'Sisterly Love' - Prologue

Sisterly Love



“Is the sin of omission in itself a lie?”



Prologue



How great is the sin of omission?  What consequence does it earn?  Fifty years?  Sixty-five years?  Eighty years?  Apparently more…

Eighty-five years—that’s how long I’ve been here—nearly eighty-five years.  Locked within this cage of my own making, waiting.  And even then I don’t know if I’m waiting for Heaven or Hell?

Will I be raised up to Heaven for protecting my sister?  Or condemned to Hell for allowing a murderer escape justice?

I should have expected what happened.  But it took me, as it took all of us, by complete surprise.

Of course, no one else knew her as I did.  That was her greatest asset—the hiding of her true nature from the world.

Was that my first, worst sin, maybe my only sin.

What hurt me—made me angry and disappointed in Emma—was not that she did it.  It was inevitable.  I see that now.  In truth, in her mind, it was long overdue.  No, but that she did it when she was safely away.  The cunning thing arranged for everyone to believe that she was outside of the circle of suspicion that was closing around Bridget and me.  That she left us alone and vulnerable—stooges for her wicked deeds.

Perhaps she believed that they would never look to me.  But surely it wasn’t more forgivable to lay her crimes at poor Bridget’s feet.  Either way, her sins were great.

How does our Lord God weigh our sins?  Does the killing of a stranger weigh the same as the killing of family in His eyes?

Is it a greater crime in God’s eyes to imply the guilt of a servant, or of your sister—your own blood?  Was it a heavier sin to kill our Father than his wife?

I have lain here, nearly eighty-five years now, pondering on all these questions.  And still I have no answers.  Maybe that’s why I lie here waiting—unable to move on until I can answer.  Maybe that’s what binds me here in purgatory.

And so, I, Lisbeth—perhaps that too is another part of my sins—the attempt to separate myself from all that happened by changing my name.  So let me begin again, as a pledge of good faith that all that comes after is the truth.

I, Lizzie Borden, must tell the entire story as it happened.  And hope that I’ll discover the answers to my own questions, and my time in Purgatory will finally end.

People always assume that it began with Abbey—when Father married her.  But it started long before Mother and Alice died.  That is when Emma began to take shape—to become the consummate chameleon of goodness and gentility—the loving and dutiful daughter. 

That’s when it began…