When she unfolded the paper, her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Oh Seth!” she cried.“Will you marry me, Tara?” I asked, having gotten down on one knee in front of her.With tears running down her cheeks, Tara lifted her eyes from the ring to gaze at me. “Yes,” she whispered.I took the ring and placed in on her finger. “I love you. I want to be with you forever. I want you to be my wife.”Tara and I were married the following summer. It was a fairly simple and small ceremony. Her father gave her away. Amanda was her matron of honor and my Mom was her bridesmaid. My Dad was my best man. Our honeymoon was really only a long weekend, because of our work, but we were ecstatic. We spent the entire time in bed, fucking our brains out!A few days before Christmas that year, we realized that it was the five-year anniversary of the horrible night we had spent in the cabin with the sadistic rapist and murderer, Zeke, and his kind-hearted, gentle giant of a brother, Merle. The. It seemed much easier inclass with one attacker coming straight at her. With two, two strong men inwas not so simple. She had been walking home from the store. It wasn't darkyet, the sun just starting to set, the streetlights not on yet. She had feltreasonable safe, having done this before. The neighbor was safe, or so shethought it was. For an eighteen year old girl, life was always a series ofchallenges and adventures. Except for the rape protection class, which hermother had forced her to attend, she always felt safe, having a tendency tounderestimate danger, seeing it more as adventure. She regretted it now. They came out of nowhere. One minute the street was empty,the next she felt someone behind her. Before she had a chance to react, herarms were pulled behind her back, a hand thrown tightly over her mouth. Shewas hefted up into the arms of the men, one holding her arms tightly, the otherlifting her feet off the ground and hustled off to the car that was parkedaround the.
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