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Anne Boleyn has nightmares. She’s always had them (a traumatic past life will do that to you), but now they’re filled with fresh horrors. They were filled to the brim with images Kitty. Kitty jumping, Kitty calling for help, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty.
The medical examiner had told her how she died. She had suffered severe blood loss and shattered almost every bone in her body by hitting the water. Anne had thought that know exactly how her cousin died would make her feel better. It didn’t. Instead, her mind took that information and used it against her.
It somehow figured out how Kitty looked when she jumped. When she slit her wrists. When she hit the water. Anne hated it. Unlike others (namely, Catherine of Aragon), Anne was not scared of her grief. She was not afraid to burst into tears whenever she needed to. Most people would be ashamed to let tears fall because, by all societal standards, you should not cry. Anne didn’t care though. Maybe it was just her personality, or maybe, her favorite person in the world just died and there was nothing she could do about it.
Katherine had left Anne a letter. She refused to read it. She didn’t need to give her brain more nightmare fuel. Some might argue that it would give her closure, but closure wasn’t what she needed. What she needed was her cousin back. And that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, was it?
«☆»
Anne went about her life as best she could. As the days went on, the nightmares grew more intense, getting to the point where Anne would do anything to ward off sleep. Is this how Cathy feels all the time? It’s terrible.
One day, while sitting in her bed, trying her very best to not fall asleep, Anne heard a familiar voice. “Annie?” it whispered. She whipped her around, and standing there was sweet, seventeen-year-old Katherine Howard.
“Kitty? Wh-how? You died! I know it, what in the actual fu-”
“Language, Anne. I’m not really here. I’m a hallucination, created by you.”
“What do you mean?” Anne asked.
“A hallucination. You see, when people don’t get enough sleep, they start to hallucinate. Congratulations Anne. You have officially ruined yourself.” The fake Kitty said, malice dripping from her voice. Anne realized that this was not her Kitty. Her Kitty was soft and sweet and loving and nothing like this Nightmare Katherine.
“Go away.”
“Well, Annie, I’d thought you’d be pleased to see me again. You’re always dreaming about me, talking about me, wanting me back. Well, here I am. Am I not good enough for you?” Nightmare Katherine said. “You know, that’s how I felt before jumping. Like I wasn’t good enough. Here you are, proving me right. Nobody here thought I was good enough.”
Anne gasped. “N-no! That isn’t true! She was good enough! We loved her! We didn’t want her to- to- to kill herself!” Tears were streaming down her face. She just needed to remember that this was not her Kitty. This version is fake. Not. Real. “You aren’t even real! You’re just in my head, and I don’t know what she was thinking when she died, so how can you know? You only know what I know.”
“Fair point. But still, you failed her, did you not? You know it, and I know it. What are you gonna do about it? Cry?” and with that, Nightmare Katherine disappeared.
Anne stared at the spot that Nightmare Katherine had been standing in disbelief. Did a hallucination of her own making just insult her? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been doing that to herself, but for it to come from the spitting image of Katherine Howard hurt. Anne continued to stare at that spot until thin shafts of sunlight filtered in through her blinds. She decided to never tell a person about Nightmare Katherine and continue about her life.
«☆»
Several months later, Anne decided it would be nice to make some cookies. Usually, Jane did all the cooking and baking, but she had been busy lately. Things were going well until Anne began to smell smoke. She took the cookies out of the oven immediately but had no idea what to do next. Jane wasn’t home, so Anne went to the most responsible person she knew: Catherine of Aragon.
“CATHERINE I NEED YOUR HELP THE COOKIES I MADE AR- what the hell are you doing?” Anne knew exactly what she was doing. She had thought about once or twice but never acted. Catherine dropped the razor blade to the ground. She looked up at Anne in complete shock, blood welling up on her leg. By the look of the bloody tissues in her trashcan, this had been going on for a while.
“Anne, I swear, this isn’t what it looks like,” Anne called bullshit, but something else was racing through her mind. She needed to know,
“Are you going to leave us too?” Anne could hear her voice break somewhere in the middle of the question, but she wasn’t all that present. Anne cannot handle another death. That would absolutely destroy her.
“No, love, I’m never leaving you.” Anne could feel her panic subside, just a little bit.
“Then why?” she asked, still confused. Why would anybody do that to themselves? She just didn’t get it. She sank to the floor, becoming overwhelmed. Catherine sighed.
“I just… I don’t really know. All of my feelings were stuck inside, and I didn’t have a way to let them out… so I started cutting. I hate myself more than you could imagine when I do this, so please, don’t start.”
Anne didn’t feel a need to start, but she just had to get one last question out, “Why didn’t you just talk to me? You can always talk to me, you know that”
“I can?” Catherine’s voice broke on the last bit. Anne’s heart shattered into pieces.
“Of course you can! I love you so much, and after all that you’ve done for us over these last few months, it would be terrible if I didn’t let you come to me! I’ve come to in the middle of the night several times, how could it possibly be fair if I didn’t return the favor?” Catherine began to sob hard, and Anne rose from her position and guided her to the bed. She held Catherine until the tears stopped, and then some more after that.
“I want you to promise me something. You will stop cutting. Immediately. And whenever you feel as though you want to cut yourself, or are feeling down, you come talk to me. I will be there, any time of day. Can you do that?”
Catherine looked down at her hands and then nodded. “I think so.”
«☆»
Slowly, Catherine began to open herself up to Anne, which Anne thought would have never happened. She could tell that the other queens were confused by their newfound closeness. She didn’t care though. She was busy keeping Catherine safe.
As it turns out, Catherine hadn’t read her letter either. They promised each other, late one night when they ought to be sleeping, that the minute they finished reading the letter, they would find the other person. They knew that being alone after reading the last thing she left them would be absolute hell.
Catherine read hers on November 28. Anne didn’t know what it was, maybe a small voice of a certain Nightmare that popped in every now and then when Anne was staying up too long, or just a motherly instinct from all those years ago. She sat up in bed, waiting. She was reading a book recommended to her by Cathy: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. It was quite good so far. Anne was at a bit of a slow part of the book when her bedroom door was flung open. There was Catherine, standing there with tears streaming down her face.
“I had a feeling tonight was the night.” she simply said. Catherine nodded and crawled into bed. Anne placed her book on the nightstand and wrapped her arms around Catherine. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly. She felt Catherine shake her head. Anne turned out the light and they laid there for the rest of the night.
«☆»
It would take a bit longer for Anne to gather enough courage to read her letter. It was New Year’s Eve when she fished it out of her sock drawer where she had placed it for safekeeping. In loopy cursive, there lay her name:
Anne
She was nervous as she opened the seal. What if what Kitty had written was just like what Nightmare Kitty had said? That she wasn’t good enough, that they didn’t love her? Anne pulled out the letter carefully and unfolded it. She began to read.
My dear Annie,
I am so sorry to have left you like this. I know you weren’t expecting it. I don’t think that anyone was. I’d like to tell you a few things before we delve into more detail. Number One: This was not your fault. Understand? This was not your fault. Number Two: I love you more than anything in this world. I feel the most terrible about leaving you out of all the queens. You were the only one who truly understood me. Number Three: G-d and I have made peace. He may not like that I am ending my life prematurely, but I have a strong feeling that He will still let me into Heaven.
I know that you will be blaming yourself for this. It wasn’t your fault I swear it wasn’t. Annie, you have to understand, coming back to life in the 21 century was hard for all of us, but especially me. The history books painted me as someone I was not. The internet painted me as someone I was not. History teachers all say that I was someone else than who I am. But all around me are voices saying that I am one thing: a slut. I know that I am not a slut. You know that. But others do not. They paint me as a whore who wanted it all. Their words reverberate all through my head, all the time. I cannot make it stop on my own, but there is one thing that can. I hope it worked. I hope that the voices will stop after I hit the water.
I’d like to ask you a small favor which would mean the world to me. Can you pray for me? After I die, I will be meeting with G-d, and I know not if He will be merciful. I would like you to pray that He lets me into His kingdom, that my soul will not be lost, and that He shows me mercy. I’ve been praying every night, talking to Him, making sure that He’ll be okay with my decision. Good lord, I hope He is.
Annie: I. Love. You. Know that, please. There is nothing you could have done to save me, I don’t think. You did absolutely nothing wrong, you know that? It was other people. It was me. My death is on me, not you, and not any of the queens. I am sorry that you won’t have anyone to make beheaded jokes with or to cry with at night when the nightmares get too bad. I hope that you find a new person. Jane and Cathy have helped me a few times, but I have a feeling you’ll like Aragon a bit more.
Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone because of this, but I think that some will think differently. I don’t know if I can stress this enough but I am SO sorry. I mean it. If there was another choice, if I could find a way to survive this, I would stay alive for all of you. But presently, I see no other option. I love you.
With all the love I have to offer,
Kitty
«☆»
Anne was sobbing uncontrollably. She faintly heard a knock on her door.
“Anne? It’s almost midnight, would you like to come downstairs?” She heard Catherine say through the door. When she didn’t reply, Catherine opened the door. She saw Anne on the bed, letter in hand, crying. Catherine took the letter and set it on the nightstand so Anne couldn’t get tears on it. She knew that she would hate herself if she had ruined what Kat gave her.
“Oh, Anne,” Catherine whispered. She pulled her into her arms and they stayed like that until they heard the other queens counting down downstairs. Anne took out her phone and together they watched the time change from 11:59 PM to 12:00 AM.
“Happy New Year, Catherine of Aragon,” Anne said quietly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. She kissed Catherine on the cheek.
“Happy New Year, Anne Boleyn,” Catherine said and she kissed Anne’s tear-stained cheek. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Anne nodded her head.
“Please…” she whispered. So Catherine stayed.
«☆»
Anne began to pray for Katherine, every day. She didn’t think that Kitty had meant to pray for her every day, but Anne did. She prayed that she was safe and warm and that she was no longer haunted by the voices. Anne’s nightmares about Kitty had a sharp decrease. Anne had a feeling that Katherine wasn’t suffering, wherever she was.
She knew that no matter what, Katherine was with her, watching over her. Anne Boleyn began to move on and put her life back together into some semblance of normal.