Mosiah rarely worried about his wife’s safety. Valentina was a strong and assertive woman who could have gotten along perfectly fine without him. She never feared for her safety, either. Valentina was short, but she could destroy a man in the blink of an eye. When she was angry with him, Mosiah always thought he wouldn’t live to see the next day. He didn’t worry for his wife, but he worried for the girls. It was hard enough to survive as a girl in society as it was. His daughters were young and impressionable, and Esther was far too trusting when it came to strangers. As a guardian to three little girls, Mosiah was always on edge, anxious about what might happen to them.

It was a parents’ instinct to worry. Valentina worried too, and this was why she had chosen to work from home. Esther had a social life, and Maia was old enough to be interested in older children. It was important for children to learn how to socialize, and for them to make friends with other children. Esther had friends from school. Sometimes, she played at the houses of her classmates. Mosiah wasn’t always a paranoid father. There had been a lot of crime in the city in the past couple weeks, and this made him nervous. At four and a half years old, Maia was getting settled in preschool. It had been Valentina’s idea to enroll her, claiming she needed to practice socializing. Viola sat in a new wheelchair, waving her sister goodbye outside the preschool building. It was expensive to get a custom-made wheelchair for a fifteen month old. Viola hadn’t yet developed the strength to move her own chair, and was frustrated by this.

“¡Hasta luego, Papá!”

He always got strange looks at drop off. Most of these came from other parents, as he’d expect them to. He wasn’t bothered, and certainly wasn’t about to change his ways due to a few dirty looks. This morning, it was a brunette woman who looked like his mother, glancing between Mosiah and his daughters as if they were personally offending her. When she began walking in his direction, he sighed. If there was one lesson he hoped his daughters learned from him, it was to stand up for themselves. Especially for women, this was an important lesson to learn.

The mornings were getting chillier. Valentina, who had taken the girls costume shopping over the weekend, had promised to take them treat-or-treating through the neighbourhood. Valentina didn’t drive. This meant Mosiah was often her transportation, and he never minded this. When Valentina or the girls were with him, he knew they were safe.

“Excuse me,” said the woman, keeping her distance, which was funny to him. “Your outfit is inappropriate. You’re in front of young children.”

He dressed like a Satanist - or, what one would expect a Satanist to dress like. Perhaps she was offended by the upside down cross on his shirt, or his fishnet gloves, or his dark eye makeup. It was safe to say this woman hung out with the most boring people. “You know it’s not contagious, right? You don’t have to stand so far away.”

Maia hugged Mosiah very tightly, looking more like her mother every day. He’d always heard that kids grew up too quickly, but had always thought to be bullshit until now. Maia was in the seventy fifth percentile for height, and wore clothes from the size five section. After getting a kiss from her father, Maia squished her sister’s face before bounding off through the preschool doors. After picking up Esther from school that afternoon, he’d be back to pick up Maia.

The woman frowned, casting a very long glance at Viola. “Where is their mother? I’m sure she’d have something to say about your choice of clothing.”

Viola whimpered. Mosiah pulled her from the wheelchair. “My wife loves the way I dress. Thanks for the concern, though.” Viola was tired, and had trouble falling asleep on her own. The woman was annoying, and followed them across the sidewalk. Valentina would have politely asked her to leave them alone. Mosiah wasn’t as kind as his wife. “Stop following us before I cast a hex on you - because all Satanists practice witchcraft, you know.” This wasn’t true. People who knew nothing about Satanism seemed to believe it was.

She stiffened. “Why’s she in a wheelchair?”

Thankfully, the truck was near enough for them to escape the woman without much hassle. Mosiah folded Viola’s chair, setting it in the box of his truck. "Lauxnome de nia dio Satano la plej brilanta-”

He’d memorized several random Esperanto phrases for moments just like this. Most had nothing to do with Satan, or anything threatening at all. It was petty, perhaps, but speaking foreign words in a threatening tone always scared people away. The woman’s eyes got wide; she turned to scurry back down the sidewalk to the school.

In her carseat, Viola played quietly with a stuffed rabbit. When they arrived home, it would be time for her to nap.

Recently, Valentina was sent a large clothing haul by a popular clothing company. This happened regularly: a brand sent her free items to promote on her social media, and she made a lot of money. It was more work than it seemed, he’d been told. He was expected by strangers to be insecure about his wife’s job: as though it was emasculating to make less than a woman. On the contrary: Mosiah was proud of the things Valentina had accomplished.

At home, Valentina sat at the table, making a sour face at her phone. There were problems that came with being an influencer: a lack of privacy, an influx of harassing messages. Valentina handled this well.

“Somebody sent me a dick pic.”

She wore her thick hair in two braids, the same style she often gave the girls. Most of the time, Valentina no longer read message requests. This was why. “Want to see it?”

Mosiah heated up a bottle. “Sure.” He always saw the photos. Sometimes, Valentina would mess with a man by sending the same kind of picture in return. “Wow. It’s not even a nice dick.”

Valentina shrugged. “I know. Yours is way nicer.” Halfway through her bottle of milk, Viola fell asleep in the highchair.

The day after her party, Hannah called Mosiah. It was the middle of the night; he’d just gotten home from work and was very tired, but Hannah was distraught. Because she spoke to him often, he’d known she was planning on attending the party that night. He didn’t care what Hannah did with her life. She insisted on updating him frequently.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“He’s here,” she said, sounding hoarse and breathless, “in Newfoundland. He almost killed me.” Hannah wasn’t the type to be easily startled. She was blunt and self-assured, and rather tactless at times. Perhaps this was why it was so rattling to hear her sounding so uncertain. Mosiah, of course, had been concerned. Hannah had just gotten home from the hospital, and was still on edge. Jude had covered a lot of ground in a fairly short amount of time. Travelling by stolen vehicle was much faster than travelling by foot, and Jude knew he would be caught if he stayed in one place too long. If you were fast and knew where you were going, you could travel half the country in just a few days.

The girls were always happy to see him. Each time Mosiah picked up his sister from school, she ran to him, eager to babble about her day and her friends. He received a lot of questions from elementary school children, and never grew tired of answering them. Kids weren’t afraid to say what they were thinking. Kids weren’t hateful until they were taught to be. Sometimes, a parent let their child engage him. Sometimes, they whisked their child away as soon as possible, paranoid that Mosiah’s ideals would rub off. He couldn’t care less what others thought of his appearance. Looking like everyone else was deadening and bothersome, and people were conformity robots as it was. There was only one woman he cared to impress, and she’d already married him.

“Mosiah!”

On the days he didn’t work, he enjoyed playing with his sister and daughters. Children grew up too fast, and there would come a day when the girls outgrew his company. Esther hugged his legs, already chattering loudly about something. She was short, the only of Orion’s children with blonde hair. “Hey, chatterbox,” he said, picking Esther up, swinging her through the air until she giggled, “how was school?”

Esther enjoyed school. She was social and inquisitive, and seemed to make a new friend every day. A child stood nearby, presumably her classmate, as Mosiah had seen them before. “My friend wants to have a sleepover,” said Esther, and ran over to hug the child. Making plans with others was sometimes challenging, as the parents of Esther’s friends could be judgmental and close-minded. Mosiah should have felt guilty about this: his sister missing out on friendships because of the way he dressed. The way he saw it, children learned from their guardians, and these weren’t people worth spending time around anyway.

In Mosiah’s backyard, there was a small trampoline Valentina purchased for the girls. The children played on their own, but the yard was fenced, and Valentina always supervised through the kitchen window. Esther loved to be in charge of the younger girls. She loved teaching them things, but argued a lot with Maia, as both girls were opinionated. While helping Valentina prepare dinner, Mosiah watched out a window as the girls played. There was a small wooden sandbox filled with plastic toys; Viola dug a hole. Mosiah had an uneasy feeling, as though something bad would happen if he left the girls unwatched too long. It wasn’t a neighbourhood known for being dangerous. Suspicious people existed everywhere, and most children would come across them at some point. Esther stood at the fence, talking through fence boards to someone on the other side. Esther was too sociable for her own good. She was old enough to understand to be wary of strangers, but usually forgot this once she got lost in conversation. Most predators weren’t scary people, anyway. They gained your trust, and then they put you in danger.

“There’s someone outside,” said Mosiah, looking over Valentina’s shoulders, “by the yard, talking to Esther. I can’t tell who it is through the fence.”

He didn’t trust strangers. When it came to their children, most people didn’t.

Valentina didn’t mess around when it came to cooking. She enjoyed cooking, and was good at it. Esther had begun to insist on taking Valentina’s leftovers for lunch at school. “Is it the neighbour? The girls love him.”

Mosiah couldn’t hear the children. Even so, he knew Maia was crying, and this made him suspicious. “I don’t think so. I’ll be right back, okay?” He never left the house without kissing his wife, even if he’d only be gone a couple minutes. There were many simple ways to make a marriage last, and this was one of them.

Jude was in Manitoba. Mosiah knew this because he had been recognized by a woman he’d tried to kill. It seemed Jude cared about more now than the Zoans. Although Mosiah had spent hours poring over news articles, Jude’s motive remained unknown. So, too, did his current location. But he was a wanted man, and citizens valued their safety, and friends gossiped, and nothing could stay unknown forever.

Mosiah, quite literally, would kill for his daughters. He wasn’t afraid of authority, and he certainly didn’t fear prison. Since becoming a father, Valentina had nagged him several times to leave his recklessness behind. You’re a dad now, she said, you can’t be doing stupid shit anymore. Mosiah didn’t see why not. Life didn’t stop when people had kids.

The girls knew to be wary of strangers. Every young child should have known that. Mosiah didn’t have a huge backyard. He could see the man before even stepping foot out of the door.

“Don’t fucking touch her!"

Life happened so quickly. Maia spoke to Jude through the open gate: it had been locked when the girls went out to play. As Mosiah stepped outside, the man had his daughter tightly by the arm, and Mosiah ran on fury. He collided into Jude, both men falling to the hard ground. Jude hadn’t seemed to hurt the girls; they cried, but this was mostly out of fright.

“Stay the fuck away from my family.”

In the commotion, Valentina came outside. Mosiah wasn’t sure what Jude’s intention here was. It didn’t matter. He’d never get a chance to put the girls in danger. Jude was stronger than Mosiah, but Mosiah was faster. He had Jude by the throat: strangling him the way he’d strangled Mosiah’s own siblings. It wasn’t like he really cared what happened to his siblings. He hadn’t cared at all until Jude showed up in his backyard.

Valentina shrieked. “Baby, stop! You’re scaring the kids!”

Maia and Viola cried. Both hid behind their mother, scared by both the fury in Mosiah’s eyes and the intensity in which he acted. He wasn’t a hateful man. He didn’t mistreat people unless they deserved it. He didn’t seek revenge unless someone involved his family.

“Take them inside,” said Mosiah, watching Jude’s eyes as he choked the man, “this isn’t something they need to see.” Valentina would say he was acting rashly. Jude had been a wanted man for months. If Mosiah didn’t care of Jude himself, no one would.

Jude writhed as he fought back: scratching Mosiah’s face, attempting to kick the other man off of him. Jude deserved to suffer. He deserved to suffer the way others had suffered at his hands. You know what they say. An eye for an eye, and all that.

Esther was less fearful than the other girls. She was older, but had also grown up in a very different environment. “Mosiah, is this the man who killed Dad and Lillian?” Esther frowned, standing at Mosiah’s side. She knew much more than he gave her credit for. “Are you going to kill him?”

It took quite a long time to strangle someone to death, and it was an excruciating way to die. In the final moments of Jude’s life, there was chaos. Maia and Viola were screaming. Valentina was screaming too: pleading with Mosiah to let go, begging him to stop before the police got involved. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if Mosiah went to prison. He’d been around long enough to know that law enforcement was useless. He tightened his grip on Jude’s throat, feeling powerful. That was, after all, the only reason people strangled one another: to feel powerful. Mosiah felt nothing when Jude finally went limp. Horrible people needed to be punished. Criminals needed to feel the pain they inflicted on others.

It was quiet. Maia and the girls had disappeared inside. Jude stared at the sky, finally still.