On a cold winter night, Frieda was awakened by the soft chattering of the other girls. They were looking out the window, and when they noticed her awake they went immediately quiet. She knew something was wrong, and rushed over to the window. Outside she could see Hans, and he was being beaten by ten other boys, including Wendell. She ran down stairs and was outside as fast as her feet would carry her. There were more than ten boys milling about in the snow, she spotted six lying nearby with various incapacitating injuries. It was obvious to her now that it had taken nearly twenty boys to overpower Hans. He was being held by four boys, two on each arm as Wendell struck him repeatedly. She watched in horror, and was not sure what to do. Then Wendell pulled a knife from the sheath strapped onto his belt. She had to act! “Stop it! Stop hurting my brother!”
“Frieda, go back inside,” Hans could barely stand. Frieda wondered just how long they had been beating him.
“I can’t let them kill you,” Frieda walked over to Wendell. “You, what do you want?”
Wendell cocked his head and let out a charming smile, “I want what I have always wanted. I want you.” Despite everything Frieda found the boy attractive especially in the moonlight, she just never knew how to return his affections. It was a skill she did not possess.
“If I let you have me will you let Hans go?” Frieda took a step toward the group of boys. Hans’ lips were trembling, he wanted to act but his strength was all but gone.
“Don’t do this Frieda,” Hans’ eyes relayed his pleas more than his words ever could to her.
“I need to protect you, like you have always watched over me brother,” Frieda looked at Wendell and held out her hand. Wendell handed the knife to Hedwig.
“Watch him,” Wendell took Frieda’s hand and began guiding her around the building and out of sight of the other boys. “If he moves, give him a nice cut.” The pair walked to the nearby woodshed. It was as good a place as any. They entered the ten foot by ten foot structure. Frieda looked around as Wendell turned on the light. The shed was lined with chopped pieces of wood; she spotted several axes hanging high above. Her heart began pounding as Wendell placed his hands on her shoulders and began pushing her down to the floor. She lay on the cold wooded floor as Wendell kissed her neck and caressed her breasts. She continued staring at the axes, so far above her and so far out of reach.
“You will enjoy this I promise,” Wendell reached down her thigh and began lifting her night gown as he unbuckled his pants.
“Yes,” Frieda looked deeply into Wendell’s eyes. “Yes I believe I will.” She jabbed a jagged piece of wood deep into his throat. He had failed to notice her reaching for it as he entertained his fantasies. Wendell sat up as blood sprayed out of his throat covering Frieda. She found that she enjoyed the sensation and the warmth it provided. She kicked him off of her and stood up. She watched as Wendell tried to both call for help and crawl out of the shed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Were you not looking for penetration? I suppose this isn’t how you envisioned our romantic tryst. Well now it is I who is envisioning things, and I am envisioning you dead.” She reached and grabbed an axe. “No one hurts my brother.”
Hans watched as his sister was led away and was forced to wait. Time seemed to slow, as he stood there restrained. He did not want this for her; he wanted a good man for her, and honorable man. The fact the she was going to be spoiled by a pig of a man was too much for him. He had enough, too much time had passed, and a surge of inner strength filled him. He pulled his right arm as hard and he could, catching his restrainers off guard. One fell back and the other was hurled forward into Hedwig, who dropped Wendell’s knife into the snow. The boys on his left began kicking him as the others boys advanced on him. Hans stopped pulling punches. Over the years he had realized just how strong he really was and tried not to overly hurt anyone he fought, but that time was now over. Hedwig reached down for the knife, but Hans grabbed his head and yanked it back. The boy went limp and slumped into the snow after a very audible snap echoed into the night. Some of the boys stopped moving momentarily after the realization that one of their own was now actually dead, others were transfixed on something behind Hans.
Hans turned around and found Frieda walking toward the group; she was dragging an axe in one hand and Wendell’s head in the other. She was completely covered in blood. Before anyone could act, she hurled the head at a group of boys near Hans, forcing them to scatter. “Who dies next?” The boys watched as Frieda looked over to Gustav. He was sitting in the snow, resting against a tree, his leg was broken. She surmised that Hans had broken it in the initial struggle. She skipped over to him and then smiled, “No one touches me or my brother.” She hefted up the axe and bought it down on Gustav as he screamed in abject horror and was instantly silenced, “Shhhhhh.”