Page 95 of Whispers of Fire

How he took my voice and my life choices like I was a chess piece in his twisted game.

No love, no warmth, nothing.

As we enter the chapel, the air crackles around me, the scent of lilies and incense swirling around me in a dizzying haze. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat a reminder of the charade I'm about to perform. If Vox were here, he would notice my empty looking gaze from the get-go, but he is not here.

I’ll have to pick up the broken part of myself without him.

The Chapel is packed. All the members of the community are here today to witness their leader getting married. I have to think of the taste of Vox’s Oreos to stop myself from spilling my guts out on the carpet they laid out for the occasion.

All eyes are on me and my father as we progress down the aisle. I don’t feel like myself, wearing an awfully large white dress, hiding my body from head to toe, my blonde hair styled with white ribbon and my feet bare.

No bride can wear shoes on her wedding day. It’s a way of showing humility.

God, this is so stupid.

I prefer myself much more in black gear on Vox’s motorcycle, not this strange fake innocent bride I’m cosplaying. But I keep my focus downward, my gaze fixed on the floor, my steps measured. Beside me, my father's grip tightens on my arm, his silent command to behave echoing in the pressure of his touch. There’s no affection in the way he is holding me.

This isn’t love, this is control.

As we reach the altar, I steal a glance at the man who awaits me there, trying to keep my head down in front of my captor. His eyes gleam with anticipation, his smile sending a cold shiver down my spine.

I don’t know if there is such a thing as the prize for the creepiest man alive, but he would definitely win it. His large white gown matches mine, his feet held in brown sandals, the corner of his mouth carrying a small white paste of dried saliva.

Ew. Ew. Eww.

But that’s not the worst. The most awful part is how he’s looking at me. Eyes wide, his tongue slipping out to wet his lower lip like I’m a dessert he’s about the feast on. My father gives him my hand roughly, making my blood run cold as the Sheperd’s skin touches mine.

You can do this.

Somehow, I’m glad he’s acting this way. It means he doesn’t suspect that I’m about to rewrite the rules of his book. But still, I can’t help but sense that this is the lowest moment of my life.

My very own rock bottom.

“To cleanse our sins…” the Shepherd almost yells, excitement in his high-pitched voice.

“…We must obey,” answers the crowd. I lift my head slightly to the left of the room, noticing my father joining my mother on the first bench. Jezebel and Greta’s families are a few rows from me, smiling to their ears, their hair braided with their brown dresses on.

They are happy for me.

If only they knew what their fathers did. I don’t even know if it would be enough for them to run away. I hope I’ll find a way to tell them one day, and that they will forgive me for not taking the time to explain why I left today.

“Aaah, what a beautiful day.” The Shepherd spreads his arm like a messiah. “Today, your leader is uniting himself with the womb who will carry the children of the Faithful Lambs and spread the word.”

Oohs and aws echo from the rows in front of us, some women bouncing back and forth like a spirit has taken control of their bodies. I lower my sight, unable to face the grins of the members. It’s wrong, so wrong I can’t stand it.

A womb. To them, that’s all I am.

Not to Vox, not to him. He sees me. I know he does.

But if he does, why is he not here?

If only they knew how the silent girl became a strong woman thanks to a dark knight. They would lose their minds over it.

I’m afraid I’m gonna pass out if I let my emotion swallow me whole, so I focus on my fingers, mentally driving my eyes around their shapes, inhaling and exhaling deeply each time I’m done with a finger.

It helps.

A bit.

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