Mermaid-braided hair, with innocent curls falling free around her face, the beautiful woman rests on a black Victorian bench.
She's adorned in a coquette blouse—a warm, light pastel shade of red. A fluttering prairie skirt in white floats with the swirling breeze.
The air grows colder.
She pulls the beige knitted cardigan tighter around her form.
She inhales the solitude of nature, waiting while her husband fetches the strawberry ice cream she craved—from a wheeled stall rolling nearby.
Dusk swirls in, the day quietly parting.
Green leaves twitch as a faint, frosty wind brushes past.
Endless blossoms line the garden, late February carrying the sweetness of floral fragrance through the air.
The lantern beside her glows, burning softly against the darkening surroundings.
Shadows fall from silent trees. A small, mysterious blue bird sings, hovering above on a low branch she watches.
The golden moon climbs the violet sky. Glittering stars shimmer in the lake below, where white lilies drift.
The world is still. She sways her head, in tune with the whispering wild.
The corners of Neva's lips curl upward. The fresh breeze kisses her face; loose strands of hair twirl in slow dance.
"She's some hot woman, sitting all alone."
A boy in the shadows fixes his gaze on her. He exhales white vapor from his mouth and nose, a wiry cigarette pinched between two fingers.
Leaning against a tall oak tree in the park, he glances over at his two friends—boys in their late teens, just like him.
They smirk, their stares fixed. They wander as a gang—for pleasure and the thrill of getting high.
Home is rough. The mind blurred. The mother screams, the father abuses. Their hearts are burdened, shutting the door to life, wishing they had been born in someone else's soul.
Grades unmet. Adventure sought.
Love twisted. Bodies exploited.
The world thrashes the spirit that dares to walk the righteous path.
And if faith isn't strong enough, the mind is sure to go astray. While the flesh indulges in pleasure, the soul is left to rot.
And these boys are lost—drowned in lust, drawn to destruction, shackled in deadly immoralities.
"I get to fuck her first," one of them mutters, flicking away his cigarette.
The taller one, more reserved, places a hand on his shoulder to stop him from stepping forward.
"What if she doesn't want to?" he asks quietly, hesitant to embrace this dark thrill.
The first boy laughs sharply, mocking. "Who wouldn't? If she refuses, we team up and make it fun."
He exchanges a wicked glance with his smirking companion.
"What?" The third boy shivers, fear pooling in his gut. He knows it's bad—their intent is horribly grave.
"Trust me, bro.
You're in for a lot of fun," the second boy rasps, hooking his arm around the hesitant one as they step from the shadows.
Neva's heartbeat quickens. Her peace unravels. Footsteps approach—slow, deliberate.
Her expression shifts. The serene smile fades, replaced with dread as she looks over her shoulder, eyes wide.
They end their hide-and-seek.
The beautiful girl, seated so innocently by the lake, shrinks their bitterness for a moment.
They wonder—was she a visitor?
They've never seen a girl like this. So perfect. So untouched. So pure.
The first boy tilts his head, eyes gleaming with spine-chilling intent.
They walk toward her. Neva swallows, her hand sliding protectively to her womb.
She rises to her feet, trying to move away.
The first boy grabs her wrist. She struggles, twisting to break free.
Oh God, please no.
His grip tightens. She cries out.
Her phone is in hand, she prays—Rhett, please.
The second boy snatches the phone from her grasp, his smile haunting.
"Don't be scared, doll. We don't bite," the first one croons, licking the back of her hand.
Neva grimaces, wrenching free.
She tries to flee.
The third boy, guilt flickering in his eyes, blocks her path.
They've circled her—hungry hyenas eyeing a trembling lamb.
Their gazes burn, devouring her.
"Please let me go," Neva whispers, her hands over her pounding heart. Tears gather in her eyes.
"Aww, you're very pretty," the first boy says. "So we'll fuck you however you like. Wherever you like."
A tear slides down her cheek.
The second boy grabs her from behind, lifting her feet off the ground.
"No! Please!" she screams, kicking, squirming. They only laugh—merciless and wild.
"Leave her."
The voice—low, monotone—cuts through the air like a blade.
A spike of dread slams into their spines.
Neva's eyes fly toward the sound—tears spilling with relief.
Rhett.
Rhett is here.
He stands there, unmoving. A shadow of destruction. His expression, blank with fury, is terrifying.
"I said, leave her," he repeats, voice flat. Fatal.
The second boy, still holding her, trembles and gently sets her down.
Neva runs into Rhett's arms. He catches her, pulls her tight, fingers stroking her cold hair.
"Stay behind me, Angel. We'll go home soon," he murmurs, kissing the side of her head. Then he places the tub of strawberry ice cream in her hands.
Neva steps back. Silent. Trembling. As an unhinged Rhett steps forward.
"We're dead," whispers the third boy, eyes wide.
"Tch. Running off like a virgin? I knew she was a whor—"
The first boy doesn't finish the insult.
Rhett's fist slams into his jaw with bone-cracking force.
The boy hits the ground, dazed. Blood spills from his mouth—two teeth gone.
Wails erupt.
Rhett lunges at the others. He claws at their faces. Smashes their heads together with a sickening crack.
He doesn't stop. His eyes remain hollow—unyielding, unflinching.
He punches. Kicks. Beats them to pulp—his eyes hollow, his hands red.
He doesn't fight like a man.
He destroys like a god of vengeance.
He strikes—like judgement itself.
By the end, none of the boys can move... or cry.
He turns his gaze to the one who mocked Neva, now crawling backward, mouth bleeding, limbs twitching.
Rhett pounces.
Punches rain down. Again. And again. The boy's face becomes unrecognizable.
Neva sobs behind her hands.
She's never seen this side of him. This raw, brutal side. She's terrified.
Breathing hard, Rhett stands, surveying the wreckage.
He picks up Neva's phone, dusts it off, and walks back to her.
His expression shifts—gentle for her.
He takes her wrist softly. "Let's go home, Angel."
She nods silently, legs weak. She presses a hand to her belly, nauseous.
She wonders—has he killed them?
She wonders if she'll ever dare disobey him again.
But she clings to him tighter. For he's her safest place.
The most reassuring more than anyone can ever be.
---
Back in the warm cottage, Neva sits on the bed, eyes unfocused.
Rhett had gone to wash the blood from his hands.
The memory of those broken faces—those battered bodies—nauseates her.
He returns, towel in hand, drying his face and neck.
She rises slowly, retrieves the first aid kit from the cabinet.
"Come sit," she says softly.
He watches her. Tosses the towel on the laundry basket.
Then sits beside her, close.
She takes his hands.
His knuckles are red, cracked. Not badly injured, but the dried blood unsettles her.
"Does it hurt?" she asks, fingers lightly tracing the edge of the wound.
He shakes his head. His eyes stay on her.
"Are you?" he asks quietly.
She looks up, locking eyes with him. "I'm alright."
She squeezes a little ointment from the tube and gently applies it to his knuckles.
She blows softly over the wound, her fingers delicate with every touch.
"I won't leave you alone again," Rhett murmurs, his eyes filled with guilt.
Neva shakes her head. His brows furrow. He doesn't like that.
"Evil finds the innocent, whether they're alone or not," she says.
"People like that don't care who you're with. They just hunt weakness."
She snaps the first aid kit shut. "It's not your fault. Or mine."
He exhales, his throat thick with emotion. Then he pulls her into his arms—tight. Desperate.
"But being around someone we love... still makes us feel safer," he says, voice hoarse.
She sinks into him. He inhales her scent, lets his fingers gently caress her back.
"I know," she whispers.
"But I'm safe, aren't I? God will never allow something we can't endure. You came just in the right time."
Rhett only clings to her tighter.
Because she is his prayer. His salvation.