*The following content might be triggering for some readers. *

Ripples of cold air struck Gianna’s face in waves. She could feel herself going numb in terror. She hadn’t realized that she had started shivering. As her eyes became accustomed to the dark around her, she noticed a cabin in the distance with its lights on. Although it would have appeared quite quant in the daytime, she felt threatened by its presence now. Beside her Marg seemed to be pulling out long sticks of grass. It wasn’t until Gianna’s shivering subsided that she realized those long sticks of grass were incense. Marg then whispered into the center of her palm. A small flame was produced from where the witch had whispered into her hand. The flame licked the tips of the incense, dancing across the surface of her palm. A strong, sweet smell reached Gianna’s nose.

Marg’s voice was low and steady. “Someone is about to die.”

The hair stood on the back of Gianna’s neck, stretching down to her legs. She felt numb. Peering over at Marg she noticed the witches’ hand was clenched over the incense. As she scanned her frame, she couldn’t help but note how her ivory face glowed against the flame. The witches’ eyelashes fluttered ever so slowly as her lips parted.

Before Gianna could protest Marg glided the incense inches from her body, enveloping her completely in a sweet aroma. As the witch did so her voice rang out in song like tones. She was muttering incantations. “For protection.”

Gianna said nothing in response. Afraid that her voice would waver, she kept it shut tightly. Clenching her jaw, she continued to look upon Margery’s domineering figure; the two now meeting each other’s gazes.

“We should turn back.”

“No,” was all Gianna could muster. Her voice was hoarse, barely audible. “We can’t. Not now.”

After enveloping them both in the scent of protection the two meandered their way closer to the cabin. The two silently made their way through shrubbery and bush, hearing voices as they did so. All male, Gianna thought. A small window was situated near them. Suddenly a loud slam came from inside the cabin. She could feel the weight of her body being pulled down as Marg grabbed her arm. The two hid under the pane of the window shoulder-to-shoulder. She could feel warmth radiating off Marg’s body. Sitting there for a couple of seconds allowed for her heart to calm briefly. The two silently nodded towards each other, slowly inclining themselves to peer into the window.

Margery covered Gianna’s mouth with her hand before she could let out a scream. There, before the two, was a woman splayed across a large dinner table. Her arms and legs were bound, her mouth gagged. The only noise that came from her were soft whimpers as her thin arms and legs struggled against the binds holding her. Four men glowered down at her, encircling her like vultures to their prey.

A man’s voice suddenly rang across the length of the cabin. “Unbind her. Take her outside. I don’t want to make a mess where I eat my damn meals.” His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. Gianna thought she would soil herself right then and there.

The four men unbound the woman. One of them hoisted her up on his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. Her kicks and punches meant nothing to him as he made his way in the two’s direction. She felt glued to the spot in that instance. If it weren’t for Marg, she would have stayed there in front of the window frozen in fear. Gods only know what they would have done to her if they caught her then and there. Instead, she felt Marg pull her yet again and the two hid behind a large oak tree, in a clear shot of whatever scene was about to unfold in front of them.

The woman was carried outside. A large stone slab was offset beyond the backdoor of the cabin. A large thud reverberated off the stone as the man threw her onto it. Gianna flinched, her hand creeping its way to her mouth as if to allow for no sounds to escape. The woman flayed violently. Her cascading curly brown hair was wild and caked in blood. Before she could pull herself from the stone slab the three other men pinned her. The man, the leader it seemed, lumbered over, carrying a bundle of rope as he did, throwing it in the woman’s direction.

“Undress her and then tie her.”

The woman’s whimpers bounced off the men’s grunts as they did as the man ordered. Gianna’s breathing quickened while she held the sight. As she glanced in Margery’s direction, she was terrified. Marg was angry, really angry. The witches’ blood-shot eyes pierced daggers into the men’s backs. Although it was now reaching midnight, she could feel the darkness of the night worsen with Marg’s anger. She’ll kill them. She’ll definitely kill them.

Tears shown in the woman’s eyes and her body seemed to shake in utter fear. Gianna’s heart shattered for her in that instance.

The moments that unfolded seemed to drag on forever. Gianna had to look away, bringing her hands to her ears. She could feel her own tears starting to stream down her face, could feel bile coating the inside of her mouth. She couldn’t drown out the noises though. The muffled whimpers as the woman tried to fight against each man. The grunts of satisfaction, of utter enjoyment as the men got their fix. She couldn’t remove the image; the image of this woman being defiled. She was shaking. Marg was silent next to her. She hadn’t opened her eyes, but she knew the witch was fuming.

The leader’s voice rang out after a while. His eerie laughing cutting across the backyard, sending shivers down Gianna’s spine.

“You can’t blame us…”

“You can’t blame us…” The leader repeated. “You see it had to be you. We had someone else picked but they never showed up. You with your innocent face. It had to be you if not her.”

Her. Gianna felt her knees wobble. Before, when they had neared this cabin, a voice had warned her, had told her something. The words rang in her head: The one you came for is not who you think he is. She had come for her fiancé. The voice had told her she was at a murderer’s house, her betrothal’s house. The her he was talking about was her, Gianna. The man, the leader, was Sir Nickols.

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Gianna felt like she was about to pass out. Grabbing the nearest thing next to her caused her to grab onto Marg. In that instance she found herself staring yet again at the witch. She did not know what she looked like but if she had to take a guess, probably pathetic.

Marg steadied her. Leaning forward the witch whispered in her ear. “No sudden movements. We can’t have them finding you. Please, endure it a little bit longer.”

A sudden “thwack” came in the direction of the five men. The noise caused the two to swivel their heads. Gianna had wished she hadn’t had looked. That she had kept staring into Marg’s eyes, to get lost in them. The four men were keeping their distance now from the woman. Sir Nickols though had a raised fist and was beating her.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Each hit landed. Blood was dripping its way down the sides of the stone slab, painting the grass below it. The woman was still alive. Gianna could feel bone cracking as Sir Nickols continued to bring his fist down.

Finally, he stepped back, admiring his work. “Handkerchief,” was all he said. One of the men handed him a stark white napkin. Whipping off the blood and pieces of bones delicately Sir Nickols threw the handkerchief on the ground, as if it was a piece of trash. Taking out a blade from his pocket he inched closer to the woman. Grasping the fabric that had been gagging the woman he cut it, ripping it away.

“I want you to beg.”

Gurgling noises came from the woman, Blood trickled its way down her chin and her neck. Although her face had been pummeled, she was still able to muster a “please.”

“Please,” was all she said. Sir Nickols’ face was shrouded in disappointment. Clicking his tongue, he brought down the knife to the woman’s heart. It only took one stab for her body to go limp. Her head nestled upward, toward the night sky as Orion twinkled, looking down upon her.

It had felt like forever. When Gianna finally felt a tap on her shoulder she was dragged back to reality. Marg was in front of her. She had just witnessed someone’s murder, a murder that was supposed to be her own.

Gianna was in shock. It did not take her until stepping onto Amethyst and Opal’s porch steps to realize that the two of them had made it back.

“Good gods! What happened to you two?!” Opal had rushed to the front door, sensing people nearing their cabin. “Gianna, you don’t look so good.”

Gianna could see that Marg was slightly shaken up. Her face was paler than normal. The witch looked otherworldly at that moment. Her light blonde hair wild and her eyes that of a raging storm. As for herself, Gianna could imagine that she looked pitiful. She looked down at her torn and muddied gown; a pit formed in her stomach. Oh no. She thought. I might vomit.

“You have a spare bed, right? Is it alright if Gianna sleeps here for tonight?” Marg seemed impatient at that moment.

“Yes but—what happened with her fiancé? Wouldn’t it be better if she stayed at your place?”

Marg was steading Gianna, guiding her through the two old witches’ front door. “Perfect. I will leave her with you. I’ll be back.”

“Now wait just a damn moment!” Opal’s wrinkly face scowled at Marg. “You tell me what’s happening right now! You can’t just show up randomly, drop off your disheveled friend, and get up and leave! For gods sakes look at the two of you!!” The last sentence came out as a worried plea causing Marg to pause her steps.

The witches’ eyes shifted to Gianna whose own was looking at her with a lamented expression. Marg was about to speak when Gianna cut in. In a hoarse tone she began, “We have to go back.”

“Gianna…” Marg shook her head adamantly.

“WE HAVE TO GO BACK!”

Gianna held a crazed expression. Her curly hair cascaded past her raised shoulders. “We have to…” Her voice cracked slightly.

“You can’t go back Gianna. Especially considering—”

Gianna’s hands grasped at Margery’s shoulders. She was shaking all over. Opal was beside herself with confusion and worry.

“What the hell Marg?”

“Gianna’s fiancé, he.” Marg’s eye squinted in pain looking at Gianna’s distraught expression. “I must go back for a soul of a woman. He did things, Opal.”

“He…” Tears started welling up, a lump forming, Gianna could see the scene before her, the sound of the woman, her mind

spun in that moment. Her breath was quickening, and she couldn’t control it. Her feet, legs, arms, and hands felt numb.

“Sit her down! Sit her down!” Margery’s eyes were wide-eyed with concern. The two witches guided Gianna to the coach.

“You’re okay. Just breathe. That’s it. Just breathe.” With a hand nested on Gianna’s back and another grasping her arm Margery supported her. Worry shown on the witches’ face.

As Gianna’s breathing slowed her eyes shifted to the floor. She hated it. She hated that every time she looked away from Marg all she could see was the woman. Gianna’s betrothal smashing in her face with his fists. Her tears streaming down her. “Please.” The shaky voice, the pained expression. All of it was burned in Gianna’s mind.

Opal rose from the coach and went off into the kitchen. The sound of boiling water and glasses clinking filled the space. It didn’t take long for Opal to make a pot of tea and hand a glass to Gianna. “Drink. It will calm you.”

The herbal tea coated her throat. She felt warmth spread across every inch of her body, covering her in a blanket of comfort. Gianna was still shivering. Her breathing had calmed but the tears were still streaming down her tan face, saturating her skin.

“It looks like she’s going into shock. I’ll get Amethyst. She won’t be able to do much. Hearts are a lot harder to heal than broken bones.” Opal left the room, leaving Marg and Gianna alone in the living area. The fire in the fireplace was crackling. Light emitted from the flame cast shadows all around her, making her feel more panicked. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the aroma of burning wood.

“I can’t stop picturing her Marg. I don’t know what to do. That was supposed to be me. He was waiting for me, but I never came. She died because of me.”

“Stop.” Marg’s eyes were downcast toward the wood floor. “Stop. Don’t do that to yourself. You are not to blame. He was the one who…” Her voice trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Gianna couldn’t help herself from speaking these next words. “Did you know?” Her face was buried in her hands now.

“That that woman would die? No.” Margery’s lips were thinned out, her left eyebrow slightly twitching.

“Are you going back for her… for her soul?”

“Yes. I must go back. Will you be fine?”

No. Gianna thought. I will not be fine. She did not say anything though. She nodded and smiled at Marg, noting the hint of perturbation showing on her face. She did not speak further on the topic. By the time Amethyst and Opal came back into the living room Marg was gone. For the first time in Gianna’s life, she felt alone.

All the fantasies and dreams that she had of a prince picking her up a cradling her couldn’t amount to the overwhelming desire for her mother’s warmth. She had been foolish to think that a simple marriage would suffice; that she would be alright alone with a man she did not know, in a home she was not familiar with. Was she homesick? Was that what Gianna was feeling? Opal and Amethyst were with her, and she was sure Phillip was close by. Marg had promised to be back as soon as she was done guiding the woman’s soul to the underworld. All these new, kind people and she still felt utterly alone.

All the weeping had caused her eyes to become heavy with exhaustion. She was finally able to doze off, with the crackling fire dying down next to her.