Work Text:
1816, Pennsylvania
"The lawyer is late," Henry observed.
"Certainly," Rosalie said, smiling.
"Rose, why are you smiling?"
"He is swarmed by flies."
"What?"
She refused to elaborate, standing up, eyes pointed towards the exit.
"I see what Mrs. Swann means now. Sit, Mrs. Swann." The judge eyed Rosalie.
She looked irritated, but followed the request.
"What? What does she mean?"
"She killed the lawyer."
"Oh. She's simply joking."
"Bad joke," the judge muttered. He thought for a moment, discussing silently with himself. "She has been accused of murdering her father, killing a mans cat. Now murdering her lawyer… she is to be condemned to the McCann mental asylum. This has been long overdue."
"It was not her wearing his head! Her bonnet looks nothing like that cat's pelt! And she was joking just now!"
Rosalie laughed louder with each sentence.
"She will be sent to the asylum, that is final. Be quiet!" he snapped at Rosalie. "We will investigate the lawyer; If he really is dead, or not."
A man dressed formally in a long coat took Rosalie by the arm. She bit at the man, but he, sturdy, kept walking with her outside. Henry kept behind. He watched as they put her in a carriage. Horses black as charcoal pulled it down the street, headed toward the secluded asylum.
He reentered the building and saw a small object on the wooden floor. He picked it up and looked closer. It was Rosalie's tooth. He dropped it, backed out, and left for his house.
Mr. Swann kept in his house for the rest of the day. It rattled with chilling winds, even though it was June.
The winter, bleeding into spring, now summer, left many delirious. That must be why everyone is so keen to spread false rumors of his Rosalie. He so longed to comfort her. He should have fought more so that she could stay with him. But he had been fighting for a few months now. He moped for a bit longer.
It is September. My Rose, please come back, he wrote, What have they done to my sweet Rosalie? It's cold without you. Love, Henry.
November. Knocks and bangs crowded the door. Henry hesitantly opened the door. He was greeted with the most beautiful sight, Rosalie.
"They're asleep! They're asleep!" she yelled, running in the house.
"My Rose! Please." He held her shoulder. "I made dinner prior… partridge. Come to the kitchen."
She nodded, her eyes unblinking. He brushed her knotty dark hair out of her face once she sat in the kitchen.
"...who is asleep?"
"The guards."
"At six? Wait-"
"They fell asleep! By the door."
"Do they know you are gone!?"
"By now." She chuckled and spit on her knife.
"Rose…" he trailed off as she got up from her seat and started to chase him around the table. They raced around the kitchen for a couple minutes. Henry stopped and gasped, "What-?" Rosalie jabbed him in the stomach with the knife. Red stained the lace of the tablecloth. She grabbed a vase on the table and smashed it next to his head. The pieces of red vase blended in with the wine spilt on the floor. Red as a beautiful rose.
"Rose…" he could only mutter her name. She giggled and laughed. "What have they done," he whispered. She kept stabbing him in the stomach, and kept him pinned on the wet floor.
"Come, Lord, Jesus, be our Guest, and bless what You have bestowed!" she screamed as she carved a crude mark of Cain into her arm, then using the same sharp knife to stab her husband's chest. He faintly smiled at her one last time as he saw his own heart in her hand.