Twisted Dreams

Chapter 8

      I open my eyes to see Richard. He stood in the same dark suit I met him in, sporting a handsome blue tie to match his eyes, but it was difficult to see him through my veil. Wait, veil?

      I look down to find myself in a long white dress, with a lacy bodice tied tightly around my thin waist - my mother's wedding dress. Through the veil, I see my hands wrapped tightly around a bouquet of bright orange marigolds, their color a bright contrast to my gown. Their sickly sweet scent reaches up to tickle my nose, and I'm reminded again of why they're my least favorite flower.

      I look away from the flowers to find myself in a church, marigold petals covering the aisle, and my friends and family filling the pews, saccharine smiles on every doting face. Elsie sits up front looking satisfied in a pair of trousers, and completely unaffected by this train of events.

      She gives me a thumbs-up as I direct my attention back to my least favorite person. Richard grins wide, and his eyes remain glued to my face and figure in a sort of trance.

      "Shall we begin?" he questions.

       Before I can ask what, a priest appears by my side - my father. He stands holding the Bible, his page marked by a miniature picture of my mother. He looks up at me and grins as wide as Richard, except there are tears in his eyes that have already spilled over and drip along the pages and my mother's face.

      "What the hell?" I try to say, but my mouth won't move. My mouth just remains plastered in a matching grin to Richards, and the only expression I am capable of making is creasing my brow in anger and confusion.

      My father adjusts his Bible and begins reading a random verse about love when Richard interrupts.

      "Can't we just skip to the vows?" he questions with his grin just as wide as before, but his eyes squinting in malice.

      "Yes, yes of course," my father responds, a couple tears dripping with the movement.

      "Do you, Vivianna, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love, honor and obey, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live?" my father asks, staring at me in desperation.

      I imagine myself shaking my head and yelling "no" in every form possible. Instead, I feel my head nodding against my will, and my smile pulling unimaginably tighter.

      "And do you, Richard, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife,  to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

      "Yes!" Richard responds, giddy.

      "I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride," my father finishes as the tears pour harder.

      I can feel my own tears forming in my eyes, incapable of spilling over. Richard turns to me with joy in his eyes, and he reaches out to pull my veil over my head. 

      I try and try to no avail to move - my body, my face, even a little twitch of my finger would help right about now - but I can't.

      I just stand helpless as Richard steps toe to toe with me, and reaches out his sweaty hand to cradle my face. He moves in for the kiss, and I manage to close my eyes, preparing for the worst.

      I sit up in bed, my hair plastered to my face, and my heart pounding as I finally find movement in my limbs again. I close my eyes and fall back against the bed, relishing in the freedom from that nightmare, before I realize that this is not my bed.

      I dart out of the bed quickly, and I take in my surroundings. I'm in a small room with concrete floors and old plastered walls whose paint is peeling in thick strips. I take small breaths in and out, and hold back a shriek as I see another rickety twin-sized bed, this one still occupied. 

      It's a girl, and she's still sleeping, her mousy blonde hair strewn around her sleeping form. She's wearing a hideous brown dress, half hidden by her thin covers that are barely long enough to cover her toes. I glance down to find myself in the same dress as the girl's - loose and ill-fitting, with the rough fabric hanging on my frame. A different dress than the one I went to sleep in.

      I shudder at the thought of someone undressing me without my consent, and quickly move past that thought as I catch sight of the door. I rush over in desperation, but the knob won't turn. I try rattling it loudly for a couple of seconds before I remember the other occupant in the room.

      She shifts in her sleep, and I freeze. She doesn't appear threatening, but I have no idea what or who to trust anymore.

      What happened last night? I think to myself, as the night from before comes back to me. I remember the men taking me from my room. The way my father stood, unwilling to even look at me as his oldest daughter was taken. I remember Richard, his proposal, and my reaction.

      I feel sick and my legs start to wobble as I try to piece together what happened. I said no to his proposal, but what about afterwards? Who were those men, and where am I?

      I look up to find two wide blue eyes staring at me. I startle, and jump backwards running into the wall, suddenly becoming aware of my lack of options to defend myself.

      "Hello," she whispered, unaware of, or unbothered by my panicked state.

      "Wh-where am I? What's going on? Who are you?" I questioned her, fear seeping into my voice.

      "That's a lot of questions," she remarked, not bothering to answer any of them.

      "Where am I? Can you please tell me what's going on?" I demanded, starting to get angry at this confusing chain of events.

      "I'm Amelia, and you're my new roommate," she responded, smiling a sad smile, "And you're at Whitcomb's Psychiatric Hospital."