I am now standing in front of doors that will lead me to my miserable destiny. A white dress I did not care to observe the design of has been put on me, flowers has been shoved into my hands and blonde hair, as though a freaking blushing bride who was all too eager to throw away her normal happy life and get married to that devil standing behind this door. This overdress I never paid for, this makeup I did not request to have applied; everything even air pricks all over my body making me bleed inside the eyes.
Leo doesn't know that am here. Mum neither does she know that. I close my eyes, my thoughts taking in all those whom I care. In my memory are those fellows who held gun on my mothers' and sisters' heads back in the hospital.
"Mom." I breathe, forcing a shuddering sob back into my throat. Later when I had gone inside the room, Mom had woken up for a moment. But as I was about to call for a doctor, she held my hand and stopped me. She stroked my hair. And the first words that came out of her dried pale lips were.
"I'm sorry."
When I tried to brush her off on this one, she cut me off placing hand on the side of my face, saying what she always used to say to me, "Be strong, my daughter. She patted my cheeks.".
There was a slight change in her eyes before she continued. "The one responsible for your father's death. she spoke, though I knew how difficult must it be for her to considering the condition she was in. But it still had my attention, because it was about my Dad. She whispered something.
I thought she was trying to tell me a name, so I leaned my ear closer to her.
".Smi-Smith." she had rasped out. After that her hand fell limp and dropped away from my face. The doctors tried to bring her back but she had gone into a coma.
"Smith.?" I had whispered out unknowingly.
The man with the wooden cane, Griswald Smith, was standing behind me while I watched my Mom suffer for her life. He held another smirk as if he had heard everything that Mom said, and as if he already knew everything. "I assume you just found out who is responsible for your father's death?"
My breath hitched. Elvish smith.?
"There's no need to think about it," he had said. "It's a perfect way to get revenge for your dead father. You just have to do as I say. I had turned to him with a frown at this. "It's a win-win situation, don't you think so? I need him out of my way, you want your father's revenge, let us join hands. This repulsive grin had appeared again on his face as his voice dropped low. "I will also take care of your Mom and brother in return till the deed is finished."
Of course, it was a hidden threat. An ominous message cautioning me that my Mom and brother's thread of life line is in his hands until I complete his task. And of course the task included me killing my newly wedded husband
I open my eyes, clutching the bouquet tight in my hands, hoping for the thorns of the roses to pierce my palms as the doors open, laying the path for me. The man behind me pushes me forward with the hard end of the hilt of the gun he was carrying. In that split second, I hoped to fall, for something to happen to me or my dress or any sudden occurrence that could get me out of this wedding. But nothing happened. I glance up to find myself standing inside a huge hall filled with a handful of people. Every eye is on me. And they're not looking at me with the same look that is cast on the bride as she is to be wed. They are looking at me as a worthless trespasser unwanted who's entering their world. Their eyes filled with scorn. And those who do not hold scorn upon their faces are either indifferent or look at me with pity. Pity since they will not save me too from this destiny of mine. At least, the least thing is pitying them.
I looked down as I was catching my breath heavily. I could have sworn their eyes were buming me to ash. My stomach churned inside my intestines. I had this dizziness sensation.
"Move," a hiss came in from behind as he spoke through disdain.
I was wronged against my will, but I was still forced to marry. I won't let anyone walk all over my self-respect. Thus, I clench my hands and lift up my chin. All that grit within me I use to carry myself forward with my face up. I may not know anything about this world of crime, but the one thing I learned in my entire life till now is that your self-respect and dignity is your most precious asset.
My mind turns numb as I walk down the aisle. Behind me, there are two men whom I saw at the hospital, whom I know carry guns with them to shoot me dead in case I did anything that didn't suit the agreed upon plan.
There is a ringing in my ear, cold pricking my skin even in the heated atmosphere of the chapel when I come to a standstill before the altar. I turn to my groom.
Dreading every second of it. Wanting to escape. But no help comes.
I look up, through the veil, at the man to whom I'm to be wed. Inky black hair which falls on his brows, red eyes with a ring of black color in them. Elvish smith.
He stands there with his face turned away from me, as if he couldn't care less about it all. I turn my head. Of course, he wouldn't care if he were married to a worthless trespasser He can just erase me from his life whenever he likes. What good is a naive wife to a mafia king.
I observe as he casts a glance at his watch. His hand scratches lightly above his brow. He seems to have been held against his will here. As they extract the rings, he leans back and whispers something to his men
I wonder how long will it take for him to figure out what my real goal of marrying him is. Or probably he has already figured it out and was whispering to his men how they should kill me.
The rings are presented before us and I take a deep inhale as I see him pick it up. It all passes in a blur for me. I don't grasp when the officiant has started saying vows; he repeats after him, saying "I do." and wrapping up the vows like a task. He draws his left hand toward him; I jump. "I give this ring as a sign of my love," he mummers out indifferently.
It takes all of me not to pull back when he forces the ring on my finger.
My hands won't stop shaking as the officiant continues on. I grab the ring with trembling hands. But as I go to offer him my hand, my gaze drifts down to his clothing.
He's in a three-piece suit, but underneath the blood-red stains seep out across the pure white of his white shirt. There are the cuffs at his wrist. The red stains the clean white. It's blood.
It feels like someone chopped up the air from my lungs. I feel choking. Sweat starts beading on my forehead. My lips tremble.
No. I shut my eyes close. No. Not now. If I show my weakness now in front of all these people, they'll surely know how to take advantage of me. I won't let it happen. I have to be strong. Just like Mom always wanted.
I open my eyes, keeping my gaze up to avoid looking at the awful stains. I must have already let the tears show in my eyes because I could feel one trying to fall from my lashes and feel him staring at my face.
"Do me a favor and don't cry," he speaks a low warning such that only I could hear. His voice was sharp and cold. The blood red eyes narrowing at me. "They'll kill you."
I swallow hard, repressing the fire that's burning my eyes and my stomach. I knew there were people in front of me, behind me, who would not think twice about pointing their guns at me if I were to say or do something against this wedding.
"I do," I say once the officiant is done with the vows. My own voice not recognizable to me. I put the ring on his finger. Only one thought going over my head again and again: that my life will never be the same. My glistening red eyes lift up to the man in front of me, the monster, my husband. And now. the master of my fate.
He lifts the veil from my face and pulls me closer, letting our lips meet in a seal of marriage. An unwanted and loveless, but binding marriage. An irrevocable promise.