Like a Phoenix Rising From the Ashes, Soaring in the Sky

Just like in my previous life, I used the spare key to Martha's apartment and unlocked the door. The living room was empty, and the group of women walked in without hesitation. I stayed at the back, quietly closing the door behind us.

One of the women called out tentatively toward the bedroom, "Anyone home?"

Suddenly, there was a commotion from inside the bedroom, and everyone quickly gathered at the door. Just as Mrs. Clark was about to knock, the door burst open.

There stood Joe, Martha's mentally disabled son, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of red boxers, drooling as he leered at us. "Heh heh, my wife… my wife is here…"

Seeing this, a wave of disgust washed over me, sending a cold shiver down my spine. I instinctively took a few steps back.

"Oh my, why didn't Joe put his clothes on before coming out?" Mrs. Clark frowned while the others awkwardly covered their eyes.

Joe looked confused, his eyes darting between the women in the room, clearly unsure which one his mother had promised him as a wife.

"Joe, where's your mom?" Mrs. Clark asked, stepping forward.

Joe just giggled, lunging at Mrs. Clark, wrapping his arms around her, and slurring, "Wife… wife, you finally came!"

Then he leaned in to kiss her.

"Hey! Let me go!" Mrs. Clark gasped, utterly shocked that she, a middle-aged woman, would find herself in such a situation. Furious and embarrassed, she grabbed a handful of Joe's hair and kicked him to the ground.

It was as if someone had trained him; despite being knocked down, Joe immediately scrambled back up and lunged at her again. "You can't leave! Stay! Be my wife!"

"You think you can get away with this? You're dead!" Mrs. Clark was a stout woman, used to hard work and not lacking in strength. She slapped Joe so hard he was momentarily dazed.

The others were stunned for a second, but as soon as they realized what was happening, they were outraged and rushed in to help. Joe refused to let go, clinging to Mrs. Clark and trying to make his move. But after a thorough beating that left him bruised and battered, he finally let go and crawled back toward the bedroom, crying out, "Mom! Mom, help me!"

"Let's tie him up and take him to the police station!" someone shouted.

The room was chaotic, and no one noticed the faint movement under the bed, where a shadow lurked, waiting.

The wicked received their due punishment, and my mother and I moved toward a happier future.