Hope.

She felt like an idiot. Why the hell did she let herself fall into a fantasy? Her rapist falling in love with her? Winning his family over? Them seeing her as something other than a babymaker and eventual food that she very clearly was at the beginning.

Delusional is what you are. A god damn fool.

Thomas's large hand held onto hers firmly. Almost as if he was worried she'd pull away. But, she wasn't lying when she said she was done. Of course, her brain kept insisting on falling back to that hopeless romantic she apparently was. It wanted to believe there is a better future. That all her hard work to win Thomas over wasn't in vain. That his family could learn to accept her.

She suppressed a snort. That probably wasn't possible now. And even if they did accept her and pulled her into their circle for some fucked up reason. She couldn't picture any possible way she'd ever forgive Hoyt. It would have to be some massive apology to change her mind.

"You ain't blood."

A sting of pain ran up her right arm as she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. As if that would ever happen. Him apologize? Actually be sorry? A silly fantasy of him groveling at her feet, flashed through her mind. He would try, Thomas would make him, but she'd stomp on his hand and cock in defiance.

The anger that filled her body quickly evaporated into defeat and her shoulders slumped. It would never come true. Nothing even close. She needed to remind herself of that. Needed to stop living in a fantasy. Hoyt would never be sorry for what he did. The Hewitts would never see her more than a babymaker. Thomas would never be by her side demanding his uncle make amends to her.

Thomas paused by the door and picked up her hat. There was no hesitation as he set it on her head. The bandage on his left hand drew her attention. There'd been a fight last night, a major argument. She had heard shouting, Luda Mae screaming, things were thrown and broken. Thomas had clearly punched someone. Hoyt? Probably. How could it not be? The way Thomas flew out of their room when they heard Hoyt's laughter upon his return. The anger in Thomas's face.

She felt her stomach drop with fear. She'd never seen him that angry before. And hopefully, he'd never show her that side of him. Although, she probably would sooner rather than later.

Yesterday had gone a little bit differently than what she expected. She didn't plan on bearing her soul to Thomas. Didn't plan on saying a word or acknowledging the rape.

Thomas probably thought she went down into the basement to end her life. She didn't even notice the knife was in her hand until Thomas showed up. He was so scared, and it made sense. Had she been someone else she probably would have already done it. Ended her life. Unfortunately, despite all that had happened, her god damn brain kept insisting it wanted to live. Wanted to keep pushing forward because maybe, just maybe things would get better.

Idiot.

She probably didn't need to tell Thomas that Hoyt raped her. He had to have known. How could he not? His family didn't keep secrets from him. Hoyt was probably a step ahead of her and told Thomas she'd seduced him or some bullshit excuse. Most likely claimed her fucked her ass or mouth because "the baby has to be Tommy's".

It did somewhat surprise her Thomas's reaction. His stunned surprise. But then she had to remind herself that maybe he was lied to. That Thomas was stunned to find out Hoyt raped her pussy. There was a possibility that if she was pregnant it was Hoyt's. Small, but possible.

She clenched her jaw at the thought. Would it be telling? Did it matter in the end?

From there she just found herself blurting out everything she'd been wanting to say. Consequences be damned. What more could she lose? Her life? Not yet, she still had to have at least one baby.

It was surprisingly easy to shut down from there. To no longer care what happened to her. Rape? Beatings? Isolation? Tied up? Hung up? She didn't have the energy to give a damn about her fate.

But none of that happened, much to her surprise. He didn't try to "reclaim" her. Didn't try to hurt her for lying to him. In fact, she was sure he wanted to feel free with him. Safe. But she didn't. She couldn't. And, she didn't care enough to try anymore. He probably didn't fully grasp what she had told him anyway. He could turn on her, once it all kicked in.

Thomas messed with her hat for a moment, tugging and pulling till he was satisfied with the way it set on her head. His eyes creased behind his mask from a smile. She resisted the urge to mess with his mask in kind. The leather mask he'd put on was his best one in her opinion, and thankfully not his favorite human made one. It was the one he knew she preferred of all the others. Not that she could put much meaning behind that.

The calluses on his palm brushed her cheek as he moved her hair back behind her ear. She couldn't help but lean into his warm hand.

"He loves you," the romantic in her said. Perhaps he did, but he was just making things harder for them. His love for his family would always trump his love for her. And sooner, rather than later, he'd prove it once and for all. Better to expect it now than to have her heart crushed and grounded again.

She pulled away.

Thomas slowly clenched his fingers, then he walked away.

Elizabeth gulped as his warm presence left her side, leaving her alone at the front door. Suddenly, her heart started to beat faster with fear.

He'll be back.

He hadn't left her side all day yesterday till the fight. They had spent the whole day in their room. Not fucking. Not doing much of anything for that matter. Thomas stood by the door as if he was guarding her. Protecting her. And she sat on the bed. A part of her wanted to go to sleep, because he was there and wouldn't let any harm come to her. She hadn't slept much over the last four days. But, only nightmares awaited her unconscious mind.

Elizabeth's musings were interrupted as Thomas returned. He set down a picnic basket then opened the door. Despite the early hour, it was already hot outside.

Dishes clanged and cluttered in the kitchen, catching her attention. Luda Mae probably. Elizabeth gave the house a quick glance. She didn't see anyone. She hadn't seen anyone since the day before yesterday. When Thomas came back after the fight he didn't let her leave, bringing dinner up for them.

Thomas turned and held out his arm to her. She automatically placed her hand on his arm and let him escort her out. Such a gentleman. They probably looked like such a pretty couple, dressed in their Sunday best. Thomas in one of his nice suits and her in a pretty sundress.

Hope.

Elizabeth quickly squashed those feelings, embracing the numbness.

Time. That was all that was needed. A little bit of time before the truth hit Thomas. Or till he gave up. His family would eventually win out. It was better this way. For her. Why did she even bother trying in the first place? A babymaker. That was all she was at the end.

The wind causing her dress swirl a little. Heat rushed inside of her as her heart picked up and fear spiked through her. She didn't want to wear a dress, but Thomas had set it out and she wasn't about to disobey him. But, she felt so vulnerable, despite Thomas being by her side.

She turned her head and glanced behind her at the old house. The dirty, yellow windows hid any evidence that they were being watched. But, Hoyt had always been watching her before, she was sure he probably watched her now.

Hoyt.

Oddly enough, it wasn't Hoyt raping her that truly broke her. Sure, it was a part of it, but she would have gotten past that. She was strong after all. A fighter. Life kept throwing her lemons and she kept making God damn lemonade with each situation.

She could have pushed through. She would have. Would have healed and gotten stronger. But it was his words that did her in.

How happy the bastard whistled during the rest of the car ride back. Happy as could be because he got what he wanted while she had a war within herself. There was almost immediate regret that she had left the engagement ring on the ground. Fuck him! Hoyt was trying to get into her head and she let him. Thomas loved her and she was sure he would stand by her side.

Except, the moment she stepped out of the car and she saw Thomas her heart dropped and she knew she was wrong. His eyes had fallen immediately on her stomach. There was a giddy joy to him and excitement. A child waiting with glee to open his present.

When she walked up to him he'd placed his hand on her stomach.

Babies.

What a fool she'd been. He looked confused when she placed her hand on his cheek, slowly rubbing that leather mask. But, she had to say goodbye to the man she erroneously believed he was. The fantasy she indulged to cope with her situation. A stupid hope that he saw her as more than just a babymaker. That he could be her partner and truly protect or avenge her. But, she realized that Hoyt was right. The way he looked past her at his uncle in confusion, wanting an answer from that man. Not her.

Elizabeth let out a deep breath. No tears. But, she was tired and drained. She didn't have the energy to cry.

The hot air cooled slight as they walked into the woods, the large trees covered the morning sun. Where was he taking her? The little meadow where he proposed popped into her mind. Her muscles tensed and she felt the overwhelming urge to run away. The man was giving her false hope.

Thomas lowered his arm and interlaced his fingers with hers. She absentmindedly squeezed his hand back, but focused on the ground.

She just needed to remind herself that he didn't understand and wouldn't be able to understand that he was giving her false hope. That no matter how much he tried to show his love it wouldn't matter in the end. She didn't matter. His family did. Having babies did. She was just a means to an end.

The insects of the forest made their presence known, filling the silence with their calls as Thomas walked Elizabeth further into the woods. She felt empty.

She'd given up. She hated herself for that decision. Always a fighter. At least, that's how she used to view herself. Fighter for others never yourself. There was a reason why she fell for Thomas, despite everything he'd done, his family had done. Looking back, she was pretty sure her feelings had deepened toward him when he took care of her a few months ago when she got sick.

No one had ever taken care of her like that before. When she woke up with a fever she figured she'd have to deal with it on her own. Probably push herself and pretend to get better. But nope, Thomas refused to let her get out of bed. And he didn't leave her side till he was satisfied she was better. She didn't necessarily need him. It wasn't as if she were dying. But it was nice to see someone worry about her. He took care of her then, just like he tried to take care of her last night.

Hope.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth. No! She had to squash that feeling again that he'd done it for her. She had to think of him in a less romantic light. He was her rapist after all. The man who forced her to stay with him. Right, he didn't let her leave the room because he was in fear that she'd harm or even kill herself. If he attacked his uncle then it wasn't to avenge her, but because he was upset that Hoyt raped her pussy. That Hoyt may have gotten her pregnant and the baby had to be Thomas's.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Thomas stopped in his tracks. She found herself pressing against his body as butterflies filled her stomach with nerves. Slowly, she raised her gaze from the ground to look around. She didn't recognize the area. But they hadn't been walking for that much time. So, they were near the house. The butterflies intensified as her eyes fell on the structure in front of them.

They stood before a little cabin.

Overgrown shrubbery grew around and on the cabin. She wasn't entirely sure it was livable. Thomas stepped forward and she automatically followed him.

The screen door was actually well intact, not sporting any large holes due to neglect. She blinked in stunned surprise as the main door didn't fall apart when he opened it. The hinges squeaked and groaned, but held the door firmly to the frame. Thomas placed his hand on the small of her back, encouraging her forward.

She stopped only a few steps into the cabin. The insides looked almost as bad as the outside. It smelled of dust and possible mildew. Leaves piled in a corner near a broken window. Was it even fixable? Livable?

There was a large couch by a wall and a loveseat near it. Both were facing a fireplace and a sheet covered them. The fireplace was interesting. She'd never lived in Texas, she was a Northern girl after all. She wasn't sure if a fireplace was even needed. But it did look nice.

The place had clearly been worked on at some point. Not recently though. She could see the thin layer of dust on the floor and furniture. Wooden beams stood ready for drywall to be attached to them to create walls to separate the rooms. But, from where she stood, most of the house was rather open and visible.

Why bring her here?

Hope.

Her heart picked up its pace as she desperately tried to squash that feeling. She gulped before turning her gaze to Thomas.

The floorboards creaked with each step he took. He set the picnic basket down in the kitchen area before nonchalantly reaching out and tugging on a wooden beam. It was as if he was testing how sturdy it was. She half expected it to snap and for the whole house to topple onto them, but it didn't.

He moved around, carefully tapping the wood and testing it as if this was the first time he'd entered the cabin as well. As if he knew what he was doing.

Hope.

Closing her eyes, Elizabeth took in a deep breath and let it out. No. They were there for a different reason. They were probably going to sell the house and they needed someone to majorly clean it or something.

Her fingers gripped the fabric at the top of the couch. Yeah, clean and polish so that another family of cannibals would live on the Hewitt land. Opening her eyes, Elizabeth found Thomas.

He stood in the corner of the room. Behind him she could see the way into what she assumed was the kitchen. His eyes were soft, but his body slightly tensed. He was watching her carefully. It was almost as if he was holding his breath.

Hope.

"Don't do this," she whispered.

His eyes widened slightly. He didn't expect that. Neither did she. She felt her heart pound hard in her chest.

"Please, Thomas. Don't give me hope," her voice cracked. "You'll kill me."

He quickly shook his head and took a step toward her, hands reaching out. She rushed backwards, hitting the front door hard with her back. Her whole body screamed to run away, but she couldn't lower her hands to turn the doorknob and appease her flight reflex.

"Don't," she whimpered. Her hands moved automatically in front of her as if she could stop him. But, she couldn't handle it. Not anymore. She was barely hanging on by a thread. She was going to lose her goddamn mind, her will to live. And for whatever reason, she didn't want to. This was the only way she could survive. It wasn't much, but it was something. Just let them do whatever they wanted and expect nothing good to happen. Be the mother of his children and watch them be raised without having a say. Just be. That's all she wanted now. To just be even if that wasn't really living.

Thomas took a step back. He looked away for a moment. She couldn't move, could barely breath as she watched his movements. He set down the bag, he had slung over his shoulder, onto the end table by the couch.

Her whole body remained tense, stiff. She was unable, unwilling to give in to hope. Hope that perhaps she did have a higher value than Hoyt was making it seem. That Thomas was her ally. Her partner. That he was devastated and angry at his family and at Hoyt for what Hoyt did to her. That he would stand by her side.

Sifting through the bag, Thomas froze. She saw him gulp. Clearing his throat, he stood up and pulled a book out.

A wave of disappointment washed over her. So dramatic over a stupid book? She did like reading, but a book wasn't going to fix the situation. Wasn't going to make her feel better or give her the reassurance she needed.

Thomas walked toward her and she tried to shrink back. But there was nowhere for her to go. Stopping in front of her, he grabbed her hand with his free one. She refused to look at it as she stared up at him. Her mouth opened and closed in a silent plea. Thomas didn't take the book away. Instead, he closed her fingers around it before taking a few steps back, giving her room to breathe.

The weight and feel was oddly familiar. Dropping her shoulders, she lowered her gaze. She did tell herself she would do whatever he wanted and not argue, after all.

Her eyes widened and her world swirled on her.

"My… my album," she heard herself say, but she didn't recognize voice. Her mind remained blank, refusing to believe just yet. It had to be a dream. Her thinking perhaps?

With reverent care, she opened to the first page. The first two pictures were of her and her brother at their local fair. Both were doing their best to make a silly face in one photo. The other photo she had her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips pressed to his cheek.

Hope.

Butterflies filled her stomach. No, she couldn't allow herself that hope. Snapping the album shut, she looked up at him. Anger bubbled inside of her.

"I… I get to keep it?" she asked, her voice was soft with fear. Those weren't the words she wanted to say. She wanted to scream at him and demand he burn it. Or beg him not to give it to her. To throw it away in front of her. Not give her hope.

He nodded his head.

She felt her legs buckles as her knees gave out on her, but she couldn't do anything about that. Thomas's boots scrapped the wooden floor and suddenly, his strong arms wrapped around her, catching her before she hit the ground.

He easily lifted her up, pressing her tightly to his chest. Her fingers clenched onto the album tightly. It was a strange feeling as her body moved through the air while Thomas held her.

He moved them to a couch and sat. It creaked and groaned from their weight. His fingers pressed hard against her body, not letting her go. She didn't want him to let her go and wrapped one arm around his neck to hug him. The album pressed between them.

Hope.

No! She shook her head on his shoulder. She couldn't allow herself to give in. Thomas's family meant everything to him. She wasn't blood. She wasn't family.

Lifting her eyes, she meet his hazel ones. Soft. Caring. She couldn't help but shake her head.

"Thomas," she whispered, fresh tears started to flow down her cheeks. That was all she could say. Her throat refused to give any other sounds.

Thomas released her legs and moved his free hand up to his leather mask. He didn't hesitate in taking it off. Her fingers reached out to caress his face, like she'd grown accustomed to doing. She wanted him to be comfortable with being himself around her. No matter what he looked like.

He closed his eyes for a moment, clearly enjoying her touch. Then, grabbing her hand, he brought it to his mouth to kiss it. It was difficult to breathe. Difficult to comprehend or allow herself to believe what was happening.

Her eyes fell on his scrapped knuckles. She sniffled.

"You… you beat him up because he raped me? Not…not because you were worried he got me pregnant?"

Her light brown eyes raised to met his hazel ones. Since he couldn't talk she learned to read his face a little. And his eyes couldn't lie to her.

He held her gaze and firmly nodded his head. Letting her hand go, he reached out and stroked her cheek. Her whole body trembled as she fought with herself. She couldn't give in. The album was just another thing that could be used against her. Taken away from her.

A sound came out of his mouth. His throat moved and he grimaced then frowned in frustration. He was clearly trying to make a certain sound and couldn't.

"Thomas-" He placed his finger on her lips, silencing her and shook his head.

His throat moved as he swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. He let out a long breath. Then, squaring his shoulders he focused on her again. There was so much determination in his eyes.

"Ww," he coughed and grimaced.

Tightening his grip on her with his left hand, he set his right hand on her chest and cleared his throat.

"Wife." The word came out forced, just a little high pitched and clearly hurt.

Wife.

Hope.


A/N: AkumaNisshoku: Thank you for your review. I figured with the type of story this is that I wouldn't get many people reviewing. So I'm glad you took the time to tell me that you are enjoying this dark tale. Hope you continue to enjoy.