I'm an idiot. 

Someone like Anne only comes around once and I let her run away from me.

I watch Anne leave, towards the falling tower of rubble and sigh.

How could I have let her go? She'll die.

Then, I remember.

She can't die. And neither can I.

I still don't know how or why. All I remember is leaping in front of her, hoping and wishing that I'll save her.

I thought I would've died. But then I wake up with her, eighteen years in the past.

"I need answers." I sigh to myself, and then take off after her, trying desperately to keep up.

"Anne, wait!" I call. She leads me to the street across from the towers, and I speed up, trying to stop her. "Stop!"

"What do you want, Adam?!" She yells, anger in her eyes.

"I want answers," I catch up to her, blocking her path. "Please, just talk to me."

"There's a big building coming down just up ahead. People are dying and you want to talk?" She pulls her arm out of my grip. "Go to hell, Adam."

"I'm taking you with me." I do the last thing I ever believed I'd do.

I grab a shard of glass from the ground and plunge it straight into Anne's heart.

And twist it.

~

It's dark. Cold.

The air smells musty, and I can feel Anne shiver next to me.

Oh god, I hope I didn't hurt her.

Silence for what seemed forever. Then, there's a sucking noise and we're transported into a new decade.

~

"What the hell?" Anne turns to me, anger in her eyes. "What was that for?"

"We need to talk." I say, taking in our surroundings.

"So you killed me?" Anne hisses, ignoring the strange looks from mysterious passerby. "That was the best thing you could come up with to get me to talk?"

"Better than having you run off towards a collapsing tower all by yourself."

"Touche," She says, moving to a bench nearby, "Try to figure out what year it is."

I look around. Elegantly dressed couples walk the streets. The women peer at us from underneath the brim of their parasols, and the men are a little less obvious. They gawk at us from behind their brimmed hats. Carriages clatter on the cobblestone streets, and the streetlights are out, most likely lit by street lighters when the sun goes down.

I still can't figure out where we are.

"1910." Anne whispers and I groan. 

Dammit.

"Well, you wanted to talk, so talk," Anne sits down, crossing her arms, "We have all infinity."

"How can you not die?" I ask. "How can I not die? How is this-"

"Happening?" Anne sighs, stretching her finger out on her dress. "The night before I was hung, a curse was laid on me."

"A curse. What cur-"

Anne shushes me, "Let me finish," she says, stretching her legs out on the bench, "I was in jail with Martha and Giles Corey, as well as an old woman who spoke Dutch. I didn't know the woman, but Martha and Giles were farmers, not associated with people in my circle," She sighs, "I was as rich as rich could be. My mother fought desperately for us to rise above our station, and she succeeded. Upon her guidance, I married William when I was twenty two, in 1688. We were happy at first, but then things changed."

Her shoulders shake, but she pulls herself together. "He met another woman, one much closer to his age. They were in love, and he got her pregnant. All they wanted was to be together. He didn't need me. He only wanted her."

"Anne, I-" 

"He told her to accuse me of the highest crime at the time: witchcraft. She obliged and they got rid of me. I was carted away to prison, ridiculed, my name and love torn away from me. I pleaded with them to let me go, that I was innocent, that I didn't want to die. It didn't matter."

She takes a breath and continues. "In their minds, I was already dead."

"But the night before, a blind, old woman came up to me. She was so sweet, a mother that I never had. She let me lean into her but then said some strange Dutch words to me. I blacked out and when I woke up, it was to be my last day in 1692," She turns to me, "William came to my execution. The last thing I saw were his cold eyes, reflecting the love lost between us. I thought I would be dead after that, like so many before me. Then, I woke up in 1803."

"Men were instantly drawn to me, like flies to honey. But after I died, they would die," She looks over at me, sadness in her gaze, "That would've happened to you too."

I blink, taking in what I just heard. "But why did you change your name?"

"I couldn't risk anyone knowing who I was," Anne answers, "It was probably a long shot but if anyone knew an Anne Hutcherson from Salem, I was doomed. So I changed my name every century. I guess you could say I was afraid."

"What were you afraid of?" I ask, putting a hand on her knee.

"Dying." She looks up at me with wide, pleading eyes. "I was afraid of someone realizing I was a freak and killing me for good."

𝒮𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂 𝐹𝒶𝒸𝓉 #𝟫: 𝐼𝓃 𝟣𝟨𝟫𝟤, 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒰𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓉𝓊𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓎𝑒𝓉 𝑒𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉. 𝒯𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒻𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝑔𝓃𝒾𝓏𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓃𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉.