She was a plain Jane. A regular girl. Bland skirt, messy hair, muddy hands, soot on her palms.
One wouldn’t think she was anything out of the ordinary. Unmarried, still lived with her parents. Bowed to authority. Little to no friends. Grocery-shopped every Thursday.
She walked across the market faster that day. The list was longer by a couple things today.
She stopped to buy an expensive cigar, and a bottle of whiskey for her Papa.
She stopped to buy the nice red bonnet her Mama loved.
She stopped to buy some greens for dinner tomorrow.
She stopped to buy the sleep medicine her maid would be not-so-grateful to receive.
She stopped to buy white sheets. She liked the clean color.
She stopped to buy a piece of cake, a treat for herself, for later tonight.
And finally, she stopped to buy a hatchet to kill her parents later tonight.
Lizzie Borden hurried back home faster that day. The list was longer by a couple things today. She was excited, thrilled, tickled even. Yet, she was at peace.