Ian: You have something to say.

Elizabeth: Why you? Why does it have to be you?

Ian: You chose me for this. I should be asking you, “Why me?”

Elizabeth says nothing and stares out the window into the rain.

“I want to be back in Ireland,” I said, and just like that, I was back in my cottage, staring out in the rain. The fire place was rolling over the peat logs and Ian was standing beside me as I gazed out the window into the night rain.

“Why here, huh?” he asked.

“It’s safe.”

“You feel threatened then?”

“I do.”

And the rain fell.

“He found me,” I said and Ian shifted his hand on the pummel of his sword. He kicked at the grains in the wood floor.

“I want others to know. To warn them. I want him in jail. To die in prison.”

“Why?” Ian asked.

“Because that’s what he deserves.”

“Why are we really here, Angela?”

I looked at Bergen.

“The masks are gone,” he said. “I am Bergen. Not Ian. You are no longer Elizabeth. Everyone knows, Angela.”

I sighed and stared back at the rain.

“I spoke to Judith on Thursday.”

“And?”

“I told her, I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” Bergen stared at his hands upon his pummel. “I told her I didn’t want to fear. That I was tired of being afraid. Of hiding.” Thick tears burned my eyes and fell as I looked at Bergen. “I don’t want to be weak,” I said. “I don’t want to be small or vulnerable anymore. I’m tired of hiding.”

“What can he do to you?” Bergen asked.

“He can…” I shook my head. “Nothing now.”

“Then why are you scared?”

“He…” I bit my lip as I forced down a knot that closed my throat. “He has a way of talking. A way that makes me… so small. He controls me. He has a way of making me feel like a child all over again. And I’m young again. Too weak to fight him… And the way he spoke, it made me feel like I was the adult and the pedophile preying upon a small boy.”

“But you’re no longer a child with a wooden sword.”

I looked at him.

“You are stronger, older, wiser. Your sword is steel and sharp. You can wield it now like the proper warrior you’ve become. You’re not the same.”

I dropped my face to my hands and cried.

“What is it you always said, Angela?”

I stopped crying as I remembered, and spoke:

“I have always taken delight in conversing with learned persons. Whenever I see someone who shows some power of the mind, who…, who can do or say something better than others, I am compelled to fall in love with him.”

“And wasn’t that Erik, and Isaac…”

“And Raven,” I whispered, remembering. “Oh, how much I miss Raven.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

“I thought you didn’t love him.”

“Maybe. Maybe I just loved the idea of him. And maybe I loved who he was. Maybe I loved who he is. Maybe I loved who he wanted to be, the part he buried deep, the part only I could see. His gentle heart.”

“What do you want, Angela?”

“Please call me Elizabeth.”

“Why?”

“It’s easier.”

“It’s a mask.”

“It is. And it’s easier.”

“Alright, Elizabeth. What do you want?”

“I want… I want to not be scared anymore. I want to not be afraid. I want to be strong enough to confront my past, to confront the day, and people. I want to be strong enough to live and laugh…”

I heard the match and smelled the sweet pipe leaf. I looked at Bergen who held the long pipe to his mouth as he worked to light the dried leaf in the bowl.

“Bergen?”

“Hm?”

“I want to be strong enough to love.