Water vs Blood

Holy Chapel

The Holy Chapel was much older than Daphne thought it would be, but she didn't really focus on anything since the chilling news hit her like a disaster. It took her a few hours later on to try and fight her father on it, convince him to set up a meeting with the stranger so she could convince him of a different approach to whatever reason he needed a wife for.

Her father told her that night to tell the great news to the family with as much joy and excitement as she could muster up. She did tell them the morning after, but faking things were never her strong suit and she knew her mother suspected something.

The news were very sudden and seeing as though her mother, sister and Edmund haven't even met the successful business man and Daphne never spoke of him before, they all had their suspicions for valid reason. Her mother was overly excited nonetheless and started taking over all the planning of the wedding. Daphne was thankful for that much at least, because she was in no mood to plan a wedding she was forced into.

She looked over at her mother fussing over the wrong coloured flowers and telling the caterers that the entré's were done wrong. If Daphne had to pick a family member she 'trusted' most, it would be her mother. She had a way of making most of any situation without much question.

Daphne walked over to a bench and sat down taking one deep breath. She was going to convince him to get a divorce, she had thought.

And if she couldn't convince him, she would make his life a living hell until he demand the divorce himself. It was the only idea she could think of to escape this dangerous man, but who was she fooling, if he was capable of murdering her family to get what he wanted, that plan would either end up with her funeral or her family's death.

These last two days went by far too fast for her taste. All she could do was sleep and sulk.

The funny part about this all, was that she didn't even know the name of the man she was marrying tomorrow.

She didn't know the name of her fiancé. How crazy is that?
She didn't know anything about him, except from the fact that he's Italian, he's definitely part of some gang and he wears wealthy designer clothes and watches. Oh, and don't forget that he smokes! How sad is that?

Her father had told her mother his name a few hours after the news had settled in, but she had already forgotten it. She couldn't just ask her mother what the name of her fiancee was now. Her father hadn't been home the past few days, so she couldn't bug him about it.

She checked the time on her phone. 16:03. By this time tomorrow she'll be an unwillingly married woman. What delusional things did he not have in store for her after tomorrow?
Well, she would soon find out why he so desperately needed a wife.

She felt her headaches start all over again, so she took out her pill bottle, swallowing two. Daphne rubbed her temples trying to ease some of the discomfort. These headaches were happening way too often in the past three days and she knew whose fault it was. Her clothes gave her no comfort today as she was forced into neat pants and a silky shirt.

"Daphne, the dress. Would you go pick it up? They just called to say it's ready." Her mother's voice dragged her back to the present she didn't want to be in.

"Sure." She put on an exciting smile taking the keys and the banking card from her mother's bag, leaving in a rush.

She unlocked the Porsche SUV door and slid into the drivers seat. She rested her head on the steering wheel with her hands wiping at her eyes so they don't start crying now.

She never wanted this. She barely wanted to get married. Much less to be forced into marriage because of blackmail.

She wanted love, the special kind of love. The one you ease into after years of friendship. The love that blooms like a petite flower over time and turns into something magnificent and unbreakable. Well, that's how the movies always made it look. Maybe Daphne was way in over her head and real caressing love was not a real thing.

Just then she heard a screech and a voice yell in Italian, almost as if on que.

Her head lifted and eyes scanned the parking lot when they landed on a family of Italians getting out of a car. If her father thought they were giving an image of poise and expense, he would bite back his words in an instant when he saw them. These people were dressed as if it was a fashion show and not just the day before their son, niece or brother got married. Of course THEY would be here too. She hadn't thought about it.

Daphne couldn't take it any longer and used her last bit of freedom to pull out of the parking lot and drive away. The drive was quick and nearly automatic. At one stop she couldn't stand the drumming of her headache and put on some chilled songs for background noise.

When she pulled up to the bridal shop, she parked and got out in a hurry. She wanted this to be over and done with. When she got inside she wasn't up for much chatting and the designers got the message, so she got her dress, paid for it with her father's banking card and left.

The drive back to the chapel was anything but calm. She knew the whole Italian family was going to be there now and she wasn't in the mood for faking any more smiles and meeting new faces. Where was her soon to be husband in all this?

She called her mom and she picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Mom." Daphne spoke into the speaker. "Can I maybe go home and lie down, maybe take a bath? I'll come pick you up when you're done." Daphne asks with hope that her mother will agree.

"Of course, no need to come pick me up, I'll ask your father or Edmund for a lift." She ended the call and Daphne took a big breath of relief.

The drive home was much better knowing she had the house to herself and enough time to calm her racing heart and churning stomach.

The bath she finally drew herself was even better as it soothed the aching in her muscles. She stayed in the bath for at least an hour, refilling the tub with warm water every time it got cold.

When she checked the time it was way past seven so she finally decided to leave the bathroom in her towel and go to her room.

The sight of the velvet box on the bed made nerves flair up again.
Maybe she should just try the dress on, she convinced herself that she might feel better.

The designer dress was perfectly made to her exact measurement and she was careful to put it on. The lace up behind was tough to tie on her own, but she succeeded.

When she was finally settled inside the dress, she looked at herself in the mirror. This was the first time she actually looked for more than five seconds.

She looked nice and for once she felt pretty. Her eyes start to tear up as she holds onto her stomach, her finger tracing where the scar would be. The small pearls embroidered into the sleeves and bust area were her favourite. The corset really showed her curves that she kept hidden in her oversized clothes.

Why did this have to happen to her?

She took off the damned wedding dress and tossed it carelessly back into the box. She contemplated on destroying the dress just to show him that he had no control over her whatsoever, but she couldn't bring herself to. It was after all her father's money -At least she could feel pretty tomorrow.

And there she fell down on her bed, the bride to be, crying the night before her wedding, because she thought she could one day escape what she was born into.
Cruelty.