10 October, 1902
Today my life has ended. The light in which I navigate has burned out, and is never to be re-lit again. How can one sum up such an experience? I deem it impossible.
17 October, 1902
Today, I buried my husband. I can scarcely believe it myself. It feels as though my soul has been ripped from within me, and my air is out of reach. I cannot possibly summarise the agony I am in. With some help from James's close friends, I finally got out of bed four days later. Thankfully, our own mothers helped me with the funeral arrangements.
Ava
In the early morning hours of October 9, 1902, James and I were rudely awakened. A hand was tightly clapped against my mouth, and I was violently lifted from the bed. James and I were dragged in opposite directions. I was led down the dark hallway to some unknown room, and thrown onto a bed. Instantly, I scrambled backward, until I hit the wall behind me.
"Whatever you ask in ransom, I am quite sure my husband will pay it. Here, take my engagement ring, only do not harm us. We're very reasonable people." My captor, what I could see of him, smiled wickedly.
"Oh, it's not your money or jewels we're after, Madam. And though it's a nice ring, I am more interested in what lurks beneath that nightgown of yours," he smiled. He then sprang at me, and I screamed loudly, causing him to clap his hand over my mouth. "No more of that, do you understand?"
I nodded. He slowly removed his hand. Once more, I screamed unlike I had ever before. He slapped me hard across my face, sliding me slightly across the bed. I grasped my cheek, and looked at him defiantly. I didn't cry. I was actually quite angry. He lunged at me again, slamming me down on the mattress, and tried pulling my gown up.
I fought hard, shoving his callused hands back down, struggling to free myself from his power. I was now crying, out of fear that this was to be my fate: to be violated.
And then, we were interrupted.
"William, George requests her presence," he smiled.
William yanked me up, and dragged me along, until we were outside of the house.
James was in the hold of two very large men. His face was bloodied and bruised extensively. I rushed at him, but was restrained by William and some other male. There was a man, who I assumed was George, who was ominously circling James. Then, he glanced over at me.
"Ah...this must be your wife!" He approached me. "She's quite a filly, I must say." He reached out his hand to stroke my face. I pulled my head away. He laughed.
"And, she's feisty to boot. Stay alert, love. You're in for quite a show."
He walked over to James, and punched James in the stomach. I screamed, and tried to look away. The unnamed male grabbed my hair, and held it so that I couldn't look away. George lunged again at James, and punched his face. I sank down, trying to shield myself from the scene, but I was pulled back up. I stood there for five minutes, watching some man I'd never seen brutally beat my husband in front of me.
Suddenly, George pulls a gun.
"No!!" I scream. George cocked the hammer, and looked at both of us.
"The time has come, for you both to say your goodbyes." I began sobbing, which garnered a look of annoyance from George. "An unkind gentleman wouldn't offer you this opportunity." James looked at me pathetically, and smiled. All the blood on his teeth made me nauseous.
"Ava, always remember how much I love you," he groaned. I looked at his wincing face, and began crying.
"James, everything is going to be fine."
"Ava, just say you love me, and get it over with."
"I do love you, James. I really do." I look at George. "Please, don't kill him."
He shrugs his shoulders.
"Sorry, my mind is made up." He turned the gun at James, and I closed my eyes as the gun went off. As I heard James's body hit the ground, I screamed shrilly. George ordered the men to follow him, and they left. I fell to the ground, and crawled towards James. After reaching him, I applied pressure to his wound.
"Jamie, it's going to be okay. Someone will come, and save you. You're going to live, Jamie. It will be fine." I sat there, screaming for help and covering his wound. Finally Frith, our butler came running across the lawn, followed by Dr. Barnett, and several of the staff. I was thankful that the servants were close by. Frith and Smythe carried James into the house. I was ordered to sit in the parlour while the surgeon worked on James. I sat in the parlour, with Amelia and Phillip for what seemed an eternity.
Finally I heard Frith and Smythe descending the stairs. The surgeon was wringing his hands, while Smythe and Frith looked mournful. I shot up, walked to Smythe, and looked at him pleadingly, hoping James was still alive. When Smythe's reaction didn't change, my legs gave out. Smythe and Phillip caught me. I cannot remember anything but crying and screaming.
Smythe carried me upstairs to where James and I had been sleeping hours before. They'd covered him with a sheet. His face was still bloody and bruised. He didn't look anything like the James I'd fallen in love with in 1895. He was quite different.
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