(And so we reach the end of this particular endeavor. Thanks to everyone who read. Also, I apologize to anyone who expected/wanted this to be longer. It was a school assignment, afterall, and there's only so much I can write on a deadline. Enjoy.)
December 31st, 1876
I apologize if this seems hurried and unlike me. Thomas is gone for good, and I am rejoicing. In our final confrontation, he ripped the necklace from my neck (which I had worn to spite him) as a symbol that my loyalty to him was effectively null and void. He did not expect the elated cry that escaped me as opposed to a startled yelp, and I do not think he enjoyed it either. Tobias did have to hold him back at one point, but Thomas will never again lay a hand on me! I bear the bruises and scars he gave me with dignity now. I know he can never touch me again, so long as I live.
Not only did I tell Thomas of the truth behind Sasha's death, but I also revealed the truth about the diary and my less-than-platonic relationship with Irvine, the budding poet that had moved in across the street a few months ago. Thomas was, quite literally, bright red in the face by the time I was through, and I can only imagine that I had a vicious grin on my face at the time.
Julia just came in to check on me, and she told me that Tobias has returned from escorting Thomas to a hotel closer to Main Street. Tobias worries, however, that Thomas may return and try something drastic, so I am to hurriedly pack and be ready to depart for Louisville within the hour. The children will be remaining in Paducah for the time being, and I will be staying with Dominick -- I do not believe he will be unkind to me when I show up unexpectedly on his doorstep. After all, he did that to us many times in the past.
My tears of indescribable joy are falling onto the page and blotching my ink, so I will retire this diary for the time being. Tomorrow is the beginning of the New Year, 1877. I intend to make it a wonderful one in the big city with many other feminists. I think I will become an author once again. Perhaps I will never need this diary in the future -- perhaps I will still claim refuge in its pristine pages. For now, I will give my customary farewell.
Until next time, dear diary