Bound

Year 2024
Mexico City

"Your own father..." Diana spoke, heaviness in her words as she'd heard the last of my mortal life.

"Yes." I understood and welcomed her sympathies towards me.

"How? Why? What reason? I just don't understand, nothing is adding up to even do that to her." She began to ramble, sniffling from time to time. "Just why?" She looked to me for answers I couldn't give her.

"My mother was very dear to me but she'd have her fair share of secrets I'd come to discover after our death."

"No amount of secrets is worth being hanged and tortured for." She sighed, head hanging heavy in her hands.

She was right, there was no justification for what my father did. I didn't even bother asking why after I'd came back to the village that night either.

It was already too late by the time I'd killed him.

"My father was a kind man and a loving father some of the time. However, he was greedy and power hungry. I'm sure he had his own justification for what he'd done..." I cleared my throat, the words not finding their way out. "He was my father but he was power hungry. The only thing the Church did was, magnify, that."

I shrugged, not even being able to formulate what I wanted to say.

"Aren't you angry for what he did?"

"I was but after so long I stopped being angry with him, especially since I ended his life."

April 13th, 1643
Salem, Massachusetts

"Sybil, it's time to wake up..."

I stirred around a bit as this voice called to me. It sounded so, distant yet so close at the same time; I'd never heard it before but somehow it felt oddly familiar.

"Sybil..." it echoed into my ear, causing my eyes to slowly open themselves up.

Looking around at where I'd been lying... everything felt so blurry. Out of the ordinary. I was outside, lying on wet grass under a big bright moon that'd seemed to welcome me with open arms.

"Hello little one." A man with red eyes, appeared above me as he'd smiled down at me with sharp pointed teeth.

He had dark brown hair with grey roots that sat half up in a bun and half down. His skin was tan but not like the tan you'd get from being outside all day, it was a natural one. And he bore thick peppery eyes brows and a thick mustache over his lip.

How strange... did I know this man? Did he know me? He seemed to because he kept calling my name...

My name... what was it again?

I can't remember... it was like my mind was not my own.

Who was I?

Slowly sitting myself up once a leaf touched my face, there was this pain in my chest for some reason? It felt like I had been stabbed through it with the tip of a riffle.

Looking through the bloodied up and tattered dress I seemed to be wearing, a thick hole that appeared to be closing at rapid pace was there. How did I get that?

As a matter of fact, how did I get all these wounds that were healing rapidly all over my body?

What was happening to me?