Imprisoned in the night II

"Great!", I scoffed. "I'm so beautiful."

"Thank you. Hopefully your husband will be pleased as well." Carla's smile turned into a glow. I almost believed her. She believed it herself, and that was the disturbing thing. The absurd. But considering our situation... I wasn't in the mood to question her state of mind. She certainly knew about my grave circumstances. So why waste strength and nerves on one of those henchmen. She turned to her assistant, handed him the brush. After a moment's hesitation, he took it. His fingers trembled. She clicked, at his nervous look. I wonder if she was thinking about firing him because he wasn't cut out for this particular business. Too innocent, not cunning enough. The money hadn't corrupted him yet. At least not yet. I could see it in his eyes. The remorse, how it gnawed at him. His face was as pale as a handkerchief. His pupils wavering, his gaze never met my. Fear was reflected in his eyes. Fear and pity. I felt sorry for him.

It was probably his first crime. His boss, on the other hand... seems to have dealt with this client more often.

"Give me rouge coco gloss 804!"

Hastily, he nodded as he obeyed her command and handed the lip gloss over. Pink lips, dazzling, as if lacquered. The sweet sticky smell right under my nose, helped my stomach flip 360 degrees, I almost felt like I was jolted by a roller coaster.

Smiling, she put her hands on my shoulders, looking at her handiwork in the mirror. "You look fabulous, Darling."

"I hope so." I watched her in the mirror. Her perfect posture, shoulders back, an exposed neck, head held high and this smirk. An ego contaminated by complacency. I wish I could wipe that grin off her face. Yet all I could do was write her name down on my blacklist. Waiting for an opportunity... as they say, revenge was better served cold. First I had to get my own butt off the thin ice before it could break.

The long veil was still beside her, on the side table. Lipsticks, powders, vials of what-not were piled around it. Everything only of the finest. High-quality. I wondered - Why put on this whole show when all they really needed was my signature? It was ridiculous. Humiliating. Not an emotion a bride should ever feel on her day.

I refused to look in the mirror, eyes just too tired to look at the painted face full of shock and agony. My hand pressed under the chest, massaging the rumbling stomach. Still, the bitter taste did not disappear from the tongue.

The hairstyle was perfectly in place. Despite my little sabotages. "It suits me so perfectly." I fiddled on the construction of hair and hairspray, on the verge of tearing it down, just to feel. Just to test, if I was still alive. Only for a moment... to breath. I didn't. Swallowed the thought down again.

"I think so, too."

Obediently, I smiled, as Rochou's bride should. "Thank you." With the makeup on, my eyes seemed twice as big. Doll-like. My lips squeaky pink, like a warning color - CAUTION TOXIC! KISS AT YOUR OWN PERIL! If he kissed me...better not think about it... but... I'd vomit right on his expensive suit, or rather his face. He would be foaming over it. His face would swell red, like every time he had one of those raving fits. Then he would smile, apologize to the guests, pale of shame. Blaming it on my nervousness or God-knows-what. He loved to talk in front of audiences, to hear his own voice. Then, he would have me brought to a room. Where no one could hear his curses and screams. I would stand by, silent and deaf. Rejoicing? His humiliation in front of everyone. Would this be satisfaction?

Inconspicuously, my thumb stroked my lip, the whole fingertip stained pink. A burning sensation in my throat. This makeup was thick, slimy, I couldn't breathe under it. It suffocated me.

I resembled one of those girls from La route rouge in their skimpy dresses, pumped full of alcohol or whatever substances they could get, only to stop feeling, forgetting themselves in order to somehow survive. I wanted to wash it off immediately. It didn't. Numb.

I never thought it would come to this. Never! The nausea increased. Nearing the point of collapse.

What a terrible joke. A wedding...?

I wanted to scream. But not a single tear gathered in the corner of my eye. I was not allowed to cry. Not now. As long as they had him... As long as Addy wasn't safe!

"Just a moment more..." She reached for the veil. It was beautiful. Made of fine lace, as if woven of fine spider webs.

"Of course." I smiled. It didn't reach my eyes. Was this what a sold bride looked like?

"You look happy." His voice dripped with sarcasm. We both knew I didn't.

"I'd be happier if I could break your nose."

"I'd find that amusing."

I stared at Mr. 22 Reflection in the mirror. There was no trace of amusement in his face, even though his voice suggested it. The way he sat there. Relaxed, playing with his smartphone. Indifferent, like me. My desire grew to ram my fist between his eyes.

"Will you walk me down the aisle?" His job wasn't finished yet, according to the delivery. Probably he had to make sure that I walked all the way down the aisle.

"Your father takes this honor." The man who had sold me. Of course, he took part in this spectacle. It was all he had longed for since the day I was born. The money that had been rightfully his. I stood in his way.