Deacon

Yep, today is not my lucky day. I cut this guy's hand weeks ago, which was bandaged up, I noticed. He's probably not going to like me so greatly now. Right now, I see a shocked and angry expression on his face. He looks like he's about to kill. Although, looking up at Deacon, I notice the same look on his face.
"What is this we've got here? A make out party?" I stay silent, kind of afraid what he'd do. I'm also a bit worried about what Deacon's next action will be. His grip on my shoulders tighten a little. He's pissed for sure. I can almost feel the murderer's instinct being poured onto me by him. I'm quite surprised my arms aren't ripped off, actually.
"Well? What are you going to do? Stand there like you don't know what I'm talking about?"
"What do you mean? Why are you angry at me?"
"Well, you cut my hand, for one. And for two, you're kissing a guy with a fucked up face."
"Don't you ever say that! He's beautiful! More than you could ever be!"
"Oh, so I'm the ugly one and he's Mr. Perfect. Why would you even touch him?"
"Why do you even care, rapist?"
"How am I a rapist."
"I knew what your intentions were that night. You and your friends wanted to take advantage of me because I was all alone."
"I should've. We should've held you down and taken turns. It's be so much more enjoyable for you than to do it with him." He looks at Deacon in anger. Deacon stares bake in equal or maybe even worse hatred. This was not going to end well. No not indeed.
"Is sex the only thing you think about?" I asked.
"Like you couldn't stop to think of such. You dirty little whore." Before I could even shout back, Deacon took a sickle from his coat and started cutting the guy. It cut him, pierced him, even tore the skin apart. Then, to make things even worse for the guy, Deacon made his sickle split apart and kept cutting him in more horrible ways. It was a gruesome, bloody sight but I was a little glad that he was gone. It sort of frightened me to see him do such a thing. He put his sickle back in his coat, turned, picked me up, and ran back to the cabin. When we got back, Ida and her husband were talking in the chapel and grew shocked when they saw us.
"What happened?" her husband asked.
"He came back. He saw us and made Deacon mad. He's dead now."
"What are you saying?"
"Nicole," Ida joins in, "Was it that man who chased you through the forest that night?" I nodded, now on the verge of tears.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Deacon and I were walking and getting to know each other. We started kissing and the guy came back. He recognized me and started saying things about him and called me a whore. That's when Deacon attacked him and brought me back here. Ida, it scared me so bad!"
"What scared you?"
"I didn't know what was going to happen. I know that you guys kill but I was afraid of what Deacon would do to him." Ida came to my side and started rubbing my back again.
"It's going to be okay. Deacon just gets a bit out of hand at times. He would never hurt the people he loved, though. Not unless he was provoked or if they did something bad to him." It wasn't Deacon I was afraid of. It just took me by surprise to see him that way. It was so sudden. I expected it but it happened too fast. So, it wasn't a kiss that told me that he loved me. He was willing to kill anyone that tried to hurt me. But then, I felt another hand on me and Ida stopped. I looked up to see Deacon, his eyes showing sadness for seeing me cry. He took his hat off where I saw that his scars went further on his face to his head and he was half bald. That one small half of his head where the scars were was hairless while the rest held long black locks. He was still beautiful to me. I hugged him and he hugged back. I felt loved now that he was here holding me. I didn't care that he was a murderer or a little disfigured. He was all I needed to be happy now that many things have crumbled before me since those past several weeks. I looked up and noticed Ida and her husband smiling down at Deacon and I.
"What?" He turned around and noticed too. He looked almost as confused as I was.
"Oh, it's nothing," Ida said, almost sounding too joyous, "Let me take you upstairs for supper. Your stomach must be grawling like crazy." She took my hand but Deacon still held onto me.
"It's okay, Deacon," I told him, calmly, "I'll be okay." He let go and I was taken back up to the house where we ate some roast beef. I still had to wonder what was so great that made them smile at us. I couldn't tell. Maybe they were just very happy to see us together or something. I don't know and I'll probably never be able to know.