The Apocalypse

6

As the night progressed, the ambiance in the town grew livelier, accompanied by the cheerful melodies of music. Maeve, captivated by the sight of countless individuals enjoying themselves, felt a sense of wonder. However, a chill started to seep into her bones, yet she hesitated to express it to Maurits, fearing his anger.
Catherine, noticing Maeve's discomfort, made an attempt to strike up a conversation.
"Do you want something to drink?" Catherine questioned Maeve. She wanted to try and get Maeve to talk to her. She wanted to understand why Maeve confided in Sophie and Maurits but seemed distant towards her, despite their longer acquaintance. Maeve nestled herself deeper into Maurits' chest, seeking solace and security in his presence.
Maeve's mind had erected a barrier, shielding her from the traumatic memories she couldn't bear to confront. When Catherine left, the weight of the beatings grew more pronounced, but Maeve's mind, in a self-protective response, disconnected her from those agonizing experiences. That particular year had become a blank space in her mind, intentionally forgotten.
Though Maeve couldn't explain why she didn't respond to Catherine, she found solace in talking to Sophie and, most significantly, placing her trust in Maurits. She shook her head slowly.
"Are you getting cold, darling?" Maurits asked stroking her hair. She looked at him as he nodded.
"Alright my darling." Maurits said standing up hoisting her up to his hip. It was as if the two had talked with one another threw their eyes."Let's find something to keep you warm."
He guided her inside and gently settled her on the couch, ensuring her comfort. He briefly left her side, only to return moments later with one of his sweaters and a pair of her sweatpants. "Arms up," he commanded, and she obediently raised her arms. With a tender touch, he slipped the sweater over her head, enveloping her in its warmth, though it seemed to swallow her up a bit.
"Stand," he instructed, his voice soothing and reassuring. As he knelt down, his gaze locked with hers, conveying his genuine intentions. Slowly and delicately, he helped her remove her skirt, maintaining the intimate connection between their eyes, making it clear that he had no ulterior motives. She placed her hands on his shoulders for support as she stepped quietly into the awaiting sweatpants. He gently pulled them up to her waist, carefully tying the knot in front, ensuring they fit snugly yet comfortably.
Sensing her weariness, he observed her drowsy state and offered her a choice. "Do you want to walk outside, or shall I carry you?" he inquired with concern. Her voice barely above a whisper, she shyly admitted, "Carry." Responding to her request, he scooped her up in his arms, his lips tenderly kissing her jawline. His hands caressed her curves with an affectionate touch.
"Never be ashamed of me taking care of you," he asserted, his words firm yet filled with an underlying tenderness. Maeve nodded, acknowledging his command and feeling a sense of reassurance in his presence.
Curiosity sparked within her, and in a soft, gentle tone, she whispered into his ear, "What is your name?" as they ventured beyond the confines of his cozy abode.
"My name is Maurits, darling," he revealed, his voice carrying a hint of endearment.
He sat her down on the chair.
"Wait here I need to speak to Johnny." He says cupping her cheek. She nodded at his words while curling her legs up to her chest. He had to speak to him about her bite.
Sophie and Catherine were in heath argument making Maeve wince back from their harsh words about how they should kill walkers. Maeve sneaked of quietly going unnoticed by most only by one she wasn't gone unnoticed.
Kay the player of the SurvivorTown, followed Maeve swiftly. He grabbed her arm, forcefully turning her around, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. His alcohol-soaked breath permeated the air, making Maeve struggle to suppress a gag.
"A pretty girl like you should be with a handsome man like me," he said, punctuating his statement with a suggestive wink. Maeve's discomfort grew, and she desperately tried to free her arm from his firm grip. His breath drenched in alcohol. Maeve had to hold herself from gagging on the smell.
"Shall we go to my room? Show each other a good time?"
Maeve quickly shook her head afraid of the man before her as she tried to pull her arm out of his grib.
"Don't be such a prude," he sneered, his hands continuing to explore her curves, lingering over her backside. Maeve's attempts to speak were stifled, leaving her words trapped in her constricted throat.
Maeve her words got stuck in her throat as no sound left her mouth. Before Kay could go an further Maurits had grabbed his neck throwing him on the floor. "She is mine" he roared as Maurits swung his bat twice, before hitting him with the bat on his head. 
Many people claimed a woman, but few truly meant it. She was petite and easily taken advantage of. Kay, however, doubted Maurits' in his claim over the girl. Often, such claims were merely an expression of their desire to fuck them first.
Maeve, her heart pounding, felt a surge of relief and gratitude wash over her as Maurits stood protectively between her and the fallen aggressor.
Maeve was used to violence used to so much blood. She was grateful it wasn't her blood this time. Maurits was covered in Kay's blood.
Kay tried to speak but his entire head was broken soon enough he would die in terrible pain.
Maeve ran towards him right into his chest. He picked her up before walking over Kay his body straight to home.
When he passed blood dripping from his body the crowd turned silent. He dropped the bat in the middle of the circle before entering his house.
Johnny quickly stood up grabbing the bat before jogging alongside the blood trail.
He gasped as he saw Kay his mutilated body.
"Burn his body." Johnny ordered before following Maurits his footsteps.