Her mouth was hanging open in shock, shaking her head as she looked down to the ground where blood and guts and body parts were strewn about, seeing little to no ground. They were high school lovers, now in their late 20s. They’d been through everything together. Even college, deaths of loved ones, and being far apart. It felt like they were inseparable.

She never really got along with her family, that part was true. They’d often fight and end up arguing with each other, sometimes it turned physical. She was glad to have moved two states away from them, where it was least likely to ever see them again, and she most likely wouldn’t need to hear from them. He followed her, of course, because they were planning on moving in together anyways. They were going to be going on a vacation in a few weeks. But now… now her reality was shattered, dreams tossed, she had no idea who he was.

And sure, friends and family that had known him had said that he wasn’t a good guy, he’d turn on her when he had the chance, but she didn’t believe them. He was so kind and sweet to her, giving her flowers every opportunity, presenting her to family functions, giving her gifts and planning dates and their future.

Their future, that was now shattered. Torn apart like the bodies on the road. She wanted to marry him. She wanted to have kids with him and grow old with him.

“What have you done?” She whispered.

“I got rid of your little problem, sweetheart.” He told her, so casual, as if the problem wasn’t lying on the ground by their feet.

Tears welled in her eyes as she scanned her surroundings. She never thought loving him would turn into this, she’d heard the stories, heard their warning, and still she stayed. Because she thought that’s what love was. But as she looked at the carnage before her, she was so terribly wrong.

“I didn’t want this,” she choked out, her head shaking. He had a choice and he chose her.

“You wanted this,” he reassured her. His tone was soothing, convincing and confident. “Because you wanted me, you _chose_ me.”

She was shaking her head, tears streaming down like rivers down her cheeks now, “No,” the word sounded strangled, different, coming from her mouth. “Not like this.”

“You wanted me, Mira!” His voice was rising, “you wanted a bad boy who’d take care of you when it was needed.”

“That’s not-! This isn’t-!” She couldn’t form words, much less thoughts. She was so afraid of him now, so afraid to move but he had taken a step forward. She didn’t want to step in more blood, or on a body part.

“That’s not what, this isn’t what, Mira? The answer? This isn’t the way? This isn’t how the story is supposed to end? Well, Mira… this is how it ends.” He had a smile on his face, now, despite everything he’d done, he was still smiling.

“No!” She screamed, surprising even herself. “Mom…”

“Everyone has a choice, Mira.” He said, his voice low now. “Your choice has resulted in everyone dead.”

Her eyes widened at his accusation, “that’s not true.” Her words were steady, steeling confidence that wasn’t felt, but heard. “We moved to get away from them for a reason.” She reasoned, it wasn’t her fault they were dead. She wasn’t the one that blew them to pieces.

He frowned and cocked his head to the side. “Mira. They followed you. They followed you two states away and they were coming to hurt you, or did you forget?” He took out his phone that had a copy of the voicemail that her parents had left her.

“Little lamb, did you think you could run from us? From me? You’ve been training your entire life, only to run away when things got difficult. Now isn’t that selfish. Well, no matter. We’ve found you and our friends are coming to pick you up, be nice and get in the car, or we’ll come for you personally.” The voice sent a cold chill down her spine. She had thought she had escaped that life, she never wanted that life, never wanted the family.

“They trapped you, remember? They came after you and I’ve made sure they’re gone.” There was no escape, never any escape, that much she knew deep down. From one abuse, to another. The cycle always repeating.

Or rather, in her case, from a mop affiliated family to a cult family. She didn’t care for the blood shed, for the money, she didn’t want to follow what her family was doing, but his family seemed like a lesser evil. Sure, they sacrificed small animals, and hunted wild animals. In his case, he was a pyromaniac while enjoying the blood shed.

“They’ve been sacrificed for Moloch, for the greater good, for our protection, prosperity, and good health!” He exclaimed, sounding like a madman to her, but a good leader to the rest of his followers.

Even her father wouldn’t have done this much. Her mother would’ve been much cleaner going about it. Their blood mixed together on the ground, their pieces scattered but mostly recognizable, covering the various symbols.

“They’re dead thanks to you, for bringing them to us,” he repeated, and she turned to look at the cheering crowd. About a dozen and a half people were there, all enamored with Luke, they hadn’t had this big a sacrifice since the elden days.