldn’t hold the pressure. 

Jack pulled his feet into the ceiling just as the door gave way. 

The survivors looked at each other, relieved. As Jack replaced the tile, both beings ambled in, looking around for what they thought would be prey. 

From there, they found their way over the staterooms, in disgusted awe of the carnage and sorrow. They saw a handful of other survivors, all of which refused to leave their rooms or were dying from bites; of course with so many decks, they knew it was likely there were others, but no way to reach them. 

****

They reached the lifeboat deck as dusk was settling in. Miscreations were meandering around the deck. 

“We will need to distract them,” Jack said, “so we will have to decide on a diversion. If we can find something that will keep them occupied long enough for us to get a boat over the side and in the water.”

“I’m not so sure that we can, though we know they like noise, because the screaming riled them up…” Georgia said. 

“What if one of us stayed here in the ceiling and made noises over there on one of the ducts? It would draw them to one side. They can’t climb, so it’d probably be okay. Then, when the boat splashes down, they drop behind the zombies and dive over the side?” Kent suggested. 

“It’s good in theory, but in practice? What will stop them there. There has to be a way to slow them down more than that, you know, to give the bait a fighting chance,” Georgia whispered.

“The diesel and lighter fluid. This duct goes in a circle, but there is probably enough of fuel and lighter fluid to make a trail all around the deck and on the crowd. Then, start the noise. Then, jump down and just before diving, drop a match,” Mr. FEMA said. 

“The only thing wrong with that plan is we are losing daylight, and spreading the fluid will take time,” Scarface said. 

“And it will take both of us guys to get the lifeboat off of the side. Georgia’s strong, but not that strong.”

“Since we won’t find anything else, I’ll be the bait,” Georgia agreed.

“I know it’s supposed to be women and children first, but I think this our best chance,” Jack said almost apologetically.

Time to prove that women are just as good.

****

Kent and Georgia spread the fuel over the deck and monsters. Kent and Jack took Georgia’s supplies. Georgia used her boots to bang on the duct, and while the noise kept the creatures occupied, Kent and Jack managed to get the boat over the side of the ship. Georgia could just hear the splash over the cacophony. She stopped banging. And the growling dispersed. 

Perfect. Now, all I’ve got to do is get far enough away quickly and quietly, drop the match, climb, and then dive. Seems easy enough. 

The joke was on her. She dropped down between two of the freaks. She managed to dodge and light a match all at the same time (by the grace of God), drop it, climb onto the railing and dive. As she swam for her companions, the screams began.

           ****

    After being on the water for nearly 14 days, Kent smiled suddenly and jumped up. The boat rocked. Jack was about to scold him, when he yelled, “Another ship! We are saved!” 

    Jack looked out and agreed to that conclusion. Nearly starving but incredibly thirsty, Kent and Jack used the oars to manipulate their capsule toward the ship. Georgia was holding up her sweatshirt like a flag and waving it. 

    It took time, but the three finally made it close enough to the ship that someone on deck would be able to hear them. 

    “HEY! HELP! PLEASE!” 

    Two women and a man jumped off the deck toward them, and landed in the water. Then five more people. Those five did not come back up. And three sacks plopped aboard the lifeboat and the three survivors helped the newcomers aboard.

    Georgia looked up, and saw a zombie pacing the deck.

    “Mr. FEMA. Kent. Look up there.”

    They did. Jack and Kent groaned. 

    Georgia reached out to help the last newcomer aboard, and a strange hand came up from the water and scratched her. 

    “Georgie…” Kent said.

    “Now, Mansuper, we don’t know about scratches…” FEMA started.

    “Yeah,” Georgia said with a shaky voice and a forced smile, “just air and bites…”

    “I know how to amputate, but I don’t think we have the equipment here,” Jack said sadly. 

    The three new bodies sat in the boat and shivered and looked Georgia over as if looking at a body in a casket.

    “It’s okay,” Georgia said as she handed the screwdriver to Jack, fighting the shake in her voice. “If need be, pike me. It’s okay. Meantime, it’s my turn to nap.” And make my peace with my life and talk to God. 

    Georgia laid her head on the side of the boat as it floated away from the second lost ship. 

    “If I don’t make it, I’ll see if God will let me come back and let you know if the cake is a lie,” Georgia said, knowing full well that was not a possibility, and Heaven is not a lie.

    “What is she talking about cake for?” Jack asked Kent quietly.

    “It’s from a videogame, Jack.”

    “Oh. I see.”

As she closed her eyes the refrain from Bullet came to her mind: “So if I survive, then I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”