2. HE WHO TAKES HER

I felt him as he got near. All hairs in my body soared up with his approach and I wanted to run out yet my legs failed me. My brain short circuited and it was when a hand firmly grabbed me that I snapped from the shock but the fear slapped me dead faced. 

The hand was foreign. The grip was so tight it was like he wanted to break my hand. 

A pull told me he wanted me forward so I quickly moved up and nearly tripped on the stupid dress that was too hot. 

My father was gone, just a stranger before me but to be honest they were all strangers. 

He pulled me to the position he wanted me and the tension in the room told you that this wasn’t a happy wedding. This wasn’t a wedding at all, it was a funeral, mine. 

All I saw were dress shoes, such large dress shoes!

He was tall, way taller than me. 

The man was bulky, ‘crush me with his thumb’ bulky. 

The air about him preceded danger, so much danger. 

His cologne was strong, expensive, and smelled deadly too. At that point everything about him scared me to the pits. 

I knew my full height did not go beyond his shoulders.

The grip never loosened. 

Long thick legs hidden in those dark well-tailored suit pants that probably cost more than my net worth. 

“I do.” 

My eyes went wide, suddenly peaking my ears. 

“Do you Miss Brandy Madroi, take Mr Gambino, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

My head was already shaking because I couldn’t talk. My throat was closed up, I could barely breathe for crying out loud!

The room was spinning and everything was going blurry. 

Just a few weeks ago I was taking a few pictures with my gown, cap and degree. Just a few weeks ago I was looking over magazines with my friends as they all talked about future their plans. If only I knew. 

The hand tightened around my wrist and I felt it burn from the grip I had forgot was there. 

My ears were ringing with just my breath too loud. 

My body turned, my legs ready to make a run for it but the hand grew even tighter, gently but effectively pulling me back to where I was. 

“Repeat the question.” 

My soon to be husband said, his voice nearly knocking the lights out of me. 

This was crazy but it was happening. I swallowed and took deep breaths as the officiate threw the words out to me again. 

I closed my eyes and tried to steady my world. 

‘It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.’ I whispered in my head. 

Never in my wicked life had I seen my life going this way. 

 ‘It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be just fine. You are smart and strong, you can do this.’ 

My inner voice, my best friend, pitched in. 

I took another breath and opened my eyes. 

 “I do.” But I was not sure if I had said it out loud so I said it again, much firmer and louder. 

It’s funny because I couldn’t remember a ring sliding around his finger. 

“With the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Mr Gambino, you may kiss your bride.” 

I was too wasted for anything. At that point I was lucid, barely holding up but nothing happened. My veil stayed hiding my face and I remained where I stood. 

The silence was too loud for me, even the guests breathing out in shocked pants, all over the church. 

“I give you Mr. and Mrs. Gambino.” 

A chuckle came at some part of the church followed by more silence. I did not know what to do. 

The hand moved from my wrist and I nearly gripped it back. That warmth from his hand had kept me up, I realized. 

“Pick up your bride!” A shout came from somewhere and as if the some of the guests had been holding their breath, there was a burst of laughter and they wouldn’t stop laughing. 

‘I will not cry. I will be strong.’ I whispered in my head, bowing my head even more but then, the church went silent. I just wanted to be gone from there. 

I turned, ready to leave. 

My new husband took the step and I followed. He was tall, his strides long and fast I had to rush besides him to keep up. 

Wooden church benches were on either side of the passage, suit pants and heels on my view point until we reached the doors which Mr. Gambino opened. I had never been so glad to be outside, taking the steps two at a time to keep up. 

Cars that were not there before stood waiting, guards out in their black suits. 

He wasn’t a game, he was deep in the mafia. The men around the cars weren’t some security you could just hire. They were hardcore and trained by the mafia. My husband slid through an open door and without even thinking I jumped after him. Anything to get me away from everything. 

But of course, me getting in with the large dress was a whole team’s job. I found myself stuck on the door. As hard as I pulled I couldn’t get in. The guards had to push me through again, in front of my husband!

If there was anyone who deserved the crown of embarrassment, it was me. 

They spent long minutes pushing me in and I could hear my husband tick in irritation on his seat. 

The guests walked out, all staring with shocked gasps pouring from them as I was stuffed in the car!

The door closed, the car suddenly small with my dress everywhere. If I could rip it off, I would. 

The cars moved, the best part of the day. I did not even turn to take one last glance of my family. 

Whatever fate that waited for me I would take it. 

“I have a meeting in your house. We go there or I drop you off?” 

“Drop me off.” It was the loudest my voice had been that day. I did not want to step foot in that house again. 

He could drop me off on the street for all I cared. 

Silence spread, not sure what he was busy with. I stared out the window at the streets which were so foreign to me. My boarding school had been a prison for me, no going out as per rules from my father when he dropped me off at three years old. All I heard of the world was what those that came in older told me. My father had basically thrown me off and forgot. The excitement to explore the world was dying right before my eyes and all I could do was watch it through a tinted window. 

I saw nothing but another prison waiting for me but I would fight. I would not bend. I would stand my ground and fight for my freedom even if it meant death. 

The city was left behind, luxurious houses on either side until we left even them behind with trees flying away as we ran in the empty road despite the hour having passed. The sun sent it’s last golden rays, the last kick of the dying horse. They were beautiful, calming me down as I hyped myself up with hands in fists. 

We met a gate which opened after a few guards came to inspect the cars. We drove through, rounding a water fountain with a large house standing it’s ground. It was stunning. Tall windows giving it both a concrete and glass house concept. I loved it. 

“You need to sign this first.” 

I could finally concentrate on that voice. It was deep, authoritative, and scary. It left my body cold, my brain wanting to obey. 

I turned, my eyes lying on the paper he was holding out. Officially we weren’t married until I signed the certificate, right? The thought to just rip it apart lingered but I swallowed, taking the paper to see that he had signed with the officiate and witnesses. 

He held out a pen, even it looking like a million dollars. 

I flipped it, ready to throw it away, to sign my life away. 

I might have been signing but it wasn’t the end for me. 

I scribbled my signature, quickly holding it out to him. 

I opened my door, the guards outside, waiting to assist me out. His head bowed and finally I tipped my head up with new confidence. 

The man I had just married didn’t know what he was getting himself into.