𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛

𝐶𝑜𝑤𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠

𝑂𝑛𝑖𝑘𝑎

I couldn't sleep.

Tossing and turning under the weight of my child. Kaia laid in my arms, unfazed by my movements or anything pertaining to how uncomfortable I was in this heat.

Sitting up, I placed her beside me, stuffing the bear between her arms in place of my presence so I could escape this bed without her knowing. Slipping my robe over my body, I find myself walking through the closet and eyeing Beyonce's side clothes.

They hung neatly, in order from brightest to darkest shades. All of her Levi's jeans folded nicely and placed on the shelves she built with her own hands, also organized by shades of blue.

Looking down, there's an assortment of cowboy boots and tennis shoes, separated again by height and color. Her favorite pair of boots sitting at the end, unfortunately collecting dust as they sit unmoved in the corner.

I remember when she first got them, how excited she was.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and imagined myself right back in that moment. Watching her open the box, listening to her laugh, seeing her smile. She was always so happy.

I've only seen her upset once, but besides that she never stopped smiling. Especially when she was with me. Nothing I ever did, no mistake I ever made took her love away from me. She loved me through everything, cared for me, cherished me.

It was a painful day when all of that ended. However, in some ways I still feel that love. As if Kaia is just a sliver of everything Beyoncé had ever given me. A piece of our love that makes me feel so damn lucky to have had someone so special.

The trotting of horses pull me from the memory. I wiped away fallen tears and collected the shotgun from the top shelf in a state of anxiety.

I knew what this meant. Trouble. Beyoncé always warned me to be careful whenever she isn't around. The house is in her name and I'm sure since she hasn't been home in four years, seeing cars in the driveway has caused some speculation.

Especially for the 'cowboys'.

Ruffians whose only intentions have been to cause a great deal of torment for young women, widows, and the innocent.

Them being here all hours of the night only meant one thing. They knew.

I jogged downstairs, bracing myself before opening the door and standing in the frame.

Four of them, unrecognizable due to their black clothing and the dark cloak of night hiding their features from me. One climbed off of his horse, causing me to raise my gun.