Chapter 6 - The Ruined Aisle
Four large, calloused hands clamped down onto the delicate white lace of the bride's shoulders.
They hoisted her upward with brutal, mechanical efficiency.
The sheer fabric of her sleeves ripped at the seams, the threads snapping loudly.
She thrashed, her bare arms flailing wildly against the guards' thick black vests.
Her feet kicked out, the silk heels scattering more broken glass across the floor.
The guards ignored her thrashing, dragging her backward down the long, flower-lined aisle.
Her screams bounced off the high, vaulted ceilings, desperate and feral.
The groom never turned around to watch her go.
He reached up, methodically adjusting his black bowtie.
He stared blankly at the empty space on the table where his glass used to be.
The heavy, carved oak doors at the end of the hall swung open.
The guards dragged the writhing mass of white lace out into the cold night air.
The heavy doors slammed shut, cutting off the screams instantly.
The room returned to a suffocating, dead silence.
The five-year-old boy stood in the center of the wreckage, holding his velvet pillow.
He looked at the torn piece of white lace left behind on the wet floor.
"Uncle Julian," the boy said softly.
"Yes, Leo."
"If the medicine makes you go away forever..."
May you like
The boy hugged the ring pillow tightly to his chest.
"...I'm glad you didn't drink it."
