Delicate fabric slid over my skin, cascading downwards like a waterfall. My hair was brushed out, each stroke of the comb a smooth and silky motion. Blush was applied to my cheeks and my eyelashes were accentuated with mascara. Daring red painted my lips, losing the pale pink and becoming bold. A veil was placed on my head, the soft material kissing my skin. My feet were shod in angelic-white high heels, with hundreds of tiny gems decorating the surface.
As I stood up in full dress, the team of make-up artists, hairdressers, stylists and assistants, gasped in pure admiration. Every part of my skin had been moisturized. My hair had been styled in a fashion, which framed my face, plaits bordering sides of my cheeks. The dress was a miracle of inter-crossing straps at the back, supporting the dress itself, which billowed outwards.
My train was long, the smooth white material hiding the petticoat of many layered skirts underneath. The bodice shined with sparkling beads, and as I breathed in and out, the sound of the beads tinkling slightly was heard. Lastly, my face was accentuated with blemish-free skin, a red blush, painted lips, outlined eyes and the finishing touch of the caressing material of my veil, that held my face in mystery.
I was dazzling. I was beautiful.
I was alien.
This girl, with the white costume, toned and smooth body, and the perfect portrait of a face was a shaped being designed only in imagination. A masterpiece: that wasn't me.
"They're ready for her."
Whispers and I was ushered out of the tent, to be greeted with a terrifying sight. Set on the outside gardens of my prison, Raxis's massive mansion resided in the background, the center of the Games. Trees bordered this mocking scene, as tall dark and intimidating as the wedding symbolized itself. Hundreds of chairs were placed in careful positions, the many guests staring back at me in expressions of admiration, pity and sadness.
Balloons were floating around the wedding scene, white balloons with black strings. The purity of the idea, yet tangled together with the horrific darkness of it all. Farthest away from me, at the end of my wedding aisle, was the minister, groom and best man. Waiting for me with his arm outstretched, was my father, dressed in a white suit and a somber expression. The agony in his eyes was terrible to see; it frightened me to no end.
The grassy ground was unforgiving on my heels, and combined with my complete loss of sense and mind, I would have collapsed if it wasn't for the two stylists at either arm, holding me up. I didn't have time for any other observations before Pachelbel’s Canon began, and I was prodded into the wedding march, like cattle being herded into pens. My father waited for me by the side. This was where I would begin the walk up the aisle.
Gliding. My father's arm was all that held me from falling to my knees and I felt like I was losing my mind, piece by piece. The aisle was scattered with white rose petals and yet was harder to walk than a path of knives. As I looked up from the fast receding strip of green and white, I saw two men that had twisted my life and my will away from me.
Liam was clothed like he was an angel. Shining in white, he watched me as I proceeded forward. Waiting for me to reach the altar. His eyes were marked with wonder as he took in my ensemble. As our eyes met, I could see a future.
Walking down the aisle as if I couldn't wait for the end. Anxious, even, for my feet to no longer tread the path. This aisle was the beginning of a beautiful new era. A joining. Then, I was there. His hand reached out for mine, and I could feel the relief he exuded through the slump of his once tightly held shoulders, that he never wanted to let me go again. As he spoke the words of holy matrimony and I repeated it with a feverish wish, we neared the ceremony's end.
By bidding of the priest, Liam lifted the veil off my face. Taking me into his arms, he kissed me. The guests vanished and I was alone with my husband. Blissfully entrapped into this kiss, a union of two souls was forged.
Until death do us part.
We would now be together until death parted us, the black sweeping away my white world.
Gone. A future that could never happen scattered away as my father gave my trembling hand to another. Not the familiar and soft hand of the best man. But, the pale cold and hungry grasp of the groom. A high cold laugh rang in my ears. I saw Raxis, dressed in the key white, contrasting with his eyes and hair of endless black.
The priest- a man with presence and a sacred book- began prompting an escalade of promises, spilling out of Raxis and I's mouths. I didn't see anything but Raxis's eyes which entrapped me. They held me utterly helpless. A tight knot twisted in the pit of my stomach as the priest chanted the endings of the rites.
"I do." Raxis spoke with a musical intonation and a dark excitement. Then the priest intoned the same words and looked towards me; it was my turn now. Suddenly, all I could fell was sunlight warming the bare areas of my skin and the way the wind soothed me, a delicious wave of calm. Instead of Raxis's dark eyes, I could see Liam's light ones. Golden-brown hair, cool green eyes and arms that could hold me forever.
Ah...but the words. The priest’s prompts reverberated in my ears and painstakingly dragged my mouth into the appropriate mouthing.
"I do." The words were out there. Glistening like night-black diamonds in the air. Everyone could see them. Markings of my shame.
"You may now kiss the bride." The fatal blows poisoned my heart and I fought the urge to let my mind slowly collapse under this great burden I was carrying. A sobbing started to ring out in this atmosphere. Trying to find the unearthly cries, my heart seemed to shatter with the added pressure. My mother was weeping whole-heartedly, her eyes releasing a thousand broken hopes and dreams. I hadn't seen her cry like this since Carmen. I was dying just like my sister did.
Desperation passed between mother and daughter; fear turning our expressions into twisted masks of pain. We didn't know what had happened. Then, a hand directed my chin to face back to the groom. A cold and calculating man: my husband. As he leant in for the kiss, all I could see was Liam looking upon me and all I could hear was the sound of my mother's cries.
His lips bleached and dyed my soul, blackening my mind along with it. Demonic threads weaved their way to the core of my brain, spreading sadness, anger, fear and horror, all throughout. The good and the pure was shriveled away to dust. The hope was beaten down to have it yield itself. A battle was waging itself inside my mind and I was losing. Raxis's soldiers swept everywhere, demolishing and killing and breaking. My own white waifs were lost to his might: too weak, too pathetic and too frail.
As he broke off the kiss, I saw the wedding had undergone a dramatic transformation. No longer the white mockery- a fox in sheep's clothing- it reveled in its true nature: black. Every shred of the pure colour had been leeched away and was replaced with Raxis's foul signature. Raxis's suit was changed into a groom's key black, but his dress shirt was dyed with the same, no chance of traditional playing its part.
And....my dress.... the innocent white had fled. Black was in the motions of spiraling through the white and spreading like ink all over. The beads that decorated the bodice became glassy obsidian. Soon, everything but my body was black. I was a partner in Raxis's evil. I was a messenger that brought only death. Everything was black.
I had become twisted.
I had become polluted.
I had become his.
---------------------------------
The honeymoon had commenced. Robbing me of my goodbyes, Raxis had taken my hand and the ceremony of black had vanished. So much for the reception, I thought absently now, remembering the taste testing.
A forest replaced the wedding, the sunlight dying out in the tall cluster of trees. Shadows cast fateful darkness, light fading away. I could see a crescent moon in the night-sky, only a sliver of light in this hell. Raxis let go of my hand now, his eyes already focused on the next chapter of the wedding.
While traipsing the forest, Raxis informed me of the guests' next destination. The Games. The reception wouldn't go to waste, he told me. The guests would enjoy them in an elaborate wedding set up. The reception would be set up and they would all sit unsuspectingly. The monsters would come out. And ten would be killed.
My parents and the best man would be exempt, however. They would preside over as simple and powerless spectators. It was all I could do to take this in. With the ghostly background of the honeymoon and the unstoppable stream of words from Raxis's mouth, I felt that I couldn't understand. Death had become so commonplace.
A present anxiety overthrew the pang I felt for my hapless guests. What happened to me now?
The answer came swiftly.
"I'm going to play some games," Raxis announced. No longer striding ahead through the forest's growth, he turned back to me, his eyes appraising me. "Tell me what you want."
What I wanted? To be free? To be happy? To be gone? So many things that I wanted. What purpose was there in saying?
"Tell me what you desire," Raxis said, his voice low and hushed. "Tell me what you really want."
The words frightened me. The way he said it and the way he was looking at me. Like he was trying to look inside of my soul and take a piece of it with him.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know." I shivered, my arms wrapping around my shoulders. The dress felt heavy; I wanted to give up and let it drag me towards the ground. Sleep a thousand lifetimes. And never have to suffer like this. Raxis touched a strand of hair, which had escaped from its prison of styled hair. Tucking it behind my ear, almost affectionate. He placed his lips near my ear, then whispered back,
"Liar." Leaving the word scrambling my mind, he pulled back and walked around me. Circling me as he readied himself to strike. I was an animal; he was the human. Soon, he would pounce.
Liar. There were so many things that I was, but I didn't think liar belonged in my repertoire. I didn't know what I wanted. Happiness, freedom or solitude? Quietly, I uttered each word, hoping they were ones he would seize as adequate. Why would I want things now? I couldn't have them. I needed them, but I couldn't have them.
"Not good enough," he grinned, as if we were playing an amiable game. "Something direct, something tangible."
"Something alive."
All at once, I saw what he was trying to get me to see. Liam. How stupid I was. But…. Liam….was he really what I desired most in the world? Love colored my perception of the question and I looked away from Raxis. At the realization, I felt selfish. How could I love a boy more than my own family? How could I even love him?
“Tell me,” Raxis commanded. “Tell me what it is.”
I shook my head, still staring at the earthy ground. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t give it up. Instead, I sank to the dirt, and let it roughly scratch against my legs as I settled down. My dress was a black balloon, billowing outwards and covering my lower body from view.
Raxis made a noise in disapproval and I found my eyes raising upwards and watching how his hand twisted suddenly. I jerked up to my feet, clutching my mouth as I resisted the swell of vomit, which spiraled, up my throat at the sudden movement.
“Tell me,” he persisted. I shook my head again in stupid defiance, not wanting to let him have the satisfaction. Stupid; it would happen anyway. He made the sharp hand gesture again and I coughed violently. I fell to my knees, and vomited unceremoniously on the ground, splattering the ground. What did he do to me?
“Liam,” I choked out, terrified. Instead of a mocking reply, gloating at his easily found success, I heard silence. Wiping the bile off my mouth, I looked upwards to catch the puzzled look on Raxis’s face.
He didn’t know what was wrong with me.
Grabbing my wrist and pulling me to my feet, he held his hand a few inches from me and waved it slowly around my body. Scared, I got the feeling he was scanning me. Like, something would beep and he would know the answer.
I was just sick because of the fear. It was nothing.
With apprehension, I saw how his face lit up, like he had received an enormous surprise. Was I ok? What was wrong with me? Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn’t he tell me!?
“What is it?” I said wildly, stepping out of his grasp. “Tell me, what did you find?” Now I was the interrogator, and yet I held no power. He held everything with his little answer.
It could be fear sickness; I formed answers in my head wildly. The flu, a bug or something else normal. I was letting all of this go to my head. I needed to calm down. Raxis knew that this was driving me crazy; he wanted this to drive me crazy. I needed to chill.
“Oh, this is gold,” Raxis laughed, running fingers through his hair. “Not in my wildest imaginings.”
I didn’t rise to the bait. Knowing his antics, he would lose interest in the game and stop teasing me. It was probably nothing. He was just playing the games as he always did. I wouldn’t ask what it was. He wouldn’t tell me anyway.
“We need to return,” he said suddenly, reaching out for my hand, to spirit me back to my prison. I sidestepped out of his searching hand. I changed my mind. I wanted to know, and I wanted to know now.
“Not until you tell me,” I pronounced, feeling bright spots of red color my cheeks. I felt dizzy for some reason. Like I had been whirling in circles for a long time. Placing my hand on a nearby tree trunk, I took support from it and directed my gaze back to him. “What’s so wrong with me, that we have to cut back on the honeymoon? You had so many things planned.”
Though there was a hint of teasing in my tone, there was anything but writhing inside me. I was scared. Of what he had to say. Yes, I knew he was deliberately driving me up the wall. But I was still scared. A million diseases ran through my mind. I didn’t want to think about what happened to victims of those diseases. I could be one of them.
Raxis smiled, practically seeing the crazy thoughts I had. Hell, he probably could hear them. He leant forward and this time I didn’t scatter away. And then, he told me.
I was shocked. Stunned. Terrified. Scared. Out of my mind.
What?
He laughed again, whole-hearted laughing. Raxis couldn’t have made up a better scenario. What was better than my utter pain? This was something only I could do to myself.
“You’re lying,” I said. It came out hushed, as if I couldn’t raise my voice now that I knew. “This…this isn’t true.”
“I could never make something up this good,” Raxis said, though I knew he could. Somehow, I believed him. With the disbelief coloring his tone and his broad smile, I could see how he couldn’t believe his luck. Because a scenario of my sickness just added to his happiness.
Then, he touched his hand lightly to mine. I didn’t even struggle as he did so, and as we reappeared back at the mansion. I was too shocked. I couldn’t hear anything. It played like a silent movie; Mum was running towards me. Was that relief? Enveloping me in her arms and then she pulled back. I was too stiff. Too cold. She was wondering what was wrong with me.
I could see her mouth moving but I couldn’t hear the words. She was scared. She shook me gently, trying to get me to speak. Dad came to her side and instead of her sadness, he was angry. I imagined he was asking what the hell had been done to me, as he gripped Raxis by his suit’s lapels. Both of them were so scared. I wasn’t replying. I wasn’t alive.
It was all too much. I sank to the ground, tumbling over myself. They all huddled over me, yelling questions. Faces and mouths and unheard questions and expressions that morphed and changed every moment. I could see Dad about to throw a punch at Raxis. Raxis was still laughing and as if it was slow motion, our eyes connected. He was so happy. Then, he spun, blurring before me, and caught my father’s fist.
I couldn’t see anymore because the crush of people gathered around me thickened. I didn’t think I could breathe. They were all so worried. I couldn’t breathe. How could this happen? I hadn’t… oh God. No. NO! It couldn’t be. This…no…but, I didn’t think…no… Tears flowed down my cheeks. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want my body changing…. sickening…. morphing. I didn’t want this!
Closing my eyes, like I could rid the truth, I collapsed into unconsciousness. I let the darkness wrap its claws around my mind. I wanted to sleep.
How could this happen to me?
-------------------------------
People flitted in and out of my room. They never looked directly at me. I didn’t know whether they pitied me or they were scared to catch it. As if they could. Raxis never made an appearance, which surprised me as much as relieved; gloating was his favorite sport.
I stayed in the bed, in its warm rich red covers. It was safer than outside and I just felt too tired. There was a basin by the bed that I knew was for more vomiting. I had already used it three times. Servants came to clean it every once in awhile but until then, I could smell the stench of my sickness.
How had all of this come so quickly? I was so confused. And yet, I remembered. Though they weren’t notable parts of my day, I had begun to feel dizzy. Vomiting had happened a couple of times before, but I had passed it off as a bug. Anything else than this. How could I have imagined this?
My parents came once. Mum was weeping openly and she still tried to wipe her tears away and control herself for me. They asked questions that I didn’t want to ask. They only wanted to help. They wanted to know everything about it. I never answered them. It was so painful.
Just the name hurt me. What could open discussion do?
After ten minutes of one-sided questioning, Mum left, squeezing my hand before she exited my sick room. Dad sat at the side of my bed. Through the corner of my eyes, I could see he was breathing heavily, like he was preparing for a massive speech.
It wasn’t.
It was worse.
He started to cry, following suit to my mum. I didn’t know what to do. I…. I was useless to his open agony. He spoke in a voice punctuated by his crying and his shoulders shook with every word he spoke. He always wanted me to be happy. To be safe. That was what every father wanted for his children. And yet, he had failed Carmen and me. He had let us down. He was sorry.
I stopped him at that point, not wanting to let him blame himself further. Sitting up weakly, I placed my hand on his.
“Stop.” Speaking was cut short and we leant our foreheads to each other and cried together. We were father and daughter. We were love in its pure symbolic form.
This was better than the questions. Just silence in its appreciated form.
Mum and Dad didn’t visit me after that. I didn’t know why. I missed them. Somehow, I blamed myself for their continual avoidance, warding them away by my silence. Instead of finding them out, I slept. It was easier than facing the world and all of its questions.
Liam didn’t visit at all. I don’t know if he heard about what happened. I didn’t know if he was in a cell being tortured. I didn’t know anything. I was cut off from the world. All by myself and with no one to harm or hurt me.
Though, the harm had already been done. And I would hurt for the rest of my life for this occurrence. There would be no getting away from this.
I laughed without humor, thinking of how my life had turned out. I wanted to be a fricking dinosaur when I was younger. Imagine what my younger self would have said to this. Probably run off and hide in a hole.
I imagined what this…. disease would do to my body. Throwing up seemed like a regular event at Club Danielle right now, seeing how I seemed to upchuck once a day in my little Vomit Bucket. What else would it do to me? I didn’t know that much, just the dreaded name. I hadn’t researched the bloody thing. Why would I? Before, I had no reason to.
Food arrived too. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Suppose it was a good thing they were feeding me. Sometimes I scarfed it down hungrily, in three seconds flat. Other times, I was reserved and nauseated, the smell of it making my stomach grow weak.
Boredom was inevitable. All I did was sleep and vomit and miserably maintain my bodily functions. My sick room was richly decorated: antique furniture situated at key areas of the room such as a writing desk, a bookshelf and what I thought to be a coffee table. The writing desk had no writing instruments or paper, the bookshelf housed many novels but only in every other language apart from English and the coffee table…. was a coffee table.
So, I amused myself by staring at the curtains and occasionally the light from the outside world when one of the servants cared to draw the curtains for me. I tried to have dreamy sleep and utterly failed. And I tried to wrest my mind from the thoughts of my sickness. Despite my efforts, I thought about it every waking second of my life and it even plagued my nightmares.
One particular day, in an escalade of many, a new visitor came to breach my bored sanctuary. It was dark at first, the curtains closed; I wasn’t in the mood for the sun today, it was stuffy enough in this heavily blanketed bed. There was a knock on the day, one I almost did not hear as I listened to a stray lawn mower outside, doing its merciless duty on the mansion’s garden's grass.
“May I come in?” The voice was hidden partly, as the thick wooden door muffled the various accents and emphasis that different people have with their words. Absently wondering if I could just ignore them, I ruled against it, being poorly starved of entertainment. Yelling a word of encouragement, I heard the entrance door creak open.
The visitor walked in with a silent tread; were they tiptoeing? The absence of sunlight made it difficult to see their discerning features and so, I had no idea of the identity of my newfound entertainment. It became clear when the curtains were dragged open, with absolutely no regard for my pleasing or not.
“Naomi,” I said, my tone clipped with annoyance. “I would say it’s nice to see you, but it’s not.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” she smiled back, leaning over my bedstead, her blonde swatch of hair hanging over the ornate wooden bed support.
“Why, may I ask, would you visit my humble bedchamber?” I asked, heavily sarcastic.
“Not for the company, that’s for sure,” Naomi sallied back, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Not for the environment, that’s definite as well. God, what smells so disgusting?”
“I believe it may be the mixed explosion of the stench of vomit,” I pointed helpfully at the Bucket. “And my Waste Bucket.” Again, I pointed to the partially hidden bucket of waste. She made a puking face, and I shrugged, indifferent.
“That is puerile,” she stated with the utmost disgust. “Ever heard of a toilet?”
“Ah, but my chamber doesn’t have an en-suite,” I sighed sadly. “I’ve had to make do.”
We were in silence for a while and I hoped that she would make her exit swiftly. There was only so much of the she-demon I could take.
And it wasn’t much.
“You’re really bedridden then,” she said, perusing my state with interest. “You’re stuck in this room because of your…”
“Sickness, yes,” I smiled pointedly, hating the subject already.
“So, the rumors are true then?” she said light-heartedly, a hint of happiness dancing in her eyes.
“Oh, yes,” I replied, through clenched teeth. “No competition with Raxis now. This must be your wildest dream.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say my wildest,” she smirked. “But, it’s fairly high up on the list."
“What do you want, Naomi?” I asked, the fake smiles and banter making a sharp departure. “We’re not exactly the best of friends so there must be some other reason for your visit.”
“Oh past the chitchat already?” she clutched at her chest dramatically. “I’m wounded.”
“Get on with it.”
“Fine, fine,” she said breezily. “You’ve been summoned.”
I did a double take. “What?”
“Raxis wants to see you. Must want to watch the movie of Your Tragic Life And How It Ended.”
“When?”
Pausing purposefully to annoy me, she let her hand draw a line on the bedstead back and forward. “Hmm…. he might have said…. now.”
“And if I refuse?” I asked, leaning back on the bed, my arms crossed.
“He’ll get a servant to drag you to him.”
Expected, really. Despite my supposed bravado, I was scared. I felt so fragile. Before, in my wedding dress, I had been different. Even though it had become to set in, I had still been healthy looking. I still looked like me. But now, with the weeks I had spent in this hell, I was perpetually tired, I was sick and I could feel my body changing and my mind- weakening- as my sickness wrested control over me.
I didn’t want everyone to see me like that. Weak and helpless. It was easier before, even with Raxis. I was strong in physique; I had been beautiful. Under these heavy covers, lay my body now, ripped from before. My hair was a mess and hadn’t been brushed in eons. I was paler now, like it was taking a toll on my once tan skin.
“Do you need help getting to your feet?” Naomi smirked. Though the idea of her helping me might have been repugnant to her, she liked lording it over me that I might actually need help just to walk. I shook my head fiercely at her request. I would do this. I could do this. I had to.
Throwing the covers off, I realized how cold it was. My nightgown was a simple white dress, long enough that the end kissed my ankles. Lace decorated the top and the end, but offered little warmth. I looked around for a dressing gown, but in vain, seeing how there was nothing for me.
Naomi smiled at me, and then strode to the door, knowing I would follow. Taking a few deep breaths and trying to stop my knees shaking, I walked unsteadily towards the exit. My progress was unbalanced and I stumbled once, my hand slamming upon on the head of the bed as I did so. My arm trembling as slowly pushed myself away from the support; I walked to the door.
The she demon was framed by darkness, her blonde wash of hair glowing slightly. Like an angel, I thought wryly. And yet, anything but. My legs grew stronger with each step, so I ignored her mocking outstretched hand and proceeded forward out the door.
As I left the sickroom which I had been ensconced on for scores of days, I was struck by the outside environment. Black balloons, the very same as the wedding, were floating everywhere. As if this was a celebration, the balloons dangled around the corridor, providing a grisly welcome back.
I heard a low laugh from Naomi, as she saw my shocked face. My expression tightened and I looked away from the balloons and walked past her, knowing my destination. Raxis would call me to the Dining Room: where breakfast, lunch and dinner was served. I felt much stronger with the exercise I took, though my gait was not as confident as I would have liked. It was suspected, with what was happening to me.
The stares and the whispers began when the first cluster of servants passed me. Gaping with open mouths, shame seemed to desert them, as they took I that Raxis’s wife was up and walking. It was practically like I was a zombie. I hoped I wasn’t so discomposed that I had the same physical appearance as one of the walking dead.
The gossip buzzed around me, regardless. A weak Danielle with the she-demon following, was a matter of much speculation. Why was she up? I was sure that my sickness was a common-place subject to talk of now. Now, I was fuelling the gossip’s mouths, spinning the wheel of rumors and servant chat as I began the first walk in weeks.
“Isn’t she…?”
“Yes, she’s the one. Raxis’s wife.”
“That poor girl…”
“Can you believe it?”
“Where’s she going?”
"Do you think....he did it to her?"
"She looks terrible."
I heard all of their words, my ears still firmly in action. I wasn’t so sick that I couldn’t hear all their questions and see their searching glances and imagine their thoughts of wonder. I didn’t like it. Being the center of attention was exactly what I wanted to avoid. But how could I? Everyone knew me. Everyone knew the battle already happening inside my body. Everyone could see.
Soon, the double doors of the Dining Room came into my view. I sighed in profound relief; this ordeal would be over. The door servants noted my arrival with widely displayed shock however, and when they opened the doors for me with their stunned expressions, I saw how very wrong I was.
The Dining Room was not chock full with a million people: gasping, pointing and oohing and ahing. It was worse. My parents, Liam and Raxis presided over a grand feast. Though the food looked well cooked, I regarded it with absolute revulsion. My stomach turned at the sight of all that food, laden extravagantly on the wooden table. It made me want to retch.
At the head of the table, Raxis sat in his chair, looking pleased. My parents were seated two spaces away, together. Their shoulders were hunched over and I wondered if they were ashamed of me. Lastly, Liam sat next to my mother, as far away from Raxis as possible. He didn’t look up as I entered and instead studiously stared at the roast chicken in front of him. I couldn’t see his expression.
Naomi passed me, standing in the entrance, and slinked off to sit at Raxis’s right hand seat. He smiled indulgently at her, all pointed teeth and ownership. Then the demon gestured to his left, where a seat had been made for me. I nodded absently, and started walking to his seat. Everyone just watched as I made a trembling journey to the table.
“How are you, my dear?” Raxis asked, laying a hand over mine. Part of reflex, I moved my hands away and avoided his eyes when I replied.
“I’m fine.” I hated the patronizing tone in his voice. Like he cared about his well being. This episode of my life would be an exciting one for him to watch, and he would do so happily, until its dreaded end. I was a puppet nailed to a table, dancing for his entertainment. Every time he poked me, I wriggled more and more.
“Get Danielle some food,” he ordered one of the servants on hand. “Make sure she has plenty of everything.”
“I don’t want anything,” I muttered under my breath, suddenly feeling so tired all of a sudden. Raxis stopped in his running commands for the servant and turned to me with an incomprehensible look in his eye.
“What did you say sweetheart?”
“I don’t,” I uttered loudly, digging my fingernails into my palm. “Want any food. I’m not hungry.”
“Ah, Danielle,” he said slowly. “Remember your body needs plenty of nutrients. It wouldn’t be healthy for you to-“
“She said she didn’t want any food!” Liam spoke out, his eyes flashing with anger as he locked into combat with Raxis. Surprise was my key emotion at the current moment, as well as a dose of fear. Raxis wouldn’t hurt Liam now would he? Would he? One step out of line…. Liam wouldn’t know where the line began and it would be too late.
“I think I can deal with my wife’s needs better than you,” Raxis sneered at Liam, though the title he afforded meant nothing. “The poor little thing needs taking care of in her sensitive state.” I felt like my breathing was harder to maintain and soon, each breath felt harsh and ragged and horrible.
I couldn’t deal with this, I thought in a panic. It was all too much right now. I wanted to be back in my bed and not have to be here. I didn’t want this now. I didn’t need this right now! The two men continued to argue over me and I sank to the table, my head resting on the cool mahogany surface.
The words flying over my head were faster and flurried. It scared me; I wished I could stop the fight and just rest in peace. But I couldn’t. This was what would happen now. I had brought this all upon myself.
For once, I let my eyes trail down to my stomach. It had been there for months and I hadn’t noticed. Growing inside of me. My hand rested on the small bump in my stomach.
Say it, Danielle, I thought, tears blurring my vision.
I was pregnant.
Author's Note: Tell me when did you guess she was pregnant? In a comment below, please tell me which part you figured it out and if it was the last line: that just means I'm fantabulous at mystery. I tried writing it so you didn't guess about it for ages, you probably didn't suspect anything in the following chapters- though the clues were she was acting very erratic and crazy, with strange ups and downs.
Love to catch a line or two from any fan in the comments; remember, 15 comments= next chapter and more on Danielle's pregnancy!