The Apocalypse

32

They stopped the car before the gates of the mansion. Suddenly she was hit with a flashback

She was younger then, perhaps thirteen, standing in the backyard of their old home. The grass was lush and green, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. Her brother, stood beside her, his tall frame casting a reassuring shadow.
"Hold it like this, Maeve," her brother told her instructed, his voice patient and warm. He gently adjusted her grip on the bow, his hands steady and sure. "You need to be firm but relaxed. The bow is an extension of you."
Maeve nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. She mimicked his stance, feet shoulder-width apart, and drew the bowstring back with a determined breath.
He stepped back, giving her space. "Now, aim for the center of the target. Don't rush. Feel the tension in the string, let it build, and then release."
She focused intently on the target, a makeshift bullseye they had set up against an old tree. Her first few attempts had been disastrous, arrows flying wildly off course or dropping to the ground pathetically. But he had never shown frustration or disappointment. He believed in her, and that made all the difference.
With a deep breath, Maeve released the string. The arrow flew through the air, its path wobbly and uncertain. It landed just shy of the target, embedding itself in the soft earth.
Her brother chuckled, a sound filled with warmth and encouragement. "Not bad, little sister. You're getting better. Remember, it's about consistency and practice. You'll get there."
Maeve looked up at him, her eyes shining with determination. "I'll hit the bullseye next time, I promise."
He ruffled her hair affectionately. "I know you will. Just keep trying."

"Darling," Maurits called, his voice gently pulling Maeve back to reality.
"Sorry," she murmured, stepping closer to him, her mind still partially lost in the past.
"Did you remember anything?" Maurits asked softly, his eyes full of understanding.
"My brother teaching me to shoot," she replied, looking up at him. He nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face before he leaned down to kiss her lips softly. The gesture was comforting, grounding her in the present.
Maurits turned to Dylan, who stood ready by the gate. Together, they opened it, the rusty hinges creaking softly in the evening air. As the gate swung open, Sophie approached Maeve, concern etched on her face.
"Are you okay?" Sophie asked, pulling Maeve into a gentle hug, sensing her nervousness.
"Yes, thank you," Maeve replied, her voice steadying as she kissed Sophie on the cheek. The simple act of affection bolstered her spirits.
Taking a deep breath, Maeve walked towards the mansion's grand, weathered door. The wood was worn and faded, but it still held the memories of a once vibrant home. She reached into her pocket, pulling out an old, brass key. The metal felt cool and reassuring in her hand.
With a final look at Maurits and Sophie, who stood close by offering silent support, Maeve inserted the key into the lock. The mechanism resisted for a moment before yielding with a click, and the door creaked open, revealing the dim interior of her childhood home.
As they stepped inside, Maeve was hit by a wave of nostalgia. Dust motes danced in the rays of sunlight filtering through the broken windows. The familiar scent of old wood and forgotten memories filled the air. Each step echoed softly, a reminder of the life that once thrived within these walls.
Maurits walked beside her, his presence a steady anchor. "Let's find a safe place to set up our base," he suggested, his voice low.
They moved through the rooms, carefully checking for any signs of danger. The mansion was eerily quiet, but there was a sense of dormant energy, as if the past lingered just beneath the surface.
Maurits placed his hand on Maeve's lower back, guiding her through the dusty hallways of the mansion. "It's dusty!" she pointed out, wrinkling her nose.
Dylan laughed, nodding in agreement. "It is! Someone hasn't cleaned in a long while!"
Maeve smiled at his light-hearted response. "We sleep in this room. Pick your rooms," Maurits instructed everyone, gently pushing Maeve into her old bedroom.
"Not upstairs!" Maeve muttered softly, only for Maurits to hear.
Maurits nodded and addressed the group. "Only downstairs bedrooms. No one goes upstairs!" he ordered firmly before closing the door behind them.
"Finally alone, darling," he murmured, grabbing her waist and gently pushing her onto the bed, making her giggle.
"No," she laughed, shaking her head. "The bed is dirty."
"Yeah, yeah, we'll clean it later," he replied, undeterred as he leaned in to kiss her neck.
Maeve giggled, her arms wrapping around Maurits' neck. The tension of the day seemed to melt away in the comfort of their closeness. For a moment, the dilapidated room and the dangers outside felt distant, replaced by the warmth and safety they found in each other.
"Can I fuck you darling ."
"Yes." She breathed out.
Within seconds he pushed his dick deep inside of her wet pussy.
"You are already dripping for me darling." He growled before slamming deep within her. Her eyes rolled back by the overwhelming pleasure that took over her body. Maeve her nails dug into Maurits his back as his pace picked up. He reached her gespot over and over and she felt the knot in her stomach grow. The walls of her pussy tighten around his cock making him smirk knowing she was so close, so quickly.
"Maurits." Maeve moaned softly begging to not stop his pace.
"Anything you wish my darling." He replied his hand going around her neck before pushing one last time deep inside of her making her gasp before she released. Not shortly after Maurits climaxed inside of Maeve. Maurits slowly pulled out before kissing Maeve her forehead.
"My perfect girl." He praised her before pulling her into his chest
"I love you." He said his hand caressing her back softly. She snuggled closer to his chest and hummed softly.
Maeve began taking the pill after the village discovered thousands of strips full of various medications. Maurits had insisted she start them during the first week of their arrival. She complied, understanding the importance of maintaining her health and stability in such uncertain times.
Each month, Maeve diligently swallowed the pills, ensuring she didn't get her period. She and Maurits agreed it was safer and more convenient to avoid the complications that came with menstruation in their harsh environment. Only once every three months would she stop taking the pills, allowing her body to have a brief, natural cycle.