“Good night, honey. Don’t be a stranger.”
I cut the call, and my heart is cold as I drag myself up the stairs to my bed. I envy a person’s ability to sleep without their demons haunting their nightmares. To sleep is to die, and as the pain of the past stabs me, much like the fighter did his victim earlier, I bleed out inside. Death replacing life in my soul as I come to the realization that I have been dead for quite some time.
CHAPTER 16
TIFFANY
When I wake, the light is a bare sliver through the small window. The house is silent like a grave, and there is a chill in the air.
My head is foggy and my mouth dry, and as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, I cast my eyes on the Bible.
This room feels so familiar because of its simplicity. Below me is a world where simplicity doesn’t exist.
Yesterday was the most intense day of my life, and I really hope today is a quiet one. If every day is like the preceding one, I’m already tired of living, anyway.
I make my way to the small bathroom and enjoy a hot shower for once. That was a luxury the convent kept for special occasions, and I spend a little too long under the powerful jet.
My mind drifts to the guest room downstairs where Mrs. Harrington arranged the clothes that were delivered. I wonder what I will be wearing today?
When I venture back into my room, Mrs. Harrington is waiting with an armful of clothes and a sweet smile.
“Morning, ma’am. Mr. Ravera has selected your outfit, and his instructions are for you to meet him in the dining room for breakfast.”
I glance at the pile of clothes and sigh inside.
“Is he always so controlling?” I ask, despair lacing my words, and she merely smiles. “He is a good man, ma’am.”
I’m already aware she will hear no bad word said about him and sigh inside.
“Tell him I’ll be there when I’m ready.”
“You have twenty minutes. Those were his instructions.”
She leaves with a soft smile of apology, and as I turn my attention to the clothes, I die a little inside.
He has chosen a smart cream shift dress with a matching jacket. Matching ivory leather heels and a bag of makeup. There is a small cream fascinator lying beside a cream leather purse, and it strikes me that I’m staring at my wedding gown.
Of course. The deal. Today we marry and tonight…
It’s suddenly very hot in here, and as my fingers reach for the gorgeous silk lingerie, my heart actually flutters when I imagine what happens when it comes off.
I can’t do this.
I sit on the bed and stare at the offending clothes, wishing I was back in The Order of the Holy Mother of God. In fact, anywhere but here.
I am marrying the beast.
The man with no morals or humanity. He will tear me apart, and I will be the one lying bleeding at his feet. Pregnant with his child and chained to a life of madness. I can’t even escape. He lives inside a fortress, and my only way out of this is to do what he wants and hope he gets bored with me.
Was this what it was like for my mother? Did she run because she had no other choice? I’m aware of how difficult my father was. Am I reliving her life? Will I abandon my child to save myself?
It’s a sobering thought that I push aside immediately it raises its hand. No, I would never abandon my child, and part of mewonders if that was also my sister’s mom’s plan. Their deaths were accidents that don’t really stand up to scrutiny, and I wonder, not for the first time, if it was a little too convenient.
One of the verses from the Bible I studied so hard revisits me and gives me strength when I most need it and I whisper. “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.”
For some reason that gives me strength, and so, with a firm resolve, I pull on the armor and hold God in my heart as I prepare to be betrothed to the devil himself.
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