Imprisoned in the night III

"I'm curious, how much did Father and Rochour pay you that I couldn't pay."

He winked, laughing, before rising from the sofa and walking across the room to the small bar in the corner. Every move brimmed with grace, although he was simply pouring cognac into a glass.

"Dear, you really need to put on your dress. Now. Or you'll be late," somehow she sounded a bit uneasy. The conversation was probably entering uncertain waters. Carla tried hard to stifle it. I wonder if she had a conscience after all. She seemed like a woman addicted to harmony, although it was bubbling under the surface, she would repress it.

I snorted in scorn. We both knew, even if I was late, he would marry me. I allowed her to maneuver me toward the dressing room. It wasn't the bride's happiness that mattered on this beautiful day, rather the money that would fill two other purses of course. I wanted to scream.

Cry out! "Of course.", I whispered. The face numb. "We can't keep the guests waiting, right?"

I didn't want to marry, not him. I wanted to die before I gave him a YES. But they had Addy... Rochou and Father were well-prepared. Had me driven into a corner. They knew how to break me.

Actually, I wasn't blameless at this tragedy. I should have sensed it. Closeness was always connected with consequences for me. Always! No one should have climbed over the wall, if someone tried I should have pulled it even higher, added one more row of bricks around this damn heart. Making it untouchable. So that it didn't hurt anymore...

"Here drink this. It'll make you feel better." He held a glass out. The amber liquid in it spun in circles, hopefully the bitter aroma would at least numb this throbbing head. Obediently, I downed it. A taste, aromatic with light vanilla notes licked over my tongue, burning its way down to the stomach. It made me cough, gasping for air.

He laughed. "Another one?"

"Yes!", I panted. I needed more than that bit to survive all this. Rochou and father... Bitter acid climbed up my esophagus. Hysteria climbed my mind - to cry and whine aloud, to dig my fingers deep into that tower of hair, to scream and yelp until my voice failed. This was only the edge of gray thoughts, more poisonous ideas lurked behind it.

It would not save me. No one would get me out of here.

My back was against the wall. Helpless. At mercy. Close to despair.

And they knew that! Maybe alcohol was no solution, but it could numb this beast in me. Make me a spectator of this farce. I held back the flow. I smothered it. I was not allowed to cry...

♔

"It's beautiful..." Carefully, my fingertips brushed over my shoulders. The lace soft, as if I were stroking clouds.

"He'll be pleased." He sounded smug behind the partition. "A gift from my client. He took a lot of trouble picking it out, so you wouldn't think of eloping a second time."

"You're threatening me?"

"Of course not. I'm only reporting my master's struggles. Principessa."

Carla pulled me to a large wall mirror. The white silk flowed, like a waterfall down my silhouette, billowing around my feet. Venus, who climbed straight out of the tides.

"Isn't it useless to threaten me? You have already reached your destination. So what else? What else do you want? I'll do it. I'll marry Rochou. What more do you want?" I couldn't help it. My voice bounced up an octave. Anger managed to break free of its paralysis. Blazed inside me for a second. When our eyes met in the mirror. I crushed it. Too late.

He laughed. "Relax a little."

"I do." I forced myself to smile, imagining Mona Lisa, trying to match her. Kindly and patiently, while I screamed inside.

"Of course." He approached me, extending his arm. "Madam Sémont, I thank you on behalf of the groom. She looks lovely." I wrapped my arm around his. "The bride needs another moment to herself." Abruptly, he lifted me off the floor. I gasped in fright, clawing at his black suit.

"Of course." she replied, fleeing with her assistants like a rat from a sinking ship.

"Of course." He approached me, extending his arm. "Madam Sémont, I thank you on behalf of the groom. She looks lovely." I wrapped my arm around his. "The bride needs another moment for herself." Abruptly, he lifted me off the floor.I gasped, clawing at his black suit.

"Of course." she replied, fleeing with her assistants like a rat from a sinking ship.

"Put me down." I punched his shoulder.

"Can't." he grinned and threw me over his shoulder.

I groaned and drummed my palms over his back.

"A moment for me - how gracious. I don't think I need it. Can we just run this show? Oh, and would you be so kind and put me down. Now!"

"I need another moment."

"Are you the bride?"

"Ouch, Principessa, ouch! I'm your fairy godmother, and you're hurting my feelings."

"Do you have any at all?"

"Of course, don't you see, like air intangible they hold me embraced. I suck them in, seared by their embers."

"And filled with sinful desire. You are no poet but a poor thief."

"A poor thief? Me?" he asked in feigned amazement. Then he laughed. This time it reached his eyes. "I don't know if he'll like this side of his bride. He..." Flo Rida interrupted him harshly. I couldn't believe my ears, that ringtone... it didn't fit Mr. 22 at all. "You can pick up," I teased.

"You'll excuse me." he said, burying his hand in the pocket of his pants.

"Of course. If you'll let me down."

His smartphone moved to his ear, forgetting about the dangling bride over his shoulder.

"Someone wants to talk..." The phone moved behind his back. "Here, it's for you."