I sat elegantly yet shyly as I was superbly decorated more than the former. This time diamond bracelets piled my neck and wrist. On my feet was a pair of Italian stiletto and my wedding gown was shapely made from the Royal Home of England. The tailor-made wedding gown caught my shape so invitingly that my curves and hour-glass shot out at the right edges and corners.
"Wow this is so much for a wedding gown that would worn by the mad man's wife," one of the maidens gossiped with another by the corner as they gaped at the POS slip for the purchase of the wedding gown.
"How much is it worth?" another asked cheerfully.
"Eightmillion dollars!" the maiden replied, and cast an inspective gaze at me, probably expecting my reactions.
My eyes almost burnt with tears at the thought of my attribute hence forth; mad man's wife. That was what I was brooding about inwardly not even the worth of my wedding gown. I wondered how I was going to deal with the reserved emotional trauma this marriage was going to cost me; the fate that awaited me and the end of this toxic marriage.
I sniffed and Salsa peered at me and queried, "Do you want to cry?"
I barely could shake my head to that question and I would have preferred that question during the signing of the contract papers hereafter.
When Salsa pulled forward with trays of lip gloss to moisten my thin-slice lips, warm, uneasy tears welled up in my eyes that it soon surged and trickled down my cheeks expressly. I pouted and I thought this whole drama would morph into a better fate; because obviously this was ill fate and its end could leave me shattered; I thought.
Salsa puzzled for one bit, raised a furrowed brow at me and snorted impatiently. She withdrew her lip gloss and allowed me to shed tears to my satisfaction as though she had no intention to nurse anyone in her life.
All the maidens stood gazing at me with reckless abandon. I didn't think any of them was willing to pet me or sympathize with my ill fate.
Rather one of them protested against the style of hair I wore, stroking my hair while I wept like a kid whose cookies were far-fetched,
"But ma'am, French pony tail would have given her the Ideal look of a bride," she advised Salsa.
Salsa shook her head this way and that way, dimmed her gaze at me to consider what the maiden just said. Finally she gave
I wondered what sort of human beings surrounded me. I was drawn in my misery and sheer ill-fate that was about befalling me and these ones were busy blabbing rubbish about hairstyle.
"She should just have the one she has already. After all she is just a poor vegetable seller," one sounded arrogantly, and sighed.
"Hmm, yes fortunate to marry the billionaire's mad son," another maid intoned paced up and down the room to get stuffs for my decoration.
"Is she a virgin?" another asked idly while she gave Salsa the threads.
"I don't think so. Street poor girls are rarely virgins," another muttered, dusting my face
"Yes," another picked on the discussion, at late hour, thugs and bad boys give them quickie on the dark edge of the street. I have seen them severally."
I heard a bing of bell.
"You all have to keep shut and do the needful so that we will present the bride for the contract marriage. At the sound of the third bell we all will vacate here," Salsa warned, and hastened up her fingers on my hair.
"Ok, chief maid!" they all replied at once.
"I can't wait to see the vagina of a virgin and how they moan during sex," another maid opened a fresh discussion.
I sobbed, and felt ridiculed. My womanhood had been stabbed by a thousand words.
"Why don't you wait tonight when the billionaire's mad son will be banging our amiable new wife."
When I thought I was done shedding tears, these maids were busy provoking my countenance with their seedy discussion about me.
"Do mad men trigger motion, let alone erection," another contemplated and steered my heart with her offensive chuckling.
"Yes of course," Salsa replied and seemed to have been trapped in the discussion.
I scowled at her; even she noticed I was seethed. But she didn't care. She continued, "The problem is they don't know how to put it to use they could be staring at their erect penis and be laughing. A mad man is a mad man whether the son of a billionaire or not."
"Yes chief maiden they could take their big erect penis for some garden fork."
The whole of the maidens let loose a thunderous laugh that burnt my eyes with warm tears. I was humiliated and downtrodden.
The third bing of the bell went.
"Maidens present our new bride!" a groaning voice chirped from outside the chamber.
"Arise Melissa!" Salsa commanded me and gave me her soft palms.
I was unhesitant. Oh my God! I can't believe this. So I was about to be given in marriage to a violent mad man just because of money. Lord could you just heal my mother right now, and I would dash away and call this a quit.
Lord I hope you can hear me? Are you still up there? Will you sit back and watch this happen to me? Will you?
I pondered while I cast a thought-driven stare at the mirror to behold the heavy make-over Salsa and her girls gave me.
"Arise Melissa!" The command came the second time with an impatient, impressive tone.
I sobbed, gently wiped my tears, yet broke down in heavy tears again. I blinked to fight back more tears from trickling.
Before we could advance to the door, the expensive glass door sensed us and opened on its own. I was soon staring at heavy decoration at the warm reception, with intercontinental dishes, and everyone gorgeously dressed with toothy smiles.
I paused and broke down in uncontrollable tears.