Millie

The moon hung low over the dense forest, casting an eerie silver glow through the canopy. The isolated house where Rupert Nicks and Millie Ross lived, its wooden walls weathered. Inside, a cozy fireplace, shelves lined with books, and a kitchen table still cluttered with the remains of their dinner.

Rupert, a strong man with fiery red hair, sat on the couch, his calloused hands flipping through a magazine. Millie, her long black hair dripping over her shoulders and her freckles catching the firelight, was curled up beside him, a book open in her lap.

Outside, cult leader Jacqueline Sanchez, a cold hearted woman, led the group. They had been watching the house for days, waiting for the perfect moment to put their plan into action.

Tonight, their mission was clear: kill Millie, break Rupert, and leave no hope behind.

Rupert’s magazine slipped from his hands as the sound of the shattering glass broke through the calmness. He bolted upright.

“Millie, stay here,” he growled.

He grabbed a baseball bat from the corner. Millie, her eyes widened as she clutched the blanket to her chest.

“No, Rupert, please-

Before she could finish, the door swung open, and Jacqueline stepped into the room, her followers walking in behind her. Their faces were hidden. Rupert swung the bat wildly, but a heavy cloth was thrown over his head. He struggled, but their hands pinned him down, and the sharp bite of barbwire cut into his wrists and ankles.

Rupert’s heart broke as he heard her cries, but the barbwire dug, and he felt the warm trickle of blood down his arms. He was dragged outside, the cold night air biting at his skin. He was thrown to the ground, the cloth ripped from his face, and he saw Millie standing a few feet away, her hands bound, tears streaming down her face.

Jacqueline stood before them, her eyes wild with rage. “Rupert Nicks,” she mocked. “You think you can hide here, live your little life in peace? Well, your little fantasy has come to an end."

Rupert spat at her feet. “Go to hell."

Jacqueline’s lips curled. “Oh, Rupert, you’ll be the one in hell soon enough. But first, you’ll watch her burn.”

Millie’s eyes widened in horror as Jacqueline’s followers surrounded her, dousing her in a flammable liquid. Rupert struggled against the wires, his muscles burning.

"No!” he screamed. “Please, no!”

Jacqueline raised a hand, and one of her followers produced a lighter. The flame danced in the darkness, a cruel mockery of warmth. “Burn her."

The lighter was thrown, and Millie was lit up in flames. Her screams, a sound that would haunt Rupert forever. He fought against the barbwire, the smell of burning flesh filled the air, and Millie’s cries slowly became soft moans. Rupert’s vision blurred with tears.

Jacqueline stepped closer to Rupert, clearly proud at what she had done. “Remember this moment, Rupert. Remember who took everything from you. Because I’ll be waiting for you. And when you come, I'll take you too."

She turned and walked away, her followers disappearing into the forest behind her. Rupert lay on the ground, his body hot and sore.

Time seemed to stand still as Rupert lie there, his mind a whirlwind. The barbwire dug into his flesh, but he barely felt it. His world had just ended, and all that was left was emptiness.

With a loud cry, Rupert began to move, his hands and feet raw and bleeding. The barbwire cut deeper with every moment, but he refused to give up. He rolled onto his side. The wire was tight, but he gritted his teeth and pulled, his fingers slipping in the blood. Slowly, inch by inch, the wire began to snap.

Finally, with a last tug, the barbwire snapped, and Rupert was free. He collapsed onto the ground. The sound of her cries still buried in his ears, a haunting remembrance to the night’s events.

Rupert pushed himself to his feet, his body aching.

“I’ll find them,” he whispered. “I’ll find every single one of them."

Rupert turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy. The forest was dark ahead of him.

Rupert stumbled through the remains of his cabin, the deadly smell of smoke clinging to his clothes and skin. The once cozy sanctuary was now a haunting shell, the wooden beams blackened and splintered, the furniture reduced to smoldering heaps.

He collapsed onto the scorched floorboards, his body heavy. The image of Millie engulfed in flames was seared into his mind, a relentless loop of agony.

Little tears fell over his eyelids down to his face, mixing with the soot that smudged his cheeks. He curled into a ball, his red hair falling over his face as he wept.

Hours passed before Rupert's tears dried, leaving behind a salty residue on his skin.

Rupert forced himself to his feet. He moved mechanically, gathering what little remained of his belongings: a rusted hunting knife, a half-empty canteen, and a tattered map of the surrounding forest.

His cabin offered no comfort now, only a sad reminder of what he had lost. With a final, pained glance at the cabin, he turned and stepped into the forest.

The path to Julian's trailer park was a blur. Rupert's injuries-cuts, bruises, and a deep gash on his arm-throbbed with every step.

The forest, once his sanctuary, now felt suffocating. By the time he reached the trailer park, the sun was setting.

Julian's trailer was at the far end, its faded blue paint peeling in patches. Rupert knocked on the door, his knuckles raw and bloody. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Julian's familiar face, obviously concerned.

"Rupert? What happened to you?" Julian's voice was laced with alarm as he took in Rupert's tragic state.

"Let me in," Rupert growled.

Julian stepped aside, his eyes widening as Rupert stumbled inside. The trailer was small but tidy, the air swirled with the scent of coffee and cigarettes. Julian shut the door behind them, his eyebrows raised. "Sit down, man. You look like you've been through hell."

Rupert collapsed onto the couch. Julian moved quickly, grabbing a first-aid kit from the kitchenette. "Talk to me, Rupert. What the hell happened?"

Rupert took a deep breath. "Jacqueline Sanchez. Her cult. They came to the cabin. They... they killed Millie. Burned her alive. I watched her die, Julian. I was helpless."

Julian's jaw tightened. "I always knew she was psychopathic but... this is next level." He paused, his eyes meeting Rupert's. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to kill her. Every last one of them."

Julian nodded. "Alright. First, let's get you patched up."

As Julian cleaned and bandaged Rupert's wounds, the silence between them was heavy.

Once the wounds were tended to, Julian handed Rupert a cup of strong, black coffee. "Here. You look like you need this."

"Thanks," Rupert took a sip, the bitterness mirroring the taste in his mouth. "I know the forest better than anyone. I can track them. But I'll need weapons and supplies-"

"I'll take care of that," Julian interrupted. "In the meantime, you need to rest. You're no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."

With a sigh, he leaned back on the couch, his eyes closed.

Julian watched him for a moment before standing. "I'll be back in a few hours. Try to get some sleep."

His sleep was in fleeting intervals. When Rupert finally woke, the trailer was dark. He sat up, his body aching.

He stood, his movements quiet as he made his way to the door. Julian had left a note on the table: "Weapons and supplies are in the shed. Be careful."

Outside, the night air was cool. Rupert made his way to the shed. Inside, he found mountains of weapons-rifles, knives, and enough ammunition to start a war. He loaded a backpack with the essentials.

As he slung the backpack over his shoulder, Rupert stepped out into the forest.