I look down at Casper sleeping soundly. He’s lying on his front, both arms tucked under his pillow. Leaning down, I kiss his spine, and he moans sleepily.

“Morning, baby,” he whispers.

“Morning,” I reply, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Casper turns over to face me. “Where are you going?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him.

“I’m going over to the fields, I want to take some photos. Sunday’s are usually pretty quiet out there so I won’t be in the way if I park the truck on the side of the road,” I explain. “Anyway, it’s nearly noon, you need to get your delectable, but lazy ass, up.”

He does an ab curl and kisses me, it’s not soft and tender, it’s hard and needy, and I feel my body react.

Pulling away, I put some distance between us. “I need to get this assignment done, I think…” I look away then back to him, “… I know what I want for my future,” I tell him.

“Oh?” he replies, genuinely curious.

“Don’t laugh, but I want to be a curator at an art museum. I’ll need to intern and stuff, but it’s what I want.”

Casper studies my face. “Firstly, I will never laugh at you. Okay?” I nod in reply, and he runs his finger across my eyebrow and down my cheek. “Secondly, I think you’d rock at that job, and I’ll support you in every way I can. Now go, before I drag you back to bed,” he tells me smiling.

I head out to my truck, Betty, placing my camera on the passenger seat.

Starbucks first, then the field.

Two hours later and I can’t stop smiling as I flick through the photos on my camera. I feel really good about what I’ve captured so far. Plus, the bonus is that I’m truly enjoying this assignment. It’s like my life has fallen into place and I shake my head, wondering how I got so lucky.

I realize I made a huge mistake as I head back to Betty, knowing my cell is inside her cab. My realization occurs a few seconds after a truck pulls up behind her, and a group of six guys—all with baseball caps pulled down low—hastily jump out. I try to act like they’re not there, hustling to get to Betty, but they’re on me before I make it. I’ve no idea who they are, or what they want, but I’m on the ground before I have a chance to even look at a single face.

It’s funny, or maybe it isn’t.

In a moment when life can become so abhorrent, so horrifically cruel it should be all our brain allows us to focus on, that’s when the beautiful mind comes into its own. Because in that second it provides escape, taking us away from the unbearable pain we’re living in the present.

Fists rain down on me like rocks, heavy boots striking my ribs with force, my lungs struggle to breathe, and my eyes strain to find solace. Searching out the only beautiful in that moment, purple and pink blur my vision as the tears flow uncontrolled. I don’t know where my camera went in the tussle, but if the field of Cosmos flowers I was photographing is the last thing I see, then I’m truly blessed my mind has decided to gift me with that beauty.

As they shout their poisonous words, aggressively delivering evil—no doubt accompanied by spittle—my body becomes numb, and my mind tries to do the same.

“Fucking faggot.”

“Yeah, dirty ass beater.”

“I hate pussies like you. I bet you were staring at our dicks in the changing room.”

I don’t argue, don’t mention that I wasn’t even in their changing room. There’s no point. Six against one, the odds aren’t in my favor. Instead, I focus on the flowers. Something pretty in the darkness. I know it won’t be long before I black out. Then I may wake up… or I might not.

My teeth rattle and blood pools on the ground as it spills from my mouth. Another blow hits my skull, and the throbbing spreads as my ears start ringing. Someone must jump on my lower leg because a scream rips from my chest as the pain radiates through my limb. Coughing, I’m not sure my body can sustain much more, while my chest revolts as I try to breathe.

I don’t know what the afterlife will be like. Is there even a place for someone like me?

There’s only one thing on my mind. One person. Casper. And as I slip in and out of consciousness, I hope, no, I fucking pray, that they haven’t got any suspicions about him. I need to let him know they came for me, I need to warn him.

Looking through the slits that my eyelids have become, I can only make out a dark figure as he crouches down at my side. “You’re a disease. People like you shouldn’t be allowed to socialize within normal society.” His hot breath smells of beer, and I know his voice, but it’s out of my grasp right now, held somewhere in the recesses of my brain. I can’t quite pick out who it is. But I know it. I know him. “The fact is, fags like you are always trying to turn real men like me.” He trails his finger across my chin, and I catch a faint whiff of something… peanuts. “You’ll never be a real man.” With those words, he punches me once, twice, three times in the face before I lose count and unconsciousness, or death takes me.

“Caden!” The scream rips me from the darkness, like a tear in the edge of space, I’m sucked toward the sound. Just about managing to open an eye as the physical blows cease, I see Casper.

I want to shout, ‘No!’ I want to tell him to run, as fast as he can. He can’t be here, he can’t get hurt.

“Casper,” I croak, but he doesn’t hear me, I don’t think anyone can. There’s too much noise, people are shouting. I hear Casper’s roars of pure anger, but he’s still only one person.

Just one.

My eyes drift shut, I’m desperate to keep watching, but they’re so heavy. Screeching tires force me to look once again, this time it’s Tarrant. The car barely comes to a stop before his door is open and he’s out, smacking the shit out of someone. I can’t hold onto my consciousness anymore. As my eyes close again, all I can think is how there’s only two of them, and I pray they’re okay.