Page 84 of Guarded By the Phantom

He’s gone. They don’t know where he is.

I was completely still, barely breathing as I stared into her eyes in the mirror. Was it a trick? It had to be. Otherwise, why would she tell me? Why would she reveal her only means of controlling me was gone? I didn’t understand.

She patted my shoulders and looked up at my face with a wide grin. I smiled back on instinct, but my heart raced, my thoughts whirring frantically.

Could it be true?

If Phantom left, her assassins couldn’t get him. He was safe no matter what I did. And it meant… it meant…

I could say no.

Of course, with him gone, I had no one to protect me. My mother would likely make good on her threats and have me committed. That thought failed to make me afraid, though. I’d gone through so much pain and heartbreak, it suddenly didn’t matter what happened to me next. Being locked up in a mental institution couldn’t be as bad as marrying Adonis when I was in love with Phantom.

“It’s time. Let’s get you to the altar, my diamond.”

It hit me, then. I would have doneanythingto have that approval from my mother even just a few months ago. Now that I got it, it felt like ashes in my chest, because I was dead. It took killing off everything that wasmeto become the perfect daughter she’d always wanted. And for what? So I could die even more, killing off more parts of myself to please the husband I didn’t even want?

I’d rather get locked up.

As we walked slowly out of the suite to meet my father waiting for me in front of the church, my mind kept whirring, comparing the two futures that stood before me. In one, I was locked up,subdued with meds, my will and soul broken apart by cruel doctors who only cared about money.

But the other future was worse. I could imagine with perfect clarity becoming someone like my mother. If I lived my life alongside a man I hated, bearing him children I didn’t want, would I still be me? No, I wouldn’t. I would hate every day of that life, and I would probably hate my children, too—just like she hated me.

I finally understood her now that my future unrolled with perfect clarity, all smoke and mirrors falling away. She’d been forced to make this choice, too. She married my father out of duty and resented him every day for it. Then she resented me for not being born a boy, or maybe simply for being born at all.

If I married Adonis right now, I would have children. I’d either hate them or watch them grow up into monsters, since I would be powerless to make any meaningful decisions in their upbringing.

As I took my father’s arm and the music started to play, I walked slowly up to that altar that might as well have been the electric chair. Whatever I chose, it would be death for my soul, but I knew I preferred one death over the other.

Adonis looked perfect in a black suit, doing his name justice. I gave him a smile, too, as the pastor began to speak. I was vaguely aware of my surroundings, the church smelling heavily of flowers, the few hundred guests crowding the pews, the cameras quietly clicking in the background. It was a society wedding, the best our families could throw in two weeks.

It felt like a dream. My head swam, my fingers numb where Adonis held my hand. He said his “I do” with a perfect, white-toothed smile, the ruby glittering in his canine. Nausea swelled in my belly. The pastor spoke to me. Then there was silence.

Adonis watched me expectantly, his smile turning a bit rabid when I didn’t speak. Someone coughed in the back of the church. Something rustled. A camera clicked.

Slowly, making the moment stretch to bursting, I turned just enough to see my mother sitting in the first pew. She smiled wolfishly, delicately inclining her head to the side. I looked at the man sitting next to her.

Grayish skin, bald head, and eyes, eyes that glowed orange. I gasped, but his will already tumbled through my synapses, taking root deep in my brain.

Smile. Say “I do”. Smile. Say “I do”. Smile.

I felt his surprise when I didn’t immediately obey. My body was liquid, falling away as the world narrowed to me and him, wrestling in my mind. I felt his shock, his grudging admiration, then his resolve. My lips parted to speak, and I fought desperately, grabbing onto my dwindling will.

No,I pleaded.Don’t make me.

He pressed at my resistance, crushing it like it was paper.

Smile. Say “I do”.

I opened my mouth again, making a loud, grunting noise to keep the words from falling out. More rustling drifted to me, some whispers, frantic camera clicking. But the fight wasn’t over.

Pain enveloped my brain, an invisible force squeezing it from all sides. I remembered flashes of what I learned,eye contact, know what you want, weak-willed.None of it helped me as I struggled, the pain blinding me until I wanted to cry, fall to my knees, or curse, but I could do none of those things. He held my body rigid, controlling all of me save for my voice.

You’re weak, he whispered, his voice reverberating ominously in my skull. It sounded authoritarian and absolute.You don’t know what you want. I know better. You can’t doanything right. You can’t ever make the right choice. I choose for you. Say “I do.”

I felt my mouth form the words, but my throat tightened as I bid for control.No, I chanted.I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to.

Yes, you do, he hissed, his presence like a constrictor snake wrapped tightly around my mind.You want what I tell you to want. You say what I tell you to say. Be a good girl and do what I tell you!

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