Rina Zante

He'd paid a visit again. Evil in its truest form. Not hidden under the veil of pleasure, but raw, crude evil.

His room oozed of dark vileness. The heavy stench flying into my nostrils, striking up a maternal instinct within me: the health of my baby. The stench could harm it.

I boiled in rage. Angry, I had seen the baby as mine, not ours. As though I'd impregnated myself. As if I had wanted a child in the first place. My dark emotions reinforced the evil by thickening the putrid air.

Evil was glued to his skin. His face red, the heat emanating from it almost cooked...