Looking at the bloodshot, dully brown eyes looking at me hungrily, I escape into my mind, robotically repeating the words the priest had practiced with me earlier. My chest aches, giving these hollow vows to a man who could never be worthy of themwhile I know the man who is must be going crazy searching for me.
My family kept me from almost every form of communication with the outside world, only letting me post the pictures on Instagram to give Carmen the ammunition to brag in her social clubs. I couldn't even text Bel—due to herbadinfluence and enabling my sin.Ihad to just hope thatshe or one of her boys would stumble across it.The most important person for the last decade of my life, and they had her reduced to nothing more than a relic of my sordid past, like she isn't the person who stepped into the role of being my only family when none of these assholes could.
If I know Bel, and obviously I do, she has to be spiraling.I can only hope that Fritz and Cas aredoing their jobs of keeping her in line whilealsoensuring Eamon knows thatsomethingis going on.There was no point in searching for his social media, because the big dumb animal has none. And if I were caught privately messaging another man... I shudder to think of the kinds of rituals I might be subjected to for my wedding ceremony.
"And by the power invested in me by the one and only, the light and the way, the lord God Christ, I pronounce you husband and wife," the pastor finally says.
Silas reaches for me, one hand clawing into my neck while the other wraps around my waist, his sweaty—even in this weather— palms keeping me captivewhilehis greasy lips press against mine.
The crowd around us cheers, somewhere between 50-100 unfamiliar voices radiating around me as I finally fulfill my psycho grandfather's wishes.Just a little bit longer now.
I know what awaits me.
Over the last few weeks, they've gently broached the topic of my responsibility of bearing children.I'm not on birth control,I've told them— which is true.I have no need for it—alsotrue, just not for the reason they believe.
Silas's side of the aisle jeers, their objectification clear with every passing second, while my side continues the charade.If I weren't locked into the character I need to play, I'd be screaming at every motherfucker in this crowd that dares speak about me likemy duty is tobe the sexual receptacle for the scrawny piece of shit in front of me.But, as it is, I'mstuck being passive for justalittle whilelonger.
Walking back down the aisle with a false grin anda ridiculously largebouquet in hand, I stop, giving Carmen a light kiss on the cheek, followed by my father as I continue on down the aisle, my whole family cheering for the prodigal daughter brought back into the fold and shown the light.
Cousinsand auntsand uncles bestow kisses upon my brow, not expecting me to stay because our honeymoon is several hours travel away, and they'd hate to keep us from consummating our holy nuptials.
A silent groan nearly escapes me when my grandma chastely kisses my brow, blessing me to be fertile and him virile. I gag at the thought of his spend getting anywhere near my body and shake it down, knowing the end of this goddamn charade is coming quickly, whether by Eamon's actions or my own.
The ride into theisolation of the cabinis silent, the rumble of our Volvo beneath us the only sound as we drift deeper into the BFE of the snowy mountains around us.
Thankfully, Silas knows better than tomake conversationwith me, occasionally humming along to the disc stuck in the car. Ihaven't a cluewhat it is, but the same 12 songs play on repeat at least three times before I lose my mind, taking the disc from the drive and throwing it into the back seat, causing him to look at me with an annoyed sneer.
Eamon would have thrown it out the window. He would understand the annoyance that drove me to this point. He'd even laugh about it, revel in the reaction such a silly thing gave me before teasing me and playing something equally obnoxious.
The world passes by us in pitch black, the only color for hours coming from the radio. Every time Silas turns the radio up, I respond by turning it back down, not willing to listen to his fucking EDM nightmare fuel music.
All too soon, we come up on a cabin.
My heart starts pounding behind my ribcage.
I can't guarantee that the other women like me are here, but there'sa crawling in my skin, a coldness within my blood that tells me I'm exactly where I'm meant to be as Silas unloads our bags, trudging through the tightly packed snow towards the building that would be my prison.
Dropping our bags at the front door, he uses his fingerprints on a scanner, and I distantly wonder if the scanner needs blood pumping through those fingers for it to work or if it's a digital print reader only.
He whistles a merry tune as the door opens, and every light in the little cabin comes to life. Nausea fills my stomach as I grab my single suitcase and follow him into the house.
This is what I'm here for, and I can't back down now.Hemight try to play charming, do it right the first timehetakes liberties with my body, but I already know what kind of end greets me in these four walls if Eamon doesn't get the convoluted message I sent him.
Silas places his bags on the tattered brown couch, the leather kicking up dust as he sets his hideous velour suitcases on it. His eyes find mine, and I can only hope they read as impassive and not the bone-deep terror Ireally feel beingtrapped out in the middle of nowhere with this man.
With every step he takes toward me, my instincts beg me to flee. But where would I go? This is the end of the line. Either I die here, in my family's home, surrendering to what they always planned for me, or I fight back and hope this asshole isn't as strong as me.
I wrack my brain, wishing Eamon told me anything about his family, but the name doesn't even register. He must not bevery important, which isexactlywhy they'd set him up with me. My bloodline is vital. His is not. He's just a warm body they know won't be afraid of getting rough with me if I fight back.
"There's no need to make this any harder," hefinallytells me, my fear at his approaching form becoming clear. "This marriage can't be considered real until it's been consummated."
I can't help it. A laugh bubbles out of my throat. "Real?" I ask him, "You have coke and lipstick smeared across your collar. Don't preach to me about ourmarriagebeing real."
"Well, I don't know about you,wife," him using the word makes me nauseous. "but I went to confession just before we shared our vows. I am perfectly pure and ready to make my new bride mine."
Not a single oneof our family members followed us out here to thehoneymooncabin, but I'mnot dumb enough to believe that he doesn't have backup ready to corral me should I fight against his authority as my new husband.
"I'm just really not in the mood," I aim for nonchalance rather than disgust, but I know I've fallen short when his lip starts to curl, his red eyes narrowingat me. "So exhausted after a big day, you know."
