It was meant to be a night of passion. But, you stare unblinking as blood sprays. Painting the linen tent. Your dainty hand trembles as you hold onto your silk robe to your chest. The feeling of security in the giant bed of fur, Long gone.

Your heart pound, much like the drums of war.

HIT, BASH

your mouth runs dry each time his large fist pummels the man who screams for mercy, he who entered your canopy to try to assault you