TAG #TTH IN YOUR COMMENT(S) FOR YOUR CHANCE TO BE QUOTED IN THE OFFICIAL TRAILER FOR THE TRUTH HURTS 2!

She never was a fan of white.

Whether it was the pearlescent coat reflecting in her eyes from the Mercedes her father had attempted to lure her emotional sobriety with, the glossy feathers of the two identical doves chirping a melody of their own from the other room, or even the pale fluff building near the exterior of the window's lower rim, she felt more than just a lack of color but of substance too. And this day was no exception.

When the music—an all too familiar song set at the top of any girl's fairytale playlist—began to play, a feeling once foreign to her immediately pulsated throughout her body. Her arms quivered as goosebumps constellated up to the laced, scarlet sleeves draped over her shoulders and, as she turned to catch a final glimpse of herself through the oval accent mirror standing opposite of her, she could feel the tears resurfacing. But she knew she couldn't cry. After everything they have been through over the past few months and to be able to sift through the carnage and reconcile a shattered relationship that she thought had perished, how could she succumb to the tears now?

Plus it would completely ruin her makeup.

Commotion died as the swarm of guests in the gallery swallowed their unfinished sentences as they, in harmony, shuffled out from their gold and white sashed chairs to rise to their feet.

A young man stood tensely beside the preacher, his eyes locked onto the open double doors to his far right. He pulled anxiously at the sleeves of his simple yet pristine black tux but, the second he heard the clatter of high heels against the floor, his eyes widened and he found his attention fully drawn to the scarlet gown bouncing through the entryway—and at the breathtaking young woman wearing it.

Layers made up the immensely wide skirt of the dress, each silky wave consuming the other as the rippled pattern flowed down past her feet and trailed along over the hardwood behind her. The crowd began to toss white and lipstick red rose petals in the walkway and she couldn't help but giggle like a child, swatting at the drifting leaves until she reached the end of the long aisle between the pews that seemed to stretch endlessly. Then she finally reached him.

She peered up into his almond eyes as his hand outstretched toward her, brushing a strayed lock of blonde curled hair back behind her ear.

"Wow." Riley blushed, overcome with a sudden nervous stutter, "You—you look beautiful."

A long scar lined down the right side of his neck, parallel to one much shorter in length on his left side. A well-kept mane of dirty blonde hair was nicely combed back with not a single strand out of place. His face was paler than usual, perhaps due to that he is clean shaven for the first time since his middle school years. Or perhaps due to his incredibly long stay at the hospital.

"Not so bad yourself." Casey smirked, her usual flirtation seasoned with a dab of sarcasm. "You ready to do this or what?"

In the front row stood a group of familiar faces, many of which she hadn't seen gathered in the same room for quite some time. Each smile, waved, mouthed or whispered a word of encouragement. Her parents stood closest to the aisle, both smiling and roaring in synchronized clamor as if it was one of her high school cheerleading competitions. It's been several months since she has seen the two of them together, let alone happy, and she couldn't help but feel uneasy at the sight of it. Musically-entwined couple, Kris and Jesse, stood next to them as Jesse wrapped his arms tightly around Kris, who shot Casey a friendly wave. Taylor and Peyton happily took the roles of the two bridesmaids, both wearing matching off-white dresses with red floral prints intertwining as they stem upwards from the bottom of the skirt.

A flash startled Casey's parents and the two laughed, striking a quick pose as another picture was snapped. Taylor's smile widened as she drew her attention to the man in the blue button-up topped off with a white bow tie. As if sensing her stare, the camera looped around as the photographer focused in on her with more than just his lens.

And, as Marc pressed the button, the two simultaneously burst out with laughter. From the low fade buzz cut to his exuberant smile, down to his quirky borderline-hipster clothing, he hadn't changed a single bit. Taylor, on the other hand, traded her ombré highlights for a much darker style that complimented the deep chestnut veil shadowing her eyelids. Long bangs drape past her brow and, as a nervous but cute gesture, she swipes them to the side as the two continue to exchange heavy eye contact. He wanted nothing more than to cross the aisle and join her but, given the ceremonial circumstances, all the two could do was gaze at one another. After all, distance had never been something they couldn't overcome. So what is a couple of feet?

To the left of Riley was an empty space where his best man should be standing. Instead, watching from a distance, Morgan propped himself up against the wall near the exit as he peered at the soon-to-be newlyweds. He wore nothing but a raggedy, wrinkled white tee and jeans far too baggy for his figure. But, even then, they didn't allow his scowling mien to disturb the moment.

The preacher spoke his usual words, followed by the couple's vows, and the guests cheered and hollered in excitement as the two pulled in for a passionate kiss. Perhaps too passionate, as Casey could hear her younger sister dramatically clearing her throat behind her. Either that, or Peyton was resisting the urge to vomit.

Not too long after, the two found themselves amidst the crowd of buoyant guests in the conventional hall. Riley followed her lead, as he was never the most rhythmic on the dance floor.

"You know I love you, right?"

Casey flashed her wedding band. "I would hope so."

"No I mean—" He sighed, finding it difficult to summon the right words. He pulled up her hands and placed them together, gently blanketing the back of her palms with his own. Their matching silver bands lightly grazed one another. "I love you. For as long as we've known each other, I always have. And regardless of what happens... regardless of whatever comes our way... I always will."

"Me too. I mean you too." She shook her head, so overwhelmed by everything that she couldn't think clearly. "Damnit Riley, I love you t—"

Her nervous jabber was interrupted by an abrupt kiss and, as her hand crawled its way up his neck, his arm reached around her waist to pull her further inward. His top lip slowly glazed her against bottom, but the romantic gesture was soon halted as she felt his body suddenly tense up—almost as stiff as a corpse lying underneath a black leather veil as its enclosing bag is zipped shut.

And maybe that's just what he was. A corpse on the verge of decay.

With vicious consistency similar to that of melted wax, she could feel a thick substance seeping from between her fingertips. She slid her hands further down his neck and let them drop to her waist, just as he pried his unexpectedly cold lips from hers. Chapped and pale blue, she watched as his quivering mouth parted and between his attempt to speak she could hear a gurgle, like the muffled sound of water splashing from the bottom of an abandoned well, regurgitate from the pit of his throat.

Slowly, she glanced down at her hands to see they were now matching her dress as they were soaked in a heavy layer of crimson contrasted with a dark, blackening hue of charcoal.

Red splotches began to fade in from behind his white dress shirt, corresponding with the wounds that were inflicted on his chest and lower abdomen long ago. In a matter of seconds, the poplin fabric was drenched in what appeared to be gallons, buckets even, of perpetual gore.

"Cas—" Riley's voice cracked, quickly cut off by the blood pooling from his mouth. It unwaveringly coursed over the slope of his chin, bubbles surfacing in the cascade as it reached his collar to saturate the last remaining clean section of his shirt.

"Riley!" Casey screamed in both horror and despair as she watched helplessly as what was, just moments ago, a scar on his neck was now a deep slash—his skin slowly tearing open almost as if an entity of some sort was escaping his body, the thinning flesh gradually stretching like a wad of putty aggressively being pulled in separate directions.

She attempted to apply pressure to the wound as he fell to his knees. Everything and everyone surrounding him faded to obscure shapes however, despite the disorientation, he managed to focus in on the woman holding him.

But it wasn't just him.

"Help! Somebody please help him!" Casey hollered, pleading for anyone to step in, but—as her eyes darted around the large room—it appeared all the guests had left. The four-tier cake sat alone in the corner, porcelain plates surrounding its circular base and empty chairs lined up the walls bordering the room. It was almost as if everyone had inexplicably vanished. She continued to scream, not knowing what the fuck was happening, "HELP!"

"Please..." Her voice lowered to that of a helpless plea as her eyes found their way back to Riley. She continued to apply pressure to his neck, although it now felt as if her fingers were pressed up against exposed muscle tissue. She was too frightened to move her hand, or even look down, so she kept her attention locked onto his weakening gaze.

But, through his hazed vision, he noticed a distorted figure slowly easing into focus as it towered behind Casey. It loomed down at the couple as sharp steel slithered out from underneath the enigma's long sleeve.

Through the reflection in Riley's widened eyes, she saw what at first appeared to be a pale face slip into sight and a glimmer of hope overcame her. But she quickly recognized the expressionless, and very familiar mask, as it lingered further over her shoulder.

Riley finally managed to spit out a final word, blood spewing from between his lips like a broken faucet. "R—Run!"

But it was too late.

As she spun around, the masked figure lunged at her, digging the blade of his hunting knife into her upper chest. She inhaled deeply but, instead of air, a thickening fluid filled her lungs and she too began to collapse to the floor. A deep puddle of the couple's fused blood dispersed around them, spreading through the cracks in the surrounding tiles similar to the vessels swelling in her now bloodshot eyes.

She peeled her attention away from the knife, which was lingering high in the air once again, and turned back to face Riley's lifeless body. Her hand trembled at she attempted to reach out to grasp onto his but, before her fingers could even touch his palm, she felt the long blade thrust into her back.

Gasping, Casey quickly sat up and peered at the room around her. She blindly reached out and yanked the chain dangling from her lamp on the nearby nightstand, flicking on the dim light to reveal that, instead of a conventional hall, she was in a small bedroom surrounded by nothing but narrow bland walls. She wiped at what still felt like blood dripping down her chest, relieved to find that she was drenched in sweat.

"It was just a dream, Case." she panted under her breath, "Just another dream."

What was meant to reassure her only made her feel worse. She looked over at the right side of the bed, almost as if expecting to see someone lying next to her, however the sheets were neatly tucked and the two pillows stacked in front of the headboard lied undisturbed.

She reached back over to the lamp, the engagement band she couldn't bare to remove glistening from her ring finger, and her eyes caught that of the blissful—and, at the time, naive—couple smiling at her from inside a wooden picture frame. It was almost as if they were mocking her.

It was taken from their first official week as a pair. Riley had his harm tightly wrapped around her waist and she proudly wore his oversized letterman jacket. They were the perfect cliché of a jock-cheerleader duo at the time and, despite her present urge to fight against such patriarchal stereotypes, Casey held no shame in how they met. If it wasn't for where they began, there is a high possibility that they would have never crossed paths. Let alone become an item.

Then again, considering how everything had since crumbled to shit, she couldn't help but think maybe it would have been best after all if they had never met. Even if he wasn't by her side, maybe he would still be here.

She flicked off the light.