Lashirah_Hash

They called it blasphemy.
A sin against God.
A disgrace against blood.

The news headlines twisted her name like a curse.
Muslim Girl Marries Two Brothers in Secret Ceremony.
Father Disowns Daughter Over Immoral Union.
Religious Extremists and Feminists Clash in Street Protests.

But none of them knew the truth.

Not the journalists who stalked her outside the courthouse.
Not the clerics who spat fire from the pulpit.
Not the activists who used her face for posters, never asking if she even agreed with them.

They didn’t know about the long nights with one brother’s rage burning her skin—and the other’s cold touch wrapping around her heart like barbed wire.

They didn’t know how it started—not with love, but with survival.

They didn’t know that once, she believed in God more than anything.
And now?

Now, she stood in front of a grave with no name.
Black veil pulled tight.
A Qur’an in her hand.
Two wedding rings on her finger.

Behind her, they stood—her husbands.
One with blood on his hands.
The other with secrets behind his eyes.

She would never be the same girl again.
But she was still alive.
Still burning.

And if the world wanted a monster?

She would give them on

BETWEEN GOD AND THE MONSTERS

The town was silent, but the silence screamed.

Lucien and Silas stood in the dim morning light, parked just outside the crumbling chapel where their father used to drag them. A place meant to represent salvation. It had only ever meant pain.

Lucien stared ahead, jaw tight, hands wrapped in fresh bandages. "We start here."

Silas didn't respond. He stared at the cross on top of the chapel, then tore his eyes away like it burned. "This is where the monster liked to keep his secrets."

Inside, dust curled through the broken pews. The air smelled of rot and dried wine. They searched every shadow, every creaking corridor. Nothing. Only ghosts.

Then, beneath the altar, Silas found it—an old safe, still warm from use. Inside: photos. Aaliyah. Their hideout. Notes in familiar handwriting.

"He's been watching," Lucien whispered. "All this time…"

But then Silas saw something else. A phone number. Scrawled on the back of a torn envelope. One that didn't belong to their father. One that had a name written beside it.

Lucien's breath caught. "It wasn't him…"

Silas nodded slowly, horror dawning. "It was her family."

For a moment, neither moved. The weight of betrayal curled between them.

"She's not just in danger," Lucien whispered. "They'll rip her apart from the inside. In the name of purity. Of God. Of blood."

She hadn't slept. Her body trembled from hunger, from grief, from the cold floor. But worse was the silence. They hadn't come back since yesterday.

She thought of Lucien's touch, the way his fingers trembled when they held her. She thought of Silas, the way he kissed her like he was afraid to lose her.

She thought of how she never got to say goodbye.

Her aunt this time, in a long black veil. Her voice soft, sweet, deadly.

"For the erasure of sin, child. The removal of the corruption inside you."

They dragged her out by the arms. Screaming.

Somewhere far away, she heard thunder—or maybe it was the sound of her soul breaking.

Lucien drove like a man possessed, Silas silent beside him. The storm came fast, lashing the windshield, wind howling like the voices of the dead.

"We're too late," Lucien muttered. "We should've seen this coming."

"No," Silas growled. "We're right on time."

Now they were ready to burn bloodlines.

Blood Knows No Mercy