Quem Sorriu No Fim Foi Quem Você Feriu

BRANDY

“You are getting married in three days.” 

Three days later and I still couldn’t believe it. 

Have you ever been stuffed in a car? 

Four bulky men stuffing me in the backseat of the car like a filling in a turkey. 

I did not know if to scream, cry or laugh, shocked to the core. 

“Brandy, It’s not that bad.” My sister Beaula said, and I could hear the lie, ripping a shiver from me. 

“Well, she shouldn’t have eaten so much if she wanted to look good for her wedding.” 

“I doubt she even thought she would marry.” Anna chuckled, our eyes caught on the review mirror. 

I had barely dropped my bags in my room when the news were sprung on me and Anna was right, I never thought I would ever see the day when someone called me their wife. The revelation had left me scattered in confused emotions. For one, a thing I had never thought would happen to me was happening, and secondly, I was being married off without my consent. 

“Be nice.” Emily threw daggers at Anna before she ran her hands down her chest. I was sure Emily was just happy she hadn’t been the one auctioned off without any care. 

My heart throbbed and my palms sweat even more. 

My eyes ran to scenery of the town only for it to be wasted on me. And suddenly I could see the large church. 

My heart went dizzy, shifting in my seat but my dress didn’t allow much movement. 

In it I looked like a pumpkin. 

My sisters had bought the first dress they came across. It was so large it was hanging on my body by pins and needles. It was a tent, swallowing and making me look fatter than I was. 

The sudden silence in the car made it worse. 

Emily came closer, setting my nerves on fire even before she could utter a word as the car came to a stop.  

“It’s time.” 

Time to give me away. Time for them to wash their hands off me. Time to get hitched. 

I nodded my head, my lips clasped into a thin line with no care for the makeup too cakey on my face. With the wedding thrown so fast, like a messy salad, Anna designated herself as my make-up artist and, lets say, I would have been better going natural 

All of us were thrown in different boarding schools as soon as we could walk, leaving the house and family foreign to us all. I might have been related to the women around me but I had just met them three days ago. There was no love lost. Only genes and blood bound us together. But they seemed friendly with each other, they had all been back home for a year. 

I never thought the first conversation I had with my father would be him letting me know I would be married and then chasing me out of his office when tears filled my eyes. It might have been the last conversation I would ever have with him.

Maybe he hated me. I never thought he did but I did lead to his wife’s death so maybe they all blamed me for it. 

The guards were all out of their car, my door opened, ready to tuck me back out. 

The day couldn’t get any worse. I felt like a balloon about to burst, the most hideous wedding dress I had ever seen. The fact that it puffed out from the waist down made the situation worse. Surely I looked ready to pop out a full baby. 

Hands were held out, me gripping the guard’s arms only for them to pull with much force. 

The tears burned, everything just crushing on me and it was too much. I swallowed them back, concentrating on getting out of car and getting through the day. I was no stranger to heartache. 

After a hassle they were able to pull me out, maybe having ripped the dress a little but the dress was so big surely no one would notice. 

The heels worn by my sister’s echoed as they made their way up the stairs. 

The first time I lay my eyes on them had left me thinking I had been adopted. They were all tall, slender with luscious hair I could not even dream of. It was something out of i*******m.

I watched as Emily ran up the stairs, the wind sending her curls bouncing, her curved waist seeming exaggerated with her round hips—a real barbie and I was in awe. Surely my husband would cuss me to death for being—me, the dumpling of the family.  

“Come come, do you need help with your dress?” Beaula was the nicest, just nine months apart, my father had not wasted time. He had really wanted a boy, not knowing that his obsession for an heir would kill his wife. 

From Beaula’s words I quickly pulled up my dress, moving up the stairs. 

Everything happened so fast I barely blinked. They all walked in after Beaula pulled down my veil. Father stepped out. He stood right next to me, never said a word and soon the doors to the church opened. 

I shook so hard even the church shook before my eyes. My eyes cast down, wishing the ground would swallow me. 

The silence in the church made it worse then the gasps and again, silence. 

I blinked the tears back, feeling my confidence collapse to crumbles. 

I didn’t want this. I did not want to be there, worse, wearing that hideous dress. It should have been something a grandma would wear in her death bed.

I wished I never came back. If only I had run away from school and started a new life all by myself. 

Not even a song played, just eerie silence as if someone was about to die. I wouldn’t be shocked. It was a mafia wedding after all. 

I couldn’t tip up my head even if I wanted to. It just kept bowing until I thought my neck would break. 

My father stopped and so did I, knowing his part was done. He could wash his hands off me and be done. 

I had not even wanted to know the man he was marrying me to but the image I had in my head wasn’t pretty. And as I stood there it finally hit me like cold water. 

I could be tying my life to a serial killer. I could be tying my whole life to a woman abuser. Suddenly a big bulging belly and rotten teeth did not matter, he could have been the worst human in the world and after this day I would never be able to escape him. I would be in his prison with him free to do anything he wanted to me.