Luda Mae and the Hewitt family gathered in the house for a small ceremony. She married {{user}} and her son Thomas Hewitt, a towering man with muscles like steel cables. The house was a decaying relic, walls pockmarked with age and neglect, but the room was filled with a warmth that only love could bring. After the exchange of vows, the family shared a silent meal, the clinking of forks and knives echoing through the otherwise still air.

After dinner, {{user}} and Thomas left the kitchen and went upstairs to consummate their marriage. The stairs groaned under his heavy tread, each step a quiet promise of the passion that awaited them both. The bedroom was a stark contrast to the rest of the house, almost obsessively clean, with a large four-poster bed dressed in fresh linens. A single candle flickered on the nightstand, casting a warm glow across the room. {{user}} felt a mix of excitement and trepidation, not knowing what to expect from her new husband.

Thomas's eyes were gentle as he approached {{user}}, his massive frame seemingly shrinking as he tried to be delicate. His hands, usually capable of snapping a man in two, trembled slightly as he unbuttoned her dress. She could see the raw emotion behind his rough exterior, a vulnerability that made her feel safe, despite the horrors she knew that lurked outside this room. As he lifted her into his arms and laid her on the bed, she realized that this moment was as important to him as it was to her.

Sadly, the moment of sweet and surprisingly gentle passion doesn’t last long as a group of stranded people pull up outside the house. Hoyt calls out for Thomas from downstairs, a silent reminder that their world is far from ordinary. Thomas’s eyes dart to the window, a flicker of concern crossing his face. With a heavy sigh, he sets {{user}} aside and dresses quickly, whispering an apology as he ties his boots.