(It's bad because the prompt was utter bullshit, plus the 2 page limit I had to uphold. Ugh, I feel like I could actually write something decent with this witch accusation set up if I didn't have such a lackluster prompt such as "fate rules people's lives, choosing to interfere with it will lead to sorrow")

     With the weakest of whimpers, she hastily bolted the door shut. Marie could still hear them outside, faintly, through the thick wood of the front door of her husband's humble home.

     "We have a confession to make! Please, hear us out!"

     "Our friend—no, former friend, is a witch! Marie Arkwright is a witch!"

     "Yesterday, Miss Bradbury told us that Marie came to pick up some milk after it spoiled..."

     She wanted the words to all go away. She was not a witch. Those were all lies! Shakily pushing herself off the door, she stumbled down the hall, past her wide-eyed little brothers who were sitting on the floor with a deck of cards, and broke out into a run towards her room at the back. The door was slammed with a force that Marie never knew that she was capable of. With her mind in a frantic frenzy of trying to sort through all the mixed emotions boiling in her chest, Marie held back a scream of frustration as her legs gave out entirely, bringing her body down with them. She collapsed on the ground with her back rested against the closed door.

     When one is stabbed in the back, the first thing that they feel is confusion. Confusion then morphs into surprise, then realization, and then a burst of emotion that logic cannot wash away. Marie crawled into a fetal position, feeling so utterly vulnerable, as she wept for an answer to her questions. Why did she have to have to suffer the same fate as her mother? Why did her friends of ten years glare at her so harshly minutes before? Why did they scream out phrases that stung even harder than their stares? Was it because she was not an obedient enough woman in her family? Was it because she kept to herself her entire life? Was it because they were afraid of being affiliated with a girl hated by her own father? Was it because the man that she reluctantly married was a past lover of her closest friend? Was that it? Was this witch hunt simply out of petty jealousy? Marie shook her head in disbelief. Whatever the reason was, did she deserve any of this cruel treatment? Surely, Marie did not deserve getting branded as a witch. Surely, she did not deserve to die. It was then, as she blankly gawked at the patchy ceiling, that she realized why every man, woman and child averted their gazes from her this past month. The knife lodged in her chest dug even deeper into her heart as she remembered the whispers of witches into ears whenever she passed by a couple or a group. Everybody suspected her all along, and she never noticed it. A couple of stray tears ran down her cheeks as she hissed her next poison-laced words. "It is all of their fault. I can't die. I don't want to die."

     "If you had a choice, would you settle for revenge?"

     Marie instantly snapped herself out of her bewildered thoughts as she sharply looked around. There was a voice, sounding so clear and nearby, that she was sure was not hers. She could feel the rhythmic beats of her heart grow faster and faster as the voice inside of her head repeated the same words again.

     "If you had a choice, would you settle for revenge? Would you want revenge against those who betrayed you? What if I, Asmodai, gave you the chance?"

     She was going mad, hearing voices in her head that shouldn't be there. Marie started laughing bitterly, self-deprecatingly, as she convinced herself that was starting to become insane. Her hysteria grew even more violent as the voice, low and breathy and seemingly behind her, continued to invade her thoughts with those of vengeance.

     No, Marie did not want revenge. No matter how many times the voice pushed her around, Marie was intent on dying a saint. If she was subjected to the same fate as the woman who raised her, she would die a holy martyr. God was all-seeing, and he would accept her into Heaven for the wrongdoing that these wretched people inflicted upon her. Was that not right?

     "Do you remember that day? It was nighttime, and even you testified against her. They told you that she was a witch, and you repeated the same lines after you remembered how resentful her words were the previous night. You never really liked her, did you? Do you remember the look that she gave you, being dragged out of that church? Those were the same glassy eyes that stared down her witch hunters from that rope, even in death. Do you remember how you opened that door after the screams you've heard outside?"

     Her breath hitched. She was going to die, just like her. Asmodai was right. Marie was going to hang tomorrow. There was no other option for a witch under the scornful eyes of those she lived with. Her neighbors, friends and family would all be there, present as she was paraded to the nearest tree. All twelve siblings of hers would be watching. She imagined the eyes of her two little brothers and their sickened faces. "I'm not supposed to die," she started, wild-eyed. Her words were breathy and barely comprehensible, but she knew that the voice, Asmodai, hung to every word. "I'd wish to see them all die!" With that one last and final shriek, Marie's body slumped to a heap on the floor after the exhaustion finally took its toll.

     The two little brothers, crowded around Marie's door, were too afraid to turn the handle after hearing the biting cry from their beloved elder sister. The youngest of the two, after a long stillness, spoke up with a clear, yet hesitant voice. "I'll punch in the face of whoever's saying that you're a witch! I swear I'll fight them for you! Nobody calls my sister a witch!" Met with complete and utter silence, his face fell, and the older brother wrapped a reassuring arm around him. "I promise, Marie. The thing with Mama isn't gonna happen ever again." His arm tugged by his older brother, the boy turned around and waved a sad goodbye to his locked-up sister, before turning on his heel to direct his wrath against anyone who uttered the word witch.

     "Wait, Queen Elizabeth is moving Court here to Windsor Castle? Why the sudden change?" Emmett asked, turning towards the servant next to him. After catching news of Queen Elizabeth's transition from London to Windsor Castle, he couldn't help but be curious.

     The man raised a brow at Emmett's apparent obliviousness. "You haven't heard? The plague hit London pretty hard, you know. Spreading to other places as well. Her Highness also threatened that everybody coming in from London was going to be hanged. Never thought even the Queen would be this terrified. Says a lot about how bad it is over there."

     Emmett visibly paled, almost dropping the silver tray that he was holding loosely in his hands. "What? I have family East of London! My dearest Marie and I just married as well! Is this really true? After all, I haven't heard of the word plague in years! Even if there was sickness, it would probably only be in the deepest alleyways of the city, not the countryside." He gasped for breath after his frantic rambling, eyes trained on the man that, in that moment, looked like Death itself.

     The man slowly shook his head, which made Emmett's heart nearly leap out of his chest. "I'm sorry, Arkwright, but rumors say that the outbreak started right on the outskirts of East London."