I stand at the altar, ready to marry the monster they have chosen for me, while my husband's body is still warm in his grave.
The sheen of off white lace covering my body- not white because a widow lacks purity-, falls in undulating waves and accentuates all my curves in the right places. I can tell given by the leery looks of the beady eyed gangsters ever since I walked in and made my way down the dreaded aisle.
They had the ceremony backwards; I walked in first with the orchestra playing and the bouquet in my hand already wilting, it's petals falling everywhere.
I had no veil on, thankgod, this facade was already starting to grate on my nerves.
The officiant started the ceremony despite the fact that my groom wasn't there.
In the middle of his intense speech about honor and the bonds of matrimony- what a joke-, the door flung open and my very own personal grim reaper made an appearance.
The groom was being supported by his two comrades as he staggered into the room with a smug look on his disgusting face. He reached me and stood so close that I could smell the alcohol in his breath. I resisted the urge to step back against the stench but he grabbed my face and mushed it between his meaty fingers, causing my jaw to ache.
The lusty gleam in his eyes told me just how ready he was to claim his prize. I refused to wince, simply looked him in the eye until he let me go and stepped back, laughing while slapping the back of the man next to him.
His comrades were equally repulsive; eyeing me like I was a sack of meat being served to them.
Though I suppose given how mafia marriages went, they weren't wrong. The dominion offered to a husband in this world set the stage for everything.
If he so wished, he could sample the goods for himself and then discard me to give off to his comrades. Not that it mattered to me- I had no plans to live beyond the end of this night.
A little white pill hidden in the intended honeymoon suite was going to be my salvation.
Before the ceremony was underway, sudden gunshots rang out and I stumbled in a panic, struggling to see with the sprays of hot liquid that sprayed over and coated my eyes. I rubbed my face and saw my hands- as bloody as the front of my dress.
My heart thundered against my chest as I looked down to see my intended husband laying in a heap on the ground, crushing the bodies of his comrades beneath him. I clamped my hands over my ears after hearing the subtle click of a gun being loaded- I was all too familiar with that sound- and braced myself as pandemonium ensued.
Showers of bullets erupted over the gangsters sitting in the pews; sharp panes of glass blew up at the impact and the shattered pieces flew around everywhere, leading to a crescendo of ringing gunshots and the screams of pain and fear.
It only lasted for a few minutes, and just like that, everyone in the room was dead. Everyone but me, the officiant and a group of men in black suits holding guns and forming a circle around the massacre. Utter silence reigned and the air in the room was permeated by an eerie, deathly stillness.
A man emerged from between the sea of dead bodies and I froze, unable to believe what I was seeing. Those blue eyes, that had been haunting me for as long as I could remember, were staring right at me.
Except they were darker, colder, and the man who possessed them was no more than a stranger.
He came straight at me and I stood there, numb by shock, as he towered over me. His gaze washed over my attire and I followed his line of sight- my dress was covered in my groom's blood.
Though I suppose a bloodstained dress was an appropriate attire for this wedding out of hell.
I couldn't breathe properly, let alone think about what I should do. The ringing of the gunshots was reverberating in my head and all I could see was them. My parents- who died by gunshots just like this all those years ago.
Before I can open my mouth to plead for my life, the man turns to the officiant and orders,
'Marry us.'
What?
I stare at him in shock, mirroring the expression on the officiant's face, except the sight of the man's gun waving in his face gets the officiant going.
He starts the ceremony from the beginning and I can barely hear him.
Why is he repeating it? The groom is already dead.
I close my eyes, desperately praying to get out of this hell when the officiant's voice snaps me back to reality. I raise my lids and realize that everyone in the room is looking at me. The officiant repeats,
'Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?'
His voice is shaky as he pleads with his eyes for me to answer. He motions to the man next to me and that's when it dawns on me what's really going on. I move to shake my head but the man steps forward and roughly grabs my wrist.
'Don't ask her.'
He orders the officiant, his voice so cold and lethal that I start shaking.
The officiant nods jerkily and continues, asking him the same question, but I feel myself drifting off somewhere else.
I am not here, I tell myself.
Even as the man replies in affirmative, sealing my fate. Even as a cold metal ring is forced onto my finger. Even as I am dragged towards a black car outside the chapel and taken away.