Each foot that is covered by driving to the venue is a foot closer to my doom. She's slowly driving me to a place where I know it will be the start of something potentially horrible. She senses my fear that's boiling in the pits of my stomach, and she's entertained by it. The only thing she lives to see is my pain and suffering through everything I've conquered in life. And now, her dreams have come true on this day. 

When we get there, I notice that it's not a big hall. It's like the size of the city hall in our town. My cost efficient Mom didn't want to blow too much money on the wedding itself. And yet she blows so much money every week on booze at the local bar. How convenient. 

She takes me out of the car and starts to roughly pulls me to a small room. She's acting like a dog owner pulling their misbehaving pitbull by the leash because they're trying to chase a cat. As she drags me to the dressing room, I pay attention to the design and the feel of the hall. It's almost like a small, cheap motel, where everyone's staying on a road trip because they didn't want to spend too much on money. 

Eventually, she takes out a little key, and shoves it into the lock, twisting it sharply to open the door. She yanks me into the dressing room, which is nothing short of a motel room. I see my wedding dress hanging from a little bar. 

In my opinion, it looks no different from a white nightgown that I once owned as a teenager. That must have cost, like, $15 at Macy's. She opens a door, and there's a small bathroom inside. "Get changed. We have to do your makeup," she says harshly.

I snatch the dress and I drag myself inside the bathroom. I look at my eyes, which are like pink gumballs in my eye sockets. My sun kissed face feels crusty from the dried tears that fell like rain drops. I hold up the wedding dress, and examine its slight shimmer, resembling the full moon that hangs in the night sky. 

I examine it in more detail, and it's slightly more glamorous than an old nightgown. It slips on easily, which I appreciate, and it's comfortable. It has laced sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a flowing skirt. I'm not going to lie, it's a little bit pretty. 

A small wave of satisfaction washes over me. At least my mom chose a dress that was fairly stylish. As I'm admiring myself in the mirror, a sharp knock snaps me out of my trance. "Are you done yet?" my mom demands. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, I'm done," I tell her, and stroll out of the bathroom. My mom's waiting there, with an annoyed and impatient look on her face. When she sees me, satisfaction forms on her face. This is what she wants to see today as she gives me away. She wants to see me, in this dress, not arguing with her as she possibly ruins my life. 

"See, this is beautiful. Your husband is going to fall in love with you so quickly when he sees you in that dress," my mom says. I resist the urge to gag at her admiration. The thought of the man that's willingly marrying me, with the possibility that he knows that I'm marrying him against my will, makes me nauseous. I suppress that nausea so that I don't throw up on my mom, the dress, or my husband. 

"Now, sit down over here," my mom says. I walk over and I sit down on a little stool. She takes out a little makeup kit and she paints some pink lipstick on my lips, draws some eyeliner on my eyelids, fluffs my eyelashes with mascara, and dusts on a little bit of blush. She then ties some flowers into my hair, and gives me a bouquet that looks like the flowers were pulled from my neighbor's garden.

"Beautiful, Nicole. So beautiful," she admires. I fight the urge to smile at the rare compliment. It's something that I'm not used to hearing, so when I hear the compliment, it makes me a little bit happy. Then, my mom's phone rings. She takes the call, and she speaks for 30 seconds. 

"He's ready. Let's go," she says, putting an end to the short lived happiness that I experienced.

Once we get to the hall, I see the ushers open up the doors. The small hall is barely decorated with some simple flowers and ribbons. I then see my future husband waiting at the end of the aisle, and he looks happy. A cheap suit is slipped on, and his hair is somewhat combed. 

The look on his face is not the kind of "happy," that most husbands would be on their wedding day. The happiness conceals a more sinister and revolting emotion. One that's a sibling of pure lust and domination. And those emotions make my heart beat even faster, and in the worst way possible. When he gets a better look at me, his lips curl into a smirk. 

The smirk is the most nauseating thing that I've seen. The smirk only intensifies with each step that I take down the aisle. With each step towards my future husband, I'm taking one step away from getting myself out of here. I'm afraid that someone will catch me, and punish me for trying to escape the possible hell I'm going to endure.

 While we're walking down the aisle, I resist the urge to punch my mom and run off. It takes me every muscle in my body to not do that. I know that Elena always wanted to throw a right hook at her, but I have to do this to my family if I want to ensure that none of them get seriously hurt or affected. 

My mom is walking as fast as she can in order to get rid of me as soon as possible. Once my mom and I reach the end of the hall, the man comes down to receive me. My mom takes my hand and she places it into his. She struts over to the pew, and she sits down idly. 

The man takes my hand and leads me to the officiator. He then looks at me, with eyes that have so many emotions melted into them that it's hard for me to decipher each of them. His full lips are pressed together, in a neutral face, that I don't know what to think of it. His entire demeanor is just a confusing mess. One where if I try to decipher it, I will get a migraine. The officiator says the usual, and then when he gets to me, he asks me the big question.

"Do you, Nicole Valeria Wilson, take this man, Colin Stewart Mitchell, to be your husband, to love, and to cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?" he asks. I feel like everything I've eaten in the past 2 days is going to come back up and onto my husband, the officiator, and on the floor. Saying those words is like making me eat a whole frog alive in one gulp. It takes everything for me to not turn away and gag uncontrollably on the side.  

In one breath, I say, "I do." The words feel like acid on my tongue. The words are like small needles piercing my tongue as I say them. It stings me to say those words, and to officially become a part of this heinous man. I glance over at my mom, and she has another smirk of satisfaction drawn on her face.

I really want to just flip her off, but my husband is saying his vows. "I do," Colin says. 

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," he says. Colin apparently takes full advantage of this, and he forces his lips onto mine. It's the most forced thing ever. He's trying to make this romantic, but it's not working. No matter how hard he tries, I'll always resent him for taking away my freedom like that. I will always resent him from taking away my wings that helped me fly throughout these past 18 years of my life.

Eventually, he lets go, and we look at each other. He takes my hand, and he walks down the hall. He sees my mom, and she smiles. "Take good care of her," she says, in the most saccharine voice ever. The look on her face makes it look like she actually cares, but beneath that facade, I see something else. 

Aside from the cheerful facade she slipped on her face, there are layers of a different kind of happiness. It's relief. She's relieved to release the burden of her last child onto this man. She is relieved that the years of financial instability are somehow solved with the words of, "I do." She believes that marrying me off is the best solution to solving the years of turmoil that that she took part in creating. 

As she tells us this, all I think to myself is, "Dom, Elena, banish this puta to a place no shorter than hell." Colin smiles. "Don't worry. I will," he says, with an unusual smile on his face. If fear wasn't stirring up inside me, well now it is. This is not going to end well.

********

The drive back to Colin's house is as silent as an exam period. I look out the window and I still process the fact that not only did my mom give my consent for me, but he actually agreed to do this to me. In my mind, he isn't any better than my mother. He's probably even worse. 

He had the opportunity to let me free, and go back to my family, and yet he didn't do that. What kind of person is he? Why is he doing this to me? Does he want to hurt me? What does he have in store for me? I'm dying for answers to all of these questions, but I remind myself I'll probably get them when he drives back to his house. 

Once we pull into his garage, he takes my suitcases and he carries them up to his bedroom. I drag myself to his bedroom, and I see a pair of new pajamas on the ironing board near the bed. Well, I appreciate that he got me clothes.

"There's a bathroom on your first left. Change in there," he says. I smile internally. Well, he isn't as bad as I thought. I don't know what I was worried about. I go into the bathroom, and I change. Once I get out, he's standing about 5 feet away from me. He's only wearing boxers, and he has a complex look in his eye. 

The look is like a multicolored sweater that someone knit for you that doesn't go with anything you wear. The emotions of lust, hatred, happiness, thirst, and others are sewn together into the complicated sweater that is Colin's eyes. "Well, I'm going to bed," I say calmly. Colin steps up in front of me, and he grabs my hand. It's a tight grip, like he's trying to squeeze the juice out of a lemon. I look at him.

"Is there anything you need?" I ask. He smirks at me, and leans in. His hot breath against my face is like a humid ray of sunshine on a summer day. 

"I need you," he whispers in my ear. His free hand makes its way to the hem of my shirt, where he tugs it a little bit too hard for my liking. I gasp a little bit at the sudden movement. I swat his hand away like it's a little mosquito trying to suck my blood. 

He lets go of my hand and he grabs the seam of my pants. I rip his hand away from there as well. He has no right to touch me like that. Not without my consent. I'll never let him touch me like that. With that move, the fight turns more physical than I can process.

His hands move away from my clothes and they make its way to my neck. His fingers wrap his way around my throat, squeezing it tightly. My air supply is suddenly cut off. I'm choking and coughing like a beached fish. 

He pushes me on the bed, and removes his hands from my neck. In a split second, his hands pin my wrists to the mattress. It's at this point that I realize that I'm at his mercy. He's overpowered me like a predator has with their prey. He has the power to do anything to me right now. I could die, live, or be scarred within the next 3 minutes.

He leans in and speaks harshly in my ear. "I own you now. I can do whatever I want to you, and you can't stop me. You're lucky tonight. We'll talk about this tomorrow," he says possessively, and he lets go of my hands. I squirm once I'm free of his touch, and my body finds the edge of the bed. My head immediately finds the pillow, and I try to catch some sleep. As I'm falling asleep, the realization hits me like a kick. 

This is going to be no shorter than hell. 

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I don't know about you guys, but writing these kinds of chapters hurt, for sure. Like gosh, when I first wrote this months ago, it stung like anything. When I read over it again, it stings a little bit more. It's like sticking your fingers in a nasty wound. How do you guys think Nicole is going to adapt to this new lifestyle? Let me know. 

Hey everyone! How are you doing? I'm really sorry to be breaking your guys' hearts like this. If it makes you feel any better, my heart broke as well, so that makes two of us? Anyways, I guess we've finally met Colin! What do you guys think of him so far? Let me know. 

That's pretty much it. Hope you guys liked this chapter!

Please vote/comment/share/follow/message if you like my work! See you all next Saturday with a new chapter of Phoenix! Have a great week!

Love you guys, 

Shree.