by R. J. Lewis
The only thing keeping me going was the champagne Sonja kept topping into our glasses, easing my nerves by drowning me in alcohol. To be fair, it was working.
“Try to look like you’re not going to your execution,” Sonja whispered in my ear. “There couldn’t be a more miserable bride.”
“It’s normal to have cold feet,” the photographer piped in, her eyes warm. “Your life feels like it’s ending. No more dudes to bang. No more nights out with the ladies without letting your other half know. But think of what you’re getting. You wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t love him, right?”
Sonja rolled her eyes and I just blankly stared at the woman as she took more pictures of my dead face. “Refill,” I directed Sonja, shaking my empty glass at her.
“Here, let me,” the photographer insisted, taking the glass from my hand. Sonja didn’t hesitate. She passed hers along too and we waited. Melancholy hung in the air between us.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sonja said quietly, looking my dress over. “I remember all the times we talked about what our weddings would be like when we were kids. When we didn’t know any better. Feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Didn’t I want a banana wedding cake?” I mused, smirking.
Sonja nodded, solemnly. “You said some old man called you a little monkey once, and that was what started it all. You wanted real bananas bordering a cake with a monkey bride and groom centrepiece.”
“I loved the animal kingdom.”
“It was disturbing.”
We laughed, even though tears sprang to our eyes. What a time to remember. Us as innocent little girls, completely unaware our world of money and privilege was funded by our mobster fathers who dabbled in all things illegal. At first, it had all felt like a dream come true. Taken in by a man who saved me from the tunnel, from Bogeyman, only to be locked away like a princess in a tower.
I shuddered at the memories. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Other times it felt as though it happened yesterday.
The photographer returned with our glasses, and we didn’t hesitate to down them, exchanging sad glances in the process. Sonja squirmed just then and whispered, “Are you scared about what comes after?”
“After we leave this hotel room, or after the ceremony?”
She wouldn’t meet my eye. “After the ceremony.”
I swallowed, quavering a bit. “You mean the consummation.”
She nodded once, barely muttering, “Yeah. Do you…Do you think it’s going to hurt?”
My voice was dry. “Has it ever not?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either. I just know I’m not someone’s plaything.”
“You’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she observed.
“Yeah, I’m thinking about it,” I answered, truthfully. “I’m thinking how I’ll fight back. Thinking how the only way he’ll keep me still is with that knife inside me.”
Her eyes widened in horror as she finally looked up at me. She was speechless. I clenched my teeth, fighting back the burn behind my eyes. I was so angry, but it was fuel to me, this anger. It kept me upright. Kept me fighting back the inevitable.
The consummation was weighing heavy on my mind. The fear was like a noose. Every moment we were drawing nearer, I imagined that rope around my neck tightening. It was getting harder to breathe.
“He made sure I was still in one piece.” I scoffed, remembering. “Had the doctor looking inside me to confirm I’m a…” I ground my teeth harder, feeling every inch of me burn with rage and humiliation. “Who does that, Sonja? Who the fuck does that?”
Sonja shuddered. “He wanted you to feel cheap, Liv.”
Yeah, I felt it alright. All because I didn’t gush over him, or treat him like a prize. He had expected some floozy, like some of the other girls in our world, to bend over backwards to please him. He thought he was hot shit, but all I saw was a man who was reaping his father’s rewards and pretending he earned them. There was nothing respectable about that, and my father knew it too, but, as I liked to remind myself, a deal is a deal.
When our ride arrived, reality was harder to face than ever. My feet felt like cement blocks. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stand by the window one last time and watch the people move, but there was no time.
Right before we left, I stood in front of the mirror a final time and raked my eyes over every inch of my body. I couldn’t help but feel like my life was over.
And the sad part was, I didn’t think it had ever begun in the first place.
“I can’t breathe,” I told Sonja on the limo ride to the chapel. The world felt heavy to me, and my stomach twisted in nausea. Too much champagne on an empty stomach. I was going to be a drunk bride walking down the aisle.
Dolled up in a short, pink bridesmaid dress, she gave my knee a squeeze. “I know how you feel, Liv. You can do this.”
“No, I mean I literally can’t breathe.” I squirmed in my seat, my hand pressed against the corset top where my heart was.
She frowned. “It fit like a glove when you wore it last week.”
“A lot can happen in a week.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’ve had a lot of comfort food between then and now.”
“Why?”
I gave her a pointed look. “I’m marrying a psychopath, Sonja. I thought that warranted puff-pastries, don’t you think?”
She cracked a smile tinged with sadness. “You never know. He might not be so bad, Liv. Some of these men have a soft spot.”
Some being the relative word. I doubted a man who wanted to stick the handle end of his knife inside me was part of that minority.
“He broke the hotel door down,” I reminded her, raising my brows.
“Maybe he was eager to see you.” From her expression, I knew she could taste the bullshit in her words.
I laughed sardonically. “Eager to see his gift, and we know how men treat their women in this world.”
Well, there were two ways they treated their women as far as I knew.
One, like used tissue.
Two, like trophies.
And was there really any difference between those two?
“Liv, did he really mean the thing about the blade?” she then asked, her voice going high with worry.
“What sort of joke would that be if he didn’t mean it?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, god.”
“He doesn’t scare me,” I added quickly, because I could see the concern in her. We grew up together in very similar upbringings. Boarding school, body guards, all the works, with the only difference being her father cared for her. She took that for granted sometimes.
Her brown eyes turned glassy. “Do you mean that?”
“I do. He’s a slimy bastard inheriting his dead father’s seat at the table. Just another Italian counterpart who sends his men to do his dirty work. If we’re lucky, he’ll be dead within a few years, just like all the other young dicks trying hard to prove something to themselves. All I have to do is survive this.”
“Won’t you be passed along to someone else if he dies?”
Her words chilled me, but I let out a controlled breath. “Not if I…” I paused, not wanting to finish that thought. I glanced out the window instead, and fought the dread climbing up my throat, threatening to choke me. I finished that thought in my head, only my mind to tell me what I didn’t want to say out loud.
Not if I had a baby.
I’d be protected if I had a child to inherit the seat one day.
Our world may have been layered in secrecy, but the power was controlled by a very simple familial hierarchy that extended to other associated families. Every faction, or family, had a seat at the table so long as business was conducted peacefully and fairly. Tony’s faction was waning in strength since the loss of his father. Tony was power hungry, and he’d made impulsive decisions that cost him a lot of business, or so I heard. He was losing respect fast, henc
e his rush for marriage. He had hardly waited for me to finish my business degree when he’d pushed for it. Solidifying his position with my father was a necessity he couldn’t afford to lose, and my father had no choice but to agree. Our union was agreed upon years ago when the alliances were at the height of the game. When loyalty mattered and snitches paid the cost. And like any good businessman, once you give your word you must stick to it. I felt like cattle, sold and rustled along for slaughter, but in place of the hot ironing, my brand was going to be in the form of a wedding ring.
But no matter how desperate I currently felt, the thought of using a child like a safety net made me ill. I could hardly imagine the journey I would have to undertake just getting there; I’d sooner die than let Tony’s slimy fingers touch me consensually.
Who would I contact for those magic pills?
A wave of cloudiness washed over me, and my head went light. I shook my head to clear it.
“We had too much to drink,” Sonja remarked, her blinks slowing.
Had we? I had downed two glasses all up over a period of two hours. Was I really that much of a lightweight?
“At this rate, they’ll be carrying me down the aisle,” I muttered.
She went quiet, holding a hand to her head as she gazed unfocusedly out the window. I leaned back and let my head rest against her shoulder.
“We have each other,” she comforted me, softly. “No matter what, there is us and that’s what’s worth sticking around for.”
I hummed in agreeance. Her hand searched mine, and we squeezed each other tight. I glimpsed down at our manicured nails, getting lost in them as they blurred and doubled. I felt relaxed. Too relaxed, actually. Like I was about to fall asleep.
It didn’t feel right.
I shook my head again, trying to get rid of the cloudiness.
“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” Sonja groaned. “Like I haven’t slept in days.”
I tried to nod, but even that took effort. “I feel that way too.”
“We shouldn’t have had anything to drink.”
I was too tired to respond. I rested my eyes shut for a few seconds at a time. Maybe a power nap was in order.
When the car finally began to slow down, I forced my face up and glanced out the window through heavy eyelids.
“We’re here,” I whispered, just as confusion hit me like a lightning bolt when my eyes landed on the grey-stone chapel.
It was empty. Not a soul lurked by. The decorative flowers I’d reluctantly chosen were there, but the heavy grey doors were shut. Why was it shut? The confusion swirled within me slowly, growing stronger as I began to process this. There should have been over a hundred-people present, bustling through the chapel, pretending to give a shit. Expensive cars should have been parked up and down the street. Instead, it looked absolutely deserted. It was like there was no wedding taking place at all.
Hope emerged in me suddenly and fiercely. Shaking, I looked at Sonja, my body instantly alight with purpose. Her eyes were shut, her lips parted as she took quiet, slow breaths.
“Sonja.” I tugged on her hand. “Wake up. You have to see this.”
But she wasn’t waking up. I dropped her hand and leaned over her body, pressing my face against the glass, trying to make sense of this. Had my father stopped the wedding? He must have. Why else was the chapel vacant?
Had my father grown a conscience?
No, no, don’t be stupid, Liv! That didn’t make any sense. This was my father. The businessman. The unfeeling man I’d come to know over my 16 years of life with him.
Now I wasn’t so hopeful anymore. Pulling back, I scooted to the other side of the limo and opened the door. The hot air hit me, instantly making my head feel even lighter. I stumbled out of the limo on shaky legs and took cautious steps toward the chapel. I made it five steps when the fog hit again, and my legs buckled. One second I was standing, the next I’d fallen forward, landing on my elbows and knees. Pain shot through me, but dulled quickly in the wake of the overwhelming sleepiness. I tried to pick my head up, but I couldn’t. Instead, I found myself relaxing in the middle of the road, those blinks getting slower, my head growing heaver.
What the hell was happening?
My mind screamed its last coherent words to me. Look at Sonja! Look what’s happening to you! What do you think is happening?
Terror washed over me.
We’d been drugged.
I shut my eyes, the darkness shrouding me. My mind nearly wandered off right then and there when I heard sudden shouts all around me. I opened my eyes, my heart rate spiking at the sound of a gunshot piercing the air. It sounded too close for comfort. I scrambled, trying to get to my feet, but my legs were paralysed in place. The shouts drew closer, accompanied by a series of footsteps. Arms wrapped around me. I was conscious enough to know I was being lifted into the air and brought to another car. I couldn’t fight it. I was a limp piece of meat. I opened my eyes one more time to see one of Tony’s bodyguards bleeding out beside the wheel of the limo.
A second later, I was out.
Four
Liv
An earth-shattering jolt woke me. It was mostly dark when my eyes flew open. My body lay on a cold, harsh carpet. I knew I was in a plane. I recognized that turbulence from countless plane trips, but this one felt particularly strong. I could smell gasoline in my nostrils and hear the engine roaring beneath me. This had to be a small plane.
My head ached with each breath. I was in pain everywhere. I felt it in my arms and knees, but worse than that, I felt the coldness of the night air seep through me. It was in my bones, and my body couldn’t stop shaking.
The taste of blood flooded my mouth. I tried to swallow, but my mouth shut against something foreign; cloth, seeped in gasoline, lodged in my mouth as if to stop me from screaming. By reflex, I made to move my hands to it and couldn’t. They were bound behind my back and sprained.
Oh, god.
Oh, god.
An inaudible whimper escaped me. I took gulping breaths, but my head went heavy with panic. I tried to move my legs, but I couldn’t even feel them. It was like they weren’t even there.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
What the hell was happening?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall my last conscious moments. But all I could remember was Tony in the hotel room and being in the limo with Sonja…Oh, God. Sonja. She’d fallen asleep, and then I’d stepped out, but I hardly made it five steps before collapsing.
Images flooded me. Tiny fragments that still didn’t make sense. The chapel had been deserted. And there’d been gunshots. The driver – one of Tony’s men – had fallen to the ground, drowning in his own blood.
Oh, god.
I could feel whatever drug still coursing through my system, preventing my thoughts from clearing. I was still groggy, but the fear was multiplying tenfold as I attempted to make sense of this.
The worst-case scenario sprang to mind, chilling me to the core. I had been taken, maybe by an enemy of my father’s. They’d either hold me for ransom, or they’d use me for revenge against him over one of the countless abominable acts he’d committed.
I could be raped.
Could be tortured.
I could be killed instantly, or slowly, and sent piece by piece to him in small little packages.
With every second I imagined the worst that could happen to me, and I shook harder and harder. My stomach churned violently, and I made to puke, but the acid rose to my throat and burned there instead. This was my nightmare. It was happening, and there wasn’t anything I could do to change it.
Dear god, I was going to die.
Unfamiliar voices spoke out from nearby. I froze, straining to listen. The words were indistinguishable, drowned mostly by the roar of the engine. Whatever words did reach me weren’t in English. It wasn’t in German either. No, these were people I was completely unfamiliar with.
Tears burned my vision. They escaped me endlessly. I sobbed, my body convul
sing. I’d been in a pit of despair just a little while ago. I’d been in a protective jail since the tunnel, but I’d rather that imprisonment than whatever awaited me.
I wasn’t going to be strong enough to survive this.
Thankfully, the combination of fear and the heavy drug in my blood worked through me. I reluctantly closed my eyes to the darkness.
I was less cloudy the next time I came around. And less dramatic too. I didn’t know how long I’d been out for, but this time it wasn’t dark or cold. Sunlight was pouring in, heating up the floor of the plane. I looked out the tiny window in front of me, blinking rapidly at the blinding blue skies. I was calmer now. Saner too. My body wasn’t paralysed. I could feel my legs and toes. The side of my face I’d been sleeping on was soaked with sweat. The same side of my body was numb and sore. My mouth, still filled with the foul-tasting cloth, ached. As horrible as this was, at least I could feel my body.
Slowly, I took in my surroundings. The plane was old. The seats in front of me were scratched to shit, one torn open. I glimpsed the metal screw holes in the floor where they’d ripped the backseats off. They were rusted, like the backseats hadn’t been in for a very long time.
This whole set up screamed a transport plane. To transport what though? Daughters of mob bosses? Unlikely.
My neck ached as I forced my head up to continue looking. There wasn’t much to see. The space had been gutted and was empty except for me. The men weren’t visible from where I lay, but the seats shuddered with their movement. I made sure to be still. I didn’t want them to see me awake. I didn’t know what they’d do if they knew.
My wedding dress was surprisingly still in one piece. Maybe I expected them to do something to it, or me. Thankfully, I’d been untouched in that way. The puffy bottom layers helped me survive the night of cold, but now I was boiling. I tried to spread my legs apart, but the rope only served to dig into my flesh. I struggled with the rope around my arms, but the same outcome ensued. I was fucked. Royally. And in so much discomfort, I went dizzy from the struggle. Collapsing back down, I had only my thoughts to work with.