Cursed To Be His Bride ✔️

Chapter Eighteen: Lisa

Miseries shape the best and worst parts of a human being.

That was the sympathy I gave myself at the wretched moments that tore my will apart like an old piece of clothing.

The only fact I was aware about was that the ground beneath me was jerking left and right. Along with my body, my mind was shifting from one thought to other until it came and dwelled on the one I’d decided to get rid of the night before.

I tried to remember my last memory before losing my consciousness, before the pain took over.

I remembered being carried in arms . . . the wind broke through my face as I'd clutched onto him firmly, losing myself in a deep slumber.

My eyes shot open and I was utterly sober.

I met with a vast sky gleaming with yellow and blue shades of clouds with a few black wings wandering towards their objective.

My eyes felt heavy and the dust in them approached the corners as my fingers rubbed the drowsiness away.

The sun was still making it hard to keep my will of not turning around and sleep again.

With much efforts I was able to get where I’d wanted myself but the sore in my back brought back terrible memories.

Flashes of the doomed night made me cringe and a sudden brush of wind on my revealed skin made me crumple up into a ball.

I looked over my shoulder and saw wood. I was sleeping on wood and not the kind you could make a bed out of.

Further inception brought the certainty of a kidnapping.

I realized the ground wasn't actually ground but we're floating on a boat. We?

Yes. Edward was gazing down at me which at first freaked me out.

I held myself up on my arms as he stretched out his hand to help me but I was just too annoyed at him at the moment.

I'd gotten almost killed the previous night! Not to mention Jenna . . . Don’t.

"How do you feel?" He asked taking his unused hand back.

Was he serious? How did I feel? I felt messed up! I was forced into kissing someone then I was treated like nothing but a stupid parcel to be dispatched soon.

My only parent was killed by a bloodthirsty egoistic maniac and I had a freaking knife through my back by some stupid saviors of humans!

How was that supposed to make me feel?

But of course, why would he be interested in hearing my whining?

"I'm great." I smiled angrily.

Without a doubt he noticed the sarcasm in my voice but I didn't feel sorry for once. For the mess he'd put me in, he owed me that.

He didn't bother to continue the conversation and kept sailing the boat before we found the land.

It was an island sort of place but the river wasn’t that deep or vast as the sky above. The water was cold underneath my touch with white and pinkish lotuses exploring the place.

There was no house or a cottage and surely not a castle so it wasn’t the time for my bargaining.

But then where was I?

He took my hand as soon as he stopped and jumped off the boat to the ground. He almost hurled me along with his body with my arm gripped between his fists.

"Easy." I protested.

I could still feel the sting on my back but I wasn't sure if looking was a good idea. What if the blood or nastiness of the wound gave me another tour of my subconscious mind?