From the Gallows | Wilbur Soot

Act Ten: The Wedding

Breathe.

I can't.

Breathe.

I'm trapped.

Breathe.

I'm suffocating.

Breathe.

This corset is too tight.

Breathe.

I'm drowning.

Breathe.

I don't look like myself.

Breathe.

I'm on fire.

Breathe.

I'm not myself.

Breathe.

The smoke is filling my lungs.

Breathe.

Is this even real?

Breathe.

The world is spinning.

Breathe.

I can't.

Breathe.

I'm not real.

Breathe.

I need to sit down.

Breathe.

Is someone trying to talk to me?

"Breathe."

"I can't."

Is that my voice?

"Breathe."

Niki's lips move, and I now realize that she's been the one saying breathe. Not one of the millions of voices in my head.

In fact, they're saying quite the opposite. They're hoping that I suffocate to death.

The world slowly comes back into focus as I listen to Niki's guiding voice.

It wasn't real. The hallucination of a wedding ending in bloodshed wasn't real. It was all in my head.

What if this is still all in my head? What if this is still a hallucination? What if I'm not back to reality yet?

Is this real, or is it all happening inside my head?

I breathe in.

I breathe out.

I release my fingers, wincing at their cramping from how hard I've been clutching the duvet that I sit on.

"Are you alright?" Niki sits down on the upholster bench beside me, her crimson eyes full of concern.

I specifically requested that as my maid of honor she would wear my signature color, but she took it to the level of changing her eyes to match mine, too.

"I-I don't-" I breathe in deeply, trembling as I do so.

I don't think I've stopped shaking since I got a glimpse in the mirror at my final look. Before now, I've managed to slow my panicking by convincing myself that this isn't real. It's all business. But looking at myself in the mirror, seeing myself as the angel on earth that Niki has made me to be, seeing the wedding dress that clings to my frame and is made from a star itself, it all feels much too real.