Ivory
Contemplating the gown, I run the pads of my fingertips over the silk tulle. I admonish myself of who I am impressing as my scrutinizing eyes graze over my appearance. The bodice of the dress clings to my top, accentuating my curves. As your eyes travel lower, the dress becomes wider and more pliant. Stretching across the floor, a long train ends the dress. I turn to my mother who is standing beside the pedestal I'm displayed on. Soft, nurturing eyes meet mine, and she understands my dilemma.
"The dress is beautiful, but not for me," I tell her. It is true. The dress is stunning, but I don't feel stunning. She nods with knowledge of what I am thinking, and she leads me off the pedestal to the dressing room. The employee follows closely behind.
While I am transitioning into another flawless wedding gown, the door cracks open, and in pops Hunter. Frantically, I shoo him out, but he only chuckles at my attempt. "Babe, I have to get back to work. A problem arose," he informs me with unreadable, mesmerizing eyes.
Although my heart drops to my stomach, I nod with understanding. "Okay, I'm going to head home afterwards," I reply, my voice steady, not disclosing my emotions.
Hunter frowns, not approving of my plans, but he soon replaces it with a small smile. "Okay, I'll stop by after work," he assures.
I shake my head no. "I'll be planning the guest list and working on the plans," I notify. If Hunter visits, I won't get a single thing done.
"Fine," he caves. "I gotta' go," he says before slipping out of the room.
After a line of unappealing gowns, I am slipped into another delicate dress. Not wanting to disappoint myself more, I remind myself mentally that this may not be the perfect dress. I am led out to the pedestal, blindly trailing behind my mother. Pure astonishment overcomes me when I open my anxious eyes, but it is soon replaced with genuine bliss. The ivory bodice begins at my bosom and grips my chest to my stomach. At my waist, the fabric poofs out into a princess' ballgown. An aura of elegance and grace engulfs me as I fill the wonderful dress.
"Ivory, you look gorgeous," Mom compliments me with a tender smile.
"This is it," I tell her, absentmindedly feeling the texture of the attire. I gaze in awe at the reflection of me. The brilliant gown is the one. The dress. "I want this one," I whisper, sure of myself. I feel indestructible... beautiful. Mother nods and turns to the employee.
"We will be buying this one," she reports.
After the trade of money for a magnificent gown, Mom and I head home. We comfortably ride in silence all the ride home. When we arrive, I brew a pot of tea, and I gather my notepad and pen. Heaving a loud sigh, I plop down on the couch beside Mom.
"I don't even know who he wants at the wedding!" I exclaim exasperatedly. I was wrong when I said I didn't need him here. How am I going to form a list if I have no clue who he wants there?
"Start with the basics. You know he'll want his mom and dad at the wedding. Who else do you know? What about your side?" Mom guides me along with prompting questions.
I scribble down his mom and dad and Mom's name. Janice and Chad are added to the list, but then I am stumped. "There's truly no one I would think of to invite, except for Janice, Chad, and you, Mom," I confess, aggravated.
"Just call him. He'll tell you what who to invite," she recommends.
I nod before standing up to find my phone. "Hunter, come by after work to discuss the guest list," I order after he answers.
I can sense his victorious smirk through the phone. "Okay, but just because you asked so nicely," he replies, each word dripping with sarcasm.
I scold myself mentally once I realize the dark blush filling my cheeks. "Oh hush, and stop by," I tell him. His laugh floats through the receiver.
"I'll be there soon," he vows before cutting the line, leaving me pouting.
Finding no reason to continue with the list until he arrives, I stroll lazily to my room. Feeling stiff in my sophisticated skirt and blouse, I change into a more casual pair of blue jeans and a sweater. Sitting criss-cross-applesauce on my bed, I flip open my notebook on my cover. Beginning at the front cover, I read through the writing, acknowledging the growth of my handwriting.
"Blue birds, vanilla icecream, puppies, cherry lollipops," I read the first line, remembering when I wrote the words. Flipping a few pages ahead, I read the scribbles, "Christmas Carols, colorful lights, apple cider." Towards the front, neater cursive handwriting reads, "Creamer in Coffee, children, green apples." A small, content smile stays on my face as I flip through the pages. A few ridiculously random items are on the list, but some bring back many sullen memories.
I jump a foot off the bed when I feel the weight of the bed shift. I glance at the intruder beside me, and I hastily shut the book, not wanting Hunter to see. Suspicious, he snatches the notebook from me and holds it high out of my reach.
"Stop it! No!" I scream, grabbing blindly for the book.
Hunter chuckles deeply. "Band-aids? Traffic? School? What is this? Things you see daily?" he teases.
"No!" I scream. "I'm not telling you!" I insist. In a flash, he tackles me onto the bed, and straddles my waist. A mischievous grin plays across his face.
"Tell me," he commands with a strong voice that has an underlying hint of laughter.
"Or what?" I test him, seeing how far he will go with his devious plan. A small squeal escapes my parted lips before I burst into involuntary giggles. My legs thrash under his waist, and I struggle to move my arms under his tight hold. I wiggle and squirm until there's no point. I laugh and squeal until my stomach aches. "No... stop! I'll... tell... you!" I gasp between yelps. Instantly, the attack ceases. After catching my breath and sending Hunter a wrathful glare, I answer, "It's a list of things I am thankful for. You happy?" I yell exasperatedly.
"I'm very happy now, Miss Moody," he picks, continuing to straddle my waist.
I heave a breath dramatically. "Get off me fatty," I order teasingly. He brushes a butterfly kiss on my forehead before rolling off me. He laughs heartily as his arm falls over my waist. "Come on, we have a guest list to write," I remind him as I get up off the bed.
He groans, obviously not enjoying the idea. "Can't it wait?" he whines like a pigheaded child.
"No, let's go," I say while putting back my notebook in the top drawer of my dresser. "As much as I hate it, we have to plan a wedding," I announce.
A scowl forms on Hunter's face, and his body tenses as he follows behind me. What the hell is he pissed about now? I sit down at the kitchen table, and he slide out the chair across from me, his anger evident. Ignoring his attitude, I flip to the page I was writing on earlier. "Okay, I have the basics, your parents, my mom, Janice and Chad, but I have no clue who else," I catch him up.
He huffs, fuming. "Add my sister, grandparents, and... Never mind, I'll do it! Give it here!" he demands.
I toss the notebook at him, but not before muttering, "Geesh, don't get your panties in a bunch."
His head snaps up to mine, fire dancing in his eyes. "What was that?" he asks, daring me to say it again.
My voice louder now, I repeat, "I said, don't get your panties in a bunch!" Infuriated, I cross my arms over my chest, shooting daggers at him.
A smirk replaces his frown. "My panties?" he asks with amusement. His joking only deepens my angst.
"This isn't funny!" I exclaim, completely irked by his behavior. The chair screeches as I stand up. "You do this by yourself!" I shout, storming out of the room. I hear his footsteps behind me.
"What the hell is your problem?" he questions, my back still turned to him.
"I'm going out, I need a drink," I voice my plans.
"No you aren't," he turns me around to face him.
"I didn't ask for your permission," I notify him, steam billowing from my ears. "News flash, Hunter, I'm not your little pet you can order around! I'm going out, and that's final!"
His strong hand grips my wrist with a firm grip, but not hard enough to form bruises. "Listen here Princess, you aren't going out right now. We have a wedding to plan," he orders.
"I'm not helping you plan the damn wedding!" I yell, about to burst.
"Stop acting like a child!" he retorts.
I yank my arm away, and stomp past him. "I'm getting a drink!"
"It's not even 5 o'clock yet!" he shouts at me, enraged.
"I don't give a damn!" I scream before slamming the door shut.
A dark figure sits on the stool beside me. I glance up at him with curious eyes, but I only look into ones that stare at me with admiration. I put the name with the face immediately, but I keep quite, returning to my drink. "Princess, didn't plan to see you here. What's making you drink?" Ryan asks with a hint of laughter.
I roll me eyes dramatically. "More like 'who's making me drink.'" I scoff.
Ryan chuckles at my response, and assumes, "Did you and Hunter get in a fight?" he asks, definitely making fun of me.
Before I answer, I take another long swig of the bottle, relishing in the feel of the burning liquid sliding down my throat. "He's an ass," I state. This time, I laugh with him.
He lightly grabs my arm, guiding me to my feet. "Come on, let's go," he leads me to the door, and in a fit of revenge towards Hunter, I follow willingly.
"Where are we going?" I question with a small giggle as he helps me into what I guess is his car.
"You'll see," he replies with a mysterious tone and unreadable eyes.
When we arrive at his home, I step out but stumble and giggle again. "Ryan, where are we going?" I repeat with a slight slur. I grip the front of his shirt as I go to fall forward.
"Easy there babe. How much did you drink?" he asks, his arms running down my arms, distracting me. Before I can answer, we are walking through the front door, and he is strolling to a couch. In a haze, I examine my surroundings, and then collapse next to Ryan. I begin to pull away a bit, conscious of our proximity, but he drags me closer where I am practically on his lap. Uncomfortably, I squirm under his touch as he runs his hand up higher on my leg. With a questioning glance, I turn to face him. My words are interrupted by his mouth colliding with mine. My emerald eyes widen to the size of golf balls, and my palms push his chest away from me but to no avail. Like a sly snake, his tongue slips into my mouth when I gasp with shock. Finding no other option, I snap my teeth down on his tongue, hard. As he pulls away quickly, he shouts a curse then turns his furious eyes to me. A wave of dread washes over me like a tsunami. "You bitch!" he shouts. I feel the sharp pain in my cheek before it registers who my attacker is. He raises his hand to strike me again, and I recoil from his beastly figure. Another stinging sensation courses through my cheek.
My pleading, petrified eyes fill to the brim with tears as I stare up at the looming fiend. "R-ryan, calm down. I-I'm sorry," I stutter, scared out of my wits. This can't be happening, not again. I intake a sharp breath when his palm connects with my now red face.
"Damn right you're sorry! You stupid whore!" he insults as another string of curses rings out. Shamefully, I hang my head, avoiding his overbearing gaze. Wrong move. I double over, clutching my stomach, as his large fist punishes me with a blow to my stomach. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he screams. Unhesitating to obey, I jerk my head up to look at his scowling face.
"Please, Ryan! P-please stop!" I beg. Streams of tears flow across my throbbing cheeks like the raging Niagara Falls. It reminds me of years ago when it happened before. It shouldn't be like this. No one should endure this.
"It's only just begun," he announces with a grin the devil would wear. He takes hold of my hair and drags me like a sack of potatoes. My hands latch onto his, furiously trying to loosen his grip on my hair. When we reach the staircase, he drop me at his feet.With a thud, my body hits the wooden floor. "Walk," he orders. Scrambling to my feet, I climb the stairs with wobbly strides. I fall, earning me a brutal kick in the side. A small wince escapes my lips that gasp for air. Hurrying to my feet, I apologize with a ramble of words. Entering what I assume to be his bedroom, he pulls my body to his as soon as he slams the door.
Immediately, his lips connect with my neck, trailing across my collarbone. My cries are silent, not aiming to anger him more. If there was even a milimeter of space between our bodies, Ryan squashed it. He walks me backwards until my back is flush with the wall. With one strong hand, he holds my two doll sized ones above my head, and with the other, he touches every inch of my skin that my clothes fails to cover. Loud gasps are heard from me as my mind recoils, but my body responds. One article of clothing after another is strewn across the room. Completely exposed now, I am roughly forced onto the bed. He towers over me for a second before beginning the torture. My screams are accompanied by groans as he ruins me.