The following weeks in the place she had imagined would be her own personal hell had quickly turned to bliss. In fact, weeks turned to months in the blink of an eye. The air around them had shifted, suddenly life here seemed more than bearable. The moments they had to spend apart were met with harder working hands just so they could tangle them in each other once more after sunset. She had awoken something in Thomas and it didn't go unnoticed by the other members of the household. He was happy, that was more than evident. He could barely go an hour without interrupting her in the middle of chores to steal her away, even for just a moment. He was addicted, they both were.

Ronnie waited patiently with a smile as she scrubbed the dishes over the sink. She heard the front door swing open followed by the sound of familiar and heavy footsteps approaching behind her. Then his hands snaked around her waist. She found herself just living for moments like that, when she could lean her head back on his shoulder so he could pepper her neck with kisses as he squeezed her closer to him. She let out a deep breath and relaxed into him, momentarily escaping the day's work in his arms. He brought his hand up to her chin to lift her lips to his. She smiled into his needy kiss, which always led to him pressing harder against her.

"Thomas, I can't just leave these dirty, what would your mother think?" Ronnie said playfully.

Thomas groaned as he went to silence her with another kiss. He reveled in the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears as she returned his kiss through that smile that seemed more present than not these days. He grabbed the plate out of her hand and set it down in the sink before he turned her around to continue his playful nagging.

"Alright you two," Luda Mae said, causing Thomas to drop his wandering hands down to his sides.

"Told you," Ronnie said under her breath with a smirk.

Mama rested her hands on her hips and looked at them with a pleased smiled. She loved seeing her son like this. She had grown so used to his heavy brows being scrunched atop his eyes and that frown that just barely hid behind his mask. It was different to see his eyes with life in them, it was something she never thought she'd get a chance to witness.

"I don't wanna be a killjoy," she said before she nodded towards the door, "Ronnie why don't you just help Tommy with whatever it is he's workin' on today. If he's workin' at all," she said, playfully narrowing her eyes at her youngest son.

"I'm sure he'll be fine on his own," Ronnie responded, which only made Tommy grab her hand in his to guide her out of the room.

Ronnie playfully dragged behind him as she turned back to Mama, "You sure you don't need me today?"

"Go on," Mama said as she went to grab the plates Ronnie had left, "I'll manage."

"I oughta cut you off, you know that," she heard Ronnie say to Tommy before the door shut behind them.

Luda laughed to herself as she continued with the dishes, but her laughter was cut short by someone who wasn't as contented with the happy couple.

"She's more trouble than she's worth," Hoyt muttered from the doorway as he watched them from the window, "that boy hasn't done Jack shit in weeks and it's her fault, you know that."

Mama let out a heavy sigh, "Is that all you do? Stand in the doorway and complain?"

He didn't even gratify her with a response, he was too focused on them. Luda could practically feel his discontent filling the room like a dense fog. He was more than hateful, his contempt for Ronnie was nearly enough to black out the sunshine that streamed into the kitchen. She didn't have to look at him to know he had his arms crossed and his tongue shoved into his lower lip as he milked his nicotine high for all it's worth. Though even nicotine did little to satiate him at this point. He needed something else, something she was preventing. Hoyt had a lust that hadn't been satisfied for far too long a time. A lust that if left unattended festered in him like a disease bound to infect any that crossed him when he was in such a state. Killing for him was more than survival. He could live off of rats, mice hell even chicken, he knew that. He'd always known that. Survival had nothing to do with it, that was simply a facade to keep them compliant. Thankfully his loving family never needed much convincing when it came to his word, they trusted him. They were foolish. Hoyt Hewitt killed purely and simply out of want. To deal death with his own hands gave him a high even the strongest form of tobacco imaginable could never provide. To consume a person granted something far beyond a high. It was power. Knowing whoever walked through that door, no matter what rank they held, how rich, poor, intelligent, big or small, knowing that he held their fate right there in the palm of his hand . . . It was ecstasy. It was his drug of choice and who was she to take that from him, to make him cut cold turkey? No. She didn't have the right. In Hoyt's humble opinion, an eye for an eye was the only solution. She took his drug, he would take her's. He wasn't just standing in the doorway to complain, he was there to think. Though Thomas and Ronnie's bond seemed to be iron clad, he had found a chip in the armor and he hadn't hesitated to infiltrate. He was close to breaking through, he could see it in those lingering glances she allowed herself each time she left the room. Her curiosity about that metal door and the secrets it held would be their damnation. He had let it grow on its own, she needed to form her own opinions on it first, he knew that. He knew she couldn't help but wonder what Tommy did down there. It only made it easier for a snake like him to find his way into her ear.

"Tommy hadn't shown you his workshop yet?" He would ask, "Must be keepin' somethin' real special for you."

He wasn't too overbearing, he knew better. He knew she hated him just as much as he did her. He was subtle, sly, cunning with his casual remarks. It wouldn't be long now. He saw her eyes roam even that day towards its eerie visage. She was no more than a cat curiosity was destined to kill.

Ronnie wanted to relish in the way his lips felt against her neck. Normally she did. She loved the way someone so rough, so intimidating found it within himself to be gentle and only for her. He loved her so well and she loved loving him. However, she found herself distracted more often than not in those intimate moments in the last few days. Nothing about what they were doing was wrong, it was absolutely right in almost every way, but it was far from safe. Maybe that's what made it so damn good, the slight hint of danger she seemed to feel each time they did this dance. It only seemed to add to her inability to deny him, but she couldn't ignore that slow growing fear the softness of his lips on her's brought. The way his touch seemed to overtake her, forcing her to let go of all sense and sensibility, rearranging her thoughts so that her sole focus was only him. She wondered if he knew that's what he did to her, if he meant to, if he had any idea of how addicted to him she had become. So addicted she was willing to risk succumbing to what had become her greatest fear just to feel undeniably bound to him. She envied his way of loving with reckless abandon, the possible consequences of their actions didn't seem to matter at all to him. She couldn't fathom that he hadn't even considered them, then again, she seemed to be his guide in this new chapter of his life and she hadn't dared mention her worries. He was so happy, she couldn't stand the thought of taking that away from him. To him, she was the only thing that mattered. Whatever danger came her way he would simply snuff it out with brute force. He hadn't thought about a threat that couldn't be handled in such a manner. He didn't know she was late, more than a week. She had been in the past, it wasn't something that was terribly new for her, but the knowledge was slowly dragging her back down to reality. For the first time in her life it wasn't the person she was with that worried her. Thomas may have been born into savagery, but he was far from evil. He had all the makings to be a better father than the one she had had. He was kind, forgiving, generous and when he loved he loved fearlessly. She had no doubt his love for his child would be limitless, no matter the circumstances, but for her the circumstances were what frightened her most. It was this place. She could bear it, the hard living, the questionable nature in which this family she had become so entangled with lived, but a child, a baby? This place wouldn't offer something so delicate any sort of safety to grow in. Maybe between Thomas and Luda there was a way, but only if one very specific threat that hadn't escaped her thoughts was subtracted from the equation. Hoyt. Oh, she hadn't forgotten him. Quite the opposite. She was very aware of his beady eyes and their laser focus on each move she made throughout her days. He was a predator just waiting for his opportunity to strike. She remembered well what her original purpose here was, to be bred, and here she was practically giving them what they wanted, and willingly. She hated thinking that, she knew that wasn't Thomas' intention, he wouldn't do that to her, not purposefully, but he was so naive. She felt like she was betraying him with that thought alone, but he was if he was under the impression that that man would allow them any kind of happiness. As soon as she served her purpose her time there would be up, Hoyt didn't have to verbalize that for Ronnie to know that was the case. She could feel it in the way he watched them. The beginning of those nine months would mark the beginning of the end for her. Her days with Thomas, with breath in her lungs, would be numbered. He would kill her, she was sure of it.

"Ronnie?"

The barely audible gruff voice of her lover ripped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was hovering over her, his blue eyes overflowing with concern as his hand rested against her cheek. He was plagued with guilt for not noticing that the color had drained from her face sooner. She began to sit up, hand against his chest so he would move with her.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

She recognized that worried expression in the two distinct lines between his brows and quickly forced a smile up at him.

"Don't worry, it's not you. Just got lost in thought, that's all," she said reassuringly.

He wasn't buying it. He sat in front of her and patiently awaited an elaboration. He had become aware of her change in demeanor days before, but Thomas didn't like to pry. However, with the way her eyes nervously shifted away from his and the way she silently picked at the dry skin around her fingernails, he couldn't ignore it any longer. Something was wrong. He gently guided her gaze back towards him and brushed his thumb over her chin. Ronnie hesitated to speak, she knew she couldn't share each thought she'd had, but one had to make itself known.

"Thomas," she started carefully, "do you think we'll ever really leave?"

He found little relief from his worries in her question, though he tried his best not to let it show. He gave her a soft nod. It only added to his guilt, he knew he was lying. In fact, Thomas hadn't given a single thought to an escape plan in months. He assumed that maybe she had let go of her desire to rid herself of this place and had given in to calling it home as he did. She looked away and he could feel her distrust of his answer. She had every right to doubt it, but it saddened him to know that was something he wasn't quite sure he could give her. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for Ronnie, there wasn't much that frightened him, but the thought of leaving home brought on dread he couldn't explain, at least not to her. He had tried to imagine it, a life outside of the Hewitt household, a life that consisted of only Ronnie. That part was something he figured he would enjoy immensely, at least the unlimited amount of privacy with her it would grant him. The other aspects however were what cause his apprehension. It wouldn't just be Ronnie, not forever. He would be opening himself up to ridicule that he had faced before, only he wouldn't have the comfort of his mother, he wouldn't be able to hide away from it behind a mask or in the basement. He wouldn't be able to act on his rage when the world inevitably reminded him of what he really was. He may have found kindness in Ronnie, but Thomas wasn't dumb. The world didn't have many people like her, not everyone was so forgiving. Hoyt had taught him that and well. Perhaps most wouldn't be nearly as cruel as he had been, but the thought of them even coming close brought on the weakness he had felt almost his entire life. He knew it was selfish, to keep her here shielded away from life with him, but he hadn't the slightest inkling of how to exist outside of those walls.

"Tommy," Hoyt's voice shattered the silence that had befallen them, "quit fuckin' around. I know you ain't done shit but fool around with that girl all day. Mama might let that slide, but you're dumber than I already thought if you think I'm gonna."

Usually Ronnie would simply roll her eyes at Hoyt's incessant nagging, but this time Thomas saw fear playing in her expression. He knew she wasn't a fan of his adopted brother, but he thought she had let go of her worries regarding him. Thomas had made it clear he'd be there to protect her from any more of his games, but he wondered if maybe she wasn't as confident in him than he'd grown to think she was. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in to place a reassuring kiss on her forehead. Ronnie closed her eyes and tried to enjoy his touch as much as she could, but it only made her chest tighten. He just didn't understand the danger they were in.

He stood up and left her to her own devices for presumably the rest of the day. She fixed the straps on her dress and let out a heavy sigh. She wouldn't be much use out here in the barn, so she made her way back to the house. As she walked she felt the discomfort that an ill intended gaze brought on. She didn't have to look to know it was Hoyt, she didn't want to see that oddly pleased expression he'd been wearing more often than not in recent days. Whatever he was up to made her skin crawl, it was never a good thing to see that man happy. His happiness was derived from other's demise and she just knew it was her's he was working on.

She pushed the front door open, but didn't hear the usual sounds of Mama puttering about the place. She must have gone up to the station, Ronnie thought to herself. She peered around the corner into the dining room to see if Monty was at least there, maybe she wouldn't have to be alone. Much to her dismay, the old man must have gone with Luda. The place was empty, the chores were done. She had nothing else to do but wait for Thomas to wrap his day up with that bastard and he would surely keep him busy for as long as possible just to spite her. She went to the window and looked through the aged glass in search of something to distract herself from the one thing she hated most about that house, even more than Hoyt. She felt as though it had eyes and they were steadily burning a hole into her back. The long hallway from the dining room that led to the basement door loomed behind her. She swore it had an audible whisper that could be heard from any part of the house, it gradually drew her nearer to it day by day. A call that had been left unanswered since she the day she had arrived there and she heard it quite clearly in that moment from where she stood. Against her better judgment, she turned to face it. It was the only thing about Thomas that she had no knowledge of, but he seemed to find refuge down there. Though, she didn't quite understand why. It's image alone filled her with an indescribable dread, she couldn't fathom how it offered him any comfort, nor could she explain her own fear of it. It was so hard to ignore, it was so out of place. The house itself didn't seem to fit around it. The old wood framed the cold metal in such an unsettling way that it stuck out like a sore thumb. It was something that simply just didn't belong, but she found herself wandering closer to it. It's whispering grew louder with each step she took as did her own conscious, it was practically screaming for her to turn back, but she couldn't stop moving towards it. She didn't, not until they were face to face. It stood tall before her, reaching up to the ceiling and it's frame wide enough to fit at least two men of Thomas' size between it. She never saw anyone else but him go down there, occasionally Hoyt, though even he seemed to keep his distance. They never spoke about it either, not a word, other than the first time she had ever stood in front of it.

Take the girl downstairs and get this over with.

They didn't have to mention skinning her alive for her to know what they meant by that. It had come out of Luda's mouth so naturally as if she was simply asking her son to take the dog out for a walk. Ronnie didn't like to think it, but she wasn't dumb. It sounded so natural coming out of the woman's mouth because she wasn't the first they had ordered him to take down there. She couldn't imagine the man she had come to love so dearly, the man who's arms brought her so much comfort was capable of causing anyone, or anything for that matter, harm. Perhaps that's why she hated that door so much, it made her question her own judgment, it made her question Thomas.

"I reckon you're lookin' for Tommy," a voice she knew all too well said quietly in her ear.

He had startled her, just as he'd hoped to. She flinched away from him and he watched with amusement as she turned to grace him with that hateful glare.

"Think I saw him go down there," he said as he looked her up and down with his tongue in his bottom lip, "oughta go check, don't you think?"

It wasn't the first time he'd done that. He had been harping on it endlessly, daring her to go down there. It only added to her unease about that damn room. There was something he clearly wanted her to see hidden inside. He had become akin to the snake in the garden of Eden and he wanted her to be his Eve. He was the whisper she heard when she so much as thought about the metal door. That irritating smile began to spread across his face as he watched her chest start to heave up and down. He loved that he had the power to fill her with such rage.

"Why do you want me to go down there so damn bad, huh?" Ronnie blurted out without a second thought.

He raised his eyebrows and held up his hands in mock surrender, "I just don't think husbands and wives should keep secrets, that's all."

"Why do you care?"

She watched him with suspicion as he contemplated his answer. He played with the dip in his lip as he matched her hatred with his own eyes, letting them wander in places they weren't wanted. He curled his lip before he cut his gaze back up to meet her's.

"I just want the best for Tommy, that's all," he said, however his tone didn't match his words in the slightest. He sounded menacing.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as he continued to watch her. Ronnie hadn't moved a muscle, but he could feel her desire to open that door had reached its peak. He had her now.

"What do you think 's down there, Ronnie?"

She shifted then. That slight movement said a thousand words, though she didn't know how to answer his question. Her eyes moved back towards the door.

"What do you think Tommy does behind that door?"

He took a step closer to her and she winced, which only made him chuckle. Her eyes were on the metal handle now. He slowly reached his hand past her and wrapped his fingers around it. He pulled it to the side just enough to hear the bottom of the door scrape the floor below.

"Don't you wanna know?"

He began to open it further and she quickly removed her gaze from it, "Fuck off," she snapped up at him.

His hand flew up with his other and pushed her by her shoulders against the cold metal, "You do, don't you?"

She felt the spit that flew out with his words against her face and his hot breath on her skin. She tried to push him off of her, but he wouldn't let up. He leaned in even closer, she squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face to the side. It was the only thing she could do, she couldn't get away from him. Nor could she hide the fact that he was right, she did want to know. She could feel his breath on her ear now as he pressed further.

"You're afraid aren't you," he whispered, "you're afraid you don't know him."

"Stop it," Ronnie said in a weaker voice than she'd hoped, "please stop."

He laughed and she felt his fingers tangle in her braid. He brought it up to his nose and inhaled. He let out a sigh that made her nauseous, his breath reeked of tobacco. He dropped her hair and instead grabbed her jaw and forced her to face him once more.

"You should be," he muttered, "you don't know shit."

With that, he whipped his hand away from her and walked away. Ronnie stood there, back against the door, shaking. Her eyes remained closed to keep the tears that had formed from spilling. He had to be wrong, she did know Thomas, better than anyone there, but his words had cut deep. They had found that small bit of doubt she had about him and latched on tight enough to drag it to the surface. Her hand wandered from behind her back and trailed up to the handle of the door. She could feel her heart threatening to escape her chest as soon as the sound of metal scraping filled the room. She hoped so badly she would prove him wrong. She needed to know Thomas was good, that she hadn't been wrong, but a smell wafted up through the opening that made her stomach churn. She opened her eyes and slowly turned to face her fears. The door was opened just enough for her to see the stairs that led down to the basement. She pushed it to the side just enough for her to slip through. Her feet found each step brought more terror than the last, but she pressed on, in fact she quickened her pace. She knew if she focused on the dread that was slowly building inside her chest, she would turn and run. She couldn't run anymore, she had already ignored this part of him long enough, she had to know. She paused just before the wall cut off to collect herself. Whatever she found, she would forgive, she told herself that and repeated it over and over. She felt as though she was about to jump off of the highest cliff, but jump she did. She kept her eyes on the floor until she had found her way to the center of the room, then she looked up.

"No," she whispered as she took in the horror that surrounded her.

In the middle of the room there was a table, a cutting board large enough to fit a grown man on it. There were chains attached to both the top and bottom, one for each wrist, each ankle. Blood had soaked so deep into the wood it had left a permanent stain that was visible underneath the chainsaw that tried hard to hide it. Hooks hung from the ceiling, some were bare, but others had what looked like carved leather hanging from them. With shaky hands, she grabbed one and brought it down to her. The material was rough and looked almost brown on one side, but when she flipped it over a sob escaped her lips. A face stared up at her through empty sockets, it's mouth had been cut and the sides had string laced through blood stained holes. It was human flesh she was holding, it was flesh that hung from the hooks. They had belonged to people, the people Thomas had brought down there. She dropped it and looked around frantically. Various tools were scattered about the room, each one was bloodstained. There was a table nestled in the corner just a few feet away with a cracked mirror resting on it. She moved closer to it and saw one of the faces was lying next to it. Then she realized. They were masks.

"Thomas couldn't have done this, he couldn't," she muttered to herself as she ran her hands through her hair.

Tears were flowing silently down her face as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing, but it only led her to one conclusion. She had been wrong all along. She had been so, so wrong. She felt a wave of nausea rush over her and before she could put her hand to her mouth, she vomited. She put her hand over her stomach as she heaved, but when she'd finished, she left it there.

"God, no," she said as she looked down at where her hand rested.

Because she knew.