She leads a monthly therapy group for sexual assault and human trafficking survivors, in which she describes her trauma and helps others learn to cope with their own issues. On top of that, she also came back to school, like I did, and the two of us finished with new records in our category. She’s refused to let her parents yank her out of university and keep her holed up in some foreign fortress far away. She’s taken charge of her own life, realizing that if she could survive the experiences she’d had this year, she can probably do just about anything she sets her mind to.
We’ve become fast friends, and that’s why I asked her to be my maid of honor today.
All morning, she’s been by my side, chit-chatting excitedly with my makeup artist, Helene, and my mom, who came all the way from North Carolina to be here today. Of course, my mother has also had to split her time between tending to my bridal concerns and tending to my father’s nerves and emotions, as he is preparing to be the one walking me down the aisle.
Knowing how easily his emotional boat is rocked, I’m sure he’s spent most of the day weeping happy tears. I smile at the thought. I can’t wait to have him link arms with me and guide me down the flower-scattered aisle of this chapel, right into the arms of my prince.
I’m a little antsy because I haven’t been allowed to see Max all day. I know it’s only traditional for the bride to be hidden away from the groom until the ceremony, but I’ve gotten so attached to him that it feels odd not to be sharing every moment of this day with him by my side. Soon, though, we will be united in that most beautiful and sacred of ways, and I’ll never have to walk alone again.
Tears burn in my eyes and I blink them back, not wanting to ruin the perfect makeup job Helene did for me. We’ve really pulled out all the stops for this wedding. It is a small congregation of only our closest friends and family — mostly mine, since Max doesn’t have much by way of family… or friends. Except for one, whom I have invited unbeknownst to Max. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees the person I’ve asked to attend, someone he hasn’t seen in a very long time.
I want so badly to sweep away the musty cobwebs in the dark corners of his life, throw open the windows, and let the sun warm him once again. I am determined to bring joy into his world, show him what it feels like to live freely and happily, away from the tragedy and pain of his past. I cannot go back in time and rid his memory of such terrible events. I don’t have the power to eradicate the debts and strikes against him, and I know he will never truly forget the awful things he has seen and done. His past is his own, and I can’t change it. But his future… that rests in my hands. I am so excited to start this next chapter of our lives together, seeking the same bliss we have found in one another.
Still, I have to admit that I am somewhat grateful for his past, in that it has given us both a newfound strength. Especially for me. I will continue to regard the world around me with wonder and love, but I know now to be cautious. I can embrace life with wide open arms, provided that I have my eyes wide open and watching, as well.
And that is why, underneath the frilly, fragile lace of my wedding dress, there is a little sheathed knife strapped to my garter. I know now how important it is to always be prepared. Sometimes, in the pursuit of beautiful things, ugliness can still follow.
Suddenly, the door behind me creaks open and I don’t immediately turn around, expecting that it’s probably just my mom or Maggie coming back to fawn over my dress or give me an update on how the pre-ceremony is progressing. Maggie, for one, has been sneaking whispered tidbits back to me about how handsome and proud Max looks, how swimmingly he’s getting along with my father. I had been a little concerned about that at first, seeing as my dad is a little bit protective over me, and Max was originally in my life to be an authority figure and therefore, off-limits romantically speaking. And while Max is calm and hard to read, my dad is effervescent, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. But to my relief, they seem to click. Like opposite magnets. I’m elated.
Just as I’m turning around to ask Maggie if it’s almost time to get everybody into the pews for the ceremony, a hand clasps over my mouth, the words dying in my throat.
My eyes go wide as I glance around in horror, trying to figure out who is holding me. I know it can’t be my mother or Maggie, as the person behind me is much taller and broader than either of them, nearly dwarfing me by comparison. I glance up to the mirror and let out a strangled scream of realization.
It’s Will.
His lips are grinning, but there’s a cold, cruel glint in his eyes. He is just as handsome as before, but now I know to associate his attractive features with undeniable evil. He is a wolf in a Prince Charming costume. A villain with a hero’s face.