Just a note – these stories may be a little too dark for some people, so if my last one was too much, it might be best to skip these. Having said that, I don’t think this one is particularly graphic.
She half smiled, remembering the delicious anticipation just a handful of months ago, as she flicked through bridal magazines, imagining herself in each one of those gorgeous dresses. She had let herself imagine more than that – imagining her wedding night, imagining his eyes – those eyes! – roving over her body as she started to undress for him. Imagining his hot breath against her hair as his arms encircled her body to begin the slow, agonizing process of undoing the long line of intricate pearl buttons down the back of her dress. She had been in love with the thought of him slowly tugging the dress down, sliding it over her breasts and past her hips. Imagining what would happen after.
But now, tonight. Their wedding night. How had it descended so quickly into this madness? He’d made her feel like nothing more than a possession the moment they were alone. There was no dreamy reveal of her precious skin, no romance, nothing at all like what she’d expected.
Instead, he had grabbed her by the shoulders, and stared into her with a face she hardly recognised. So harsh, so hard, so angry. She closed her eyes and hung her head, remembering how he’d spun her around and pushed her roughly over the back of the plush chair that she had admired earlier. Holding her down, he pulled up her skirt and tore his way through to her flesh. She was sickened at the memory and allowed herself to cry quietly at what she had lost this night. Why? What had happened?
Part of her wondered if he was consumed by some sudden sickness, but she realized that deep down she had always known that something dark was simmering just below the surface. Some deep-rooted anger towards her. In a way, she had secretly enjoyed the danger of it. She had always been drawn to men with a dark side, those who seemed on the edge of something. It was thrilling to be with them, never knowing what might happen. But she had never been the focus of anyone’s darkness. Not until now. She hadn’t really seen it coming. Not at all.
She took a deep breath and settled herself. A resolve washed over her, darkening her eyes and thinning out her lips. Nobody does this to me, she thought. Her mouth opened, lips trembling, and she whispered “no-one”. She stood, her hands in shaking fists and shouted “no-one”, the sound of her harsh voice echoing in the empty room.
She took another deep breath and held it until the shaking stopped, willing the tears to dry up. Her breath steadied and she pushed her shoulders back, held her head up high.
She knew where she could find him.
She would end this madness.
She would end him.
This is my second piece for Julie’s Dapper Rabbit series. It’s getting dark, which is how I like it. Have you been over to see Julie’s photos?
PS a little about the photo. This is a decaying rose which I shot and posted about before here. For a bride, roses are often the flower of choice, it’s certainly considered the most romantic of flowers. What better way to represent the death of love than with a romantic rose in decay? I love a little poetry in pictures.