CyanideGoodnight
September 3rd, 2012, 01:26 PM
She was happy, but she wanted to feign no emotion. His side of the family did not like her and did not want her to be happy, and she wanted to appease them by pretending that she felt nothing. However, she was so happy that no matter how much she acted otherwise, her happiness radiated throughout whatever room she was in. The happiness she felt was pure and could not be denied, and after a while, she decided that she should be happy anyway, for it was a very happy occasion. She was finally getting what she wanted and once the ceremony was over, it would be said and done. Final. Official. Complete.
All the preparations had been made. The flowers arranged, the church booked, the invitations sent, and everything was in place for the ceremony. The only thing left was to get a dress.
And so her and her friends went in search of the perfect dress, and found it. It fit her perfectly and she felt like an angel in it. She was ecstatic when she bought it. It was the perfect dress for the perfect occasion, she had the perfect friends, it was all going to be absolutely perfect. This event would change her life for the better. It meant stability would come into her life and the physical and emotional abuse that came with her old life would finally disappear and she would start a new better life for herself with the people she loved most.
The day of the ceremony came, and it was everything she dreamed of and more. The only thing wrong with it was the slow, solemn, morbid tone the priest spoke with. It was quite odd for someone to talk like that for an event so wonderful and filled with joy like this one. She brushed it off, though, because most priests have that tone no matter WHAT their saying.
After the sermon, some people said some words and loaded the coffin of the man she once was married to into the Hearst, and they drove off to the cemetery.
At the cemetery, his family glared at her like it was her fault he died. It was as if they didn’t know the abuse he put her through. The pure fear she lived with every day that it would be her last and that death would not come quickly. The self-hate because she still loved him and the thoughts that maybe she deserved what she was getting. The poison she helplessly and yet willingly swallowed, the hate and pain she endured, all to be with him and to save her life. The fear of leaving only to be found again by the domestic terrorist she was married to for 19 years before his “tragic” death before his time. If she knew how he was being with him for only a month after marriage, how did they not know after years with living with him? Perhaps he showed his true colors to those outside his family.
Either way, their ignorance to this annoyed her, but she left them in the dark about how evil he was, how he was a curse and not a blessing, but she realized they could believe what they wanted about her and what happened with his death.
She realized this because their ignorance and assumptions did not and could not affect her happiness, for she was free, and now, no one could take away her freedom.
All the preparations had been made. The flowers arranged, the church booked, the invitations sent, and everything was in place for the ceremony. The only thing left was to get a dress.
And so her and her friends went in search of the perfect dress, and found it. It fit her perfectly and she felt like an angel in it. She was ecstatic when she bought it. It was the perfect dress for the perfect occasion, she had the perfect friends, it was all going to be absolutely perfect. This event would change her life for the better. It meant stability would come into her life and the physical and emotional abuse that came with her old life would finally disappear and she would start a new better life for herself with the people she loved most.
The day of the ceremony came, and it was everything she dreamed of and more. The only thing wrong with it was the slow, solemn, morbid tone the priest spoke with. It was quite odd for someone to talk like that for an event so wonderful and filled with joy like this one. She brushed it off, though, because most priests have that tone no matter WHAT their saying.
After the sermon, some people said some words and loaded the coffin of the man she once was married to into the Hearst, and they drove off to the cemetery.
At the cemetery, his family glared at her like it was her fault he died. It was as if they didn’t know the abuse he put her through. The pure fear she lived with every day that it would be her last and that death would not come quickly. The self-hate because she still loved him and the thoughts that maybe she deserved what she was getting. The poison she helplessly and yet willingly swallowed, the hate and pain she endured, all to be with him and to save her life. The fear of leaving only to be found again by the domestic terrorist she was married to for 19 years before his “tragic” death before his time. If she knew how he was being with him for only a month after marriage, how did they not know after years with living with him? Perhaps he showed his true colors to those outside his family.
Either way, their ignorance to this annoyed her, but she left them in the dark about how evil he was, how he was a curse and not a blessing, but she realized they could believe what they wanted about her and what happened with his death.
She realized this because their ignorance and assumptions did not and could not affect her happiness, for she was free, and now, no one could take away her freedom.