Cruel Sanctuary

Chapter 31

The saying that 'forever starts today' particularly resonates with me. After last night's uproar, it is evident that Owen and I shall not be married for longer than we absolutely have to be; maybe 'forever' isn't the right word to describe it but it does describe how far away happiness feels for me.

A wall of jelly separates me from my destiny — my prosperity — so much so that it will take 'forever' for me to wade through and grasp it. I can see it, I know what to do but I just cannot get to it. Similarly, I can see my euphoria, I know that I must cancel the wedding to get it but I just cannot simply do that. My mother's life is at stake!

Thoughts have rushed through my mind like a tube train, however, they all end up in the same train wreck, like the butterfly effect. One came, then crashed. Another comes, then crashed into the other. Another comes, then crashed into the other. So on, until I find myself pulling out the remnants of bliss like corpses from the wreckage. Every possibility to remove myself from this unwanted situation has been considered thoroughly but, either way, someone besides myself experiences a loss. How selfish would I have to be to sanction off others' well-being for my own?

Interrupting my intrusive thoughts, light fills my bedroom like a liquid fills its container, "Wake up, honey! Today is the big day!" My mother's relieving voice chimes with her oxygen cart wheels squeaking for support and I roll around to face her as she sits down on my bed (with Dr Lydia Davison's help, of course), "Morning, mum," I attempt a half smile but my mum sees right through it.

My heart falls with her face, "What's wrong?" She asks me, her voice hollow with regret. My mum knew what was coming, she must've been suspecting it for quite some time, "We had a fight. It was bad but it'll get better, don't worry," I flash a ghost of a smile at her and she sighs, tilting her head in defeat.

A cold, clammy hand reaches out to my bicep and she strokes my skin tenderly, "Honey, I'm so thankful for what you're giving up for me. If you don't want to do this, we won't force you." That's my mother effectively forcing me to go through with the marriage. Craftily, she's used my weakness; family. I would give anything for my family, even if it is at the cost of my freedom.

Sighing, I slide from my bed, away from her broken gaze, "Mum, you know I'll do it. I just wish you weren't asking for so much," I confess hesitantly. Obviously, I don't want to risk my relationship with my mother but honesty is the best policy — or that's what she'd brought me up to believe.

Dr Lydia hurries over at her sign of distress, offering a supporting arm for my mother's weak body to use as a human walking frame but she bats her away with a careless flick of her hand and Lydia retreats, "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't vital, Skylar." Her stern look washes over me and I turn around to look in the mirror. My ribs are showing, my arms hang limply, my scrawny legs delicately support my sheer skin and bone; there is nothing else left to me, only scrappy molecules of meat on a fragile bone.

Gulping, I swallow my pride, "I'm sorry, mum," She smiles, although knowing full well that she is manipulating the situation in her favour. Sighing, I begin to trudge to my bedroom door, "I need something to tide me over," I state, exitting the room whilst praying to the Holy Trinity that Owen is still snoring away in his inviting bed.

Nothing looks appetising. Everything looks unpaltable as I do insipid. What if I don't fit into my dress? What if my dress doesn't look as beautiful as I remember? What if the ceremony turns to fire? What if I simply cannot do this? "If you're not going to eat, move." A cold, harshly toned voice snaps from behind me and I rapidly spin around in response, "If you're not going to be pleasant, fuck off," I hiss before storming from the kitchen, not forgetting to slam my stunted body weight into his muscular shoulder.

Much to my dismay, Lydia and my mother had taken the liberty to hang my carefully selected wedding dress onto the outside of the oak door leading to my walk-in closet. Sighing, I rub my eyes, trying to swipe away the tainted sight from my sagging eyes, "I'm showering," I bluntly announce and lock myself away in the bathroom for as long as I can get away with.