The Alpha’ s Unwanted Bride

As I sit on the marble floor, letting the cold seethe into my skin, I can hear everything.

Outside is noisy. My brother brought his friends over to celebrate the new car Dad got for him. Loud music. Laughter. Someone is revving the engine over and over again in our driveway. My Mom is shouting "Be careful!" but she is laughing. Her face full of pride.

Inside, my room is silent.

My report card is on the floor next to me. Straight As. For the first time in my whole life, straight As. I came home holding it so tight my knuckles turned white. I thought today would be different.

But when I walked into the driveway, nobody even saw me. There was a shiny black car with a big red bow on it. For Daniel.  Because he got into college. My parents were hugging him, taking pictures, crying with happiness. There were balloons everywhere.

I stood there for a full minute before my Dad noticed me.

"Not now, Lily" he said. His voice was flat, devoid of anger, which was somehow worse than shouting. "Can't you see we are celebrating your brother? You are wasting your time standing there."

He didn't look at my report card. He didn't ask.

So I came up here and sat on this cold marble floor.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die. Mine didn't. The only thing that was on my mind as I sat on that cold floor, listening to my brother's party outside, was the last three years. The constant pain and humiliation.

My name is Lily and I am eighteen years old. I was supposed to be a success story. My parents told me since I was old enough to hold a textbook, "Be better than us, Lily. Don't be a failure."

Ever since I had been old enough to understand the concept of failure, I have been so scared of it.

My older brother, Daniel, has been the golden child. He went through life on scholarships and sport offers. He was the life of our family. He was the one they talked about at dinner parties. I was the one they introduced quickly then changed the subject. I was the one who studied until 3 AM and still only managed A-minuses which in our house was the same as a D.

The pressure wasn't just from the schoolwork though. That was the least of it. It was the unfair bullying. It started online as a joke by my loser ex-boyfriend and his jerk friends. They capitalized on things like my anxiety, my tendency to stutter when nervous and my insecurity over my plain face. They made memes out of my school ID picture. They started a hashtag that trended through the whole region for a full week. They called me "The Ghost of the Library."

I told my parents about it. I showed them my phone. My mother scrolled for two seconds and said, "Just turn off your phone, Lily. Focus on your future. This is what weakness looks like."

They never asked if I was okay. They never saw the dark circles under my eyes. They just saw someone who was unnecessarily sensitive, not a daughter who needed saving.

I sat on that marble floor for a long time. The cold was now in my bones. Outside, Daniel’s  friends were still shouting. Someone screamed, "Let's take it for a spin!"

I looked down at my straight A report card. The paper was getting damp from the cold floor.

I thought, maybe if I was gone, the floor would not be so cold.

In the end, I got a As.

When I showed it to my father, he didn't even read the teacher's comments. All he saw was the paper in my hand and look annoyed.

“not now Lily, can’t you see we are celebrating your brother?”

My mother on the other hand had just sighed, turning back to the sink. "Your father is right. Try harder."

How hard do I have to try for them to realize that it was my hardest? When will they stop comparing me to my brother?

That was it. That was the end of the line. There was just an empty space where hope used to be. Nothing would ever change. I couldn't keep going like this.

I walked out of the house. No one noticed. They were still partying and cuddling their beloved son.

I drove until I got to the river, then I parked my old campry near the pedestrian bridge. The air was cold and damp and smelled like smoke from vehicle exhausts. The water below was black. The city lights on it were pretty and shiny and they distracted me from how alone I felt.

I walked to the middle of the bridge. I stood there for a long time. It must have been about 2 AM. Do my parents know I am not back home yet? Would anybody miss me if I disappeared?

I needed someone to save me but help was not forthcoming. I was utterly alone.

I thought about texting Daniel, but what would I say? I'm sorry I wasn't as smart as you? No. He would just say "do better".

I pulled out my phone and deleted all my social media accounts. It was a small act of rebellion but it was the most peace I had felt all day.

I dropped the phone on the sidewalk and climbed the railing.

Could I really do this? Was it really worth it?

Yes.

The metal was icy beneath my fingers. A car zoomed past, its headlights briefly

blinding me. It didn't care to stop. No one cared. I didn't hesitate this time. I leaned forward and jumped, letting gravity take over.

The feeling of falling was fast. It was a rush of cold air and blurring lights. There was a terrifying moment when I felt a brief spike of regret. I realized that I had made the wrong choice. I actually wanted to live. Badly.

Then came the impact. It was a hard collision that felt like I fell from a skyscraper to the concrete ground. The world went white. Pain. Intense, crushing pain everywhere.

And then silence.

I waited for the end, the cold water was dragging me down, the oxygen leaving my lungs. But the end didn't come.

Instead, I woke up gasping.

my knees were like it were made of sand, my body ache everywhere it felt like I had being dragged through stones.

My eyes open blurry at first, then cold water hit me. “go scrub the bathroom” I flinched. Struggling to see clearly

She look unfamiliar. Wasn't I drowning?

I tried to push myself up and my arms gave out. My knees were like they were made of sand, my body ached everywhere like I had been dragged through stones. The woman standing over me look strange with stone face like I had offended her. Her face was rounder, o

full of makeup,her face proud and nose pointed. Beautiful in an angry way. She held an empty wooden pail. She was glaring down at me like I was trash.

“Mom please” the words left my mouth before my brain realized. What!! Mom!!

“When you’re done, get your ass to your room, you contaminate the air with your foul smell.” She glared at me  "What the hell? Is this the afterlife? Sucks. I was hoping for oblivion when I contemplated suicide.”

The words left my mouth, but the voice wasn't mine. Higher. Softer. Weak.

The woman blinked. "What nonsense are you spewing now, Sylvia? Are you possessed? I said scrub the floor! The Choosing Ball is tonight and you are lying in dirty water?"

Sylvia? Who is Sylvia?

The room was wrong. Heavy dark curtains blocking all the light. No tiles. No bathroom sink. Just cold stone floors, stone walls, and the air smelled like smoke and pine. Not bleach. Not home.

My head pounded, but the crushing pain from the fall was gone. I slowly sat up, my limbs feeling alien. I looked down at my hands. They were not my hands. They were smaller. Finer. Perfectly smooth. No paper cuts from studying. No scars on my wrists. Nothing.

Panic shot through me. I scrambled my sand knees screaming to the corner where there was a tall, cracked mirror.

I didn't recognize the person staring back.

She wasn't me. Her hair was a rich light brown not my ugly blonde. Her eyes were green, wide with shock. Her body was slender, almost fragile, swimming in a rough brown servant dress.

I touched my face. The nose was thinner. The cheekbones higher. It was a pretty face, but pale and terrified. This girl clearly had never been called "The Ghost of the Library."

Where was I? Who was this?

My memories were all there. The school. The bridge. The fall. The white, crushing pain. The water dragging me down.

But the body was someone else's.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the voice that came out was not mine.

"Where..."

And then it hit me. A name, in the back of this body's mind. Faint. Like an echo.

Sylvia. Irish.

I hadn't died. Or maybe I had. And this was my twisted second chance.

But I wasn't Lily anymore.

I was Sylvia. The fourth daughter. The servant.

And someone was about to throw more cold water on me if I didn't start scrubbing.