Today was the day, the day that would change my life for the better. I looked at myself in the tall mirror. My long white, lace gown reached the hardwood floor, along with the veil going down my back. My hair was perfectly pinned up in a bun, gold leaves accenting it perfectly.
"You ready?" My mom asked, opening the door. I nodded and walked to the giant church doors. My hands started shaking. They finally opened and everyone stood up. And there he was. His eyes brightened and his lips curved into a smile. So, did mine. Like a star by Corrine Bailey Rae played as I walked down the isle. I could see Harry wiping some tears; I did too. I reached him; our hands were holding and the pastor started to read his prepared words. Then, it came to the vows.
"I, Harry Edward Styles, promise to love, protect, and respect you for the rest of my days: in good ones, or bad, in sickness, or in health, until the day I die and beyond."
"You're turn Scarlett," the pastor said.
"I, Scarlett Jane Wright, promise to love, protect, and respect you for the rest of my days: in good ones, or bad, in sickness, or in health, until the day I die and beyond." I smiled, looking up at the man I love.
"By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you man, and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Harry placed his hands on my cheeks and kissed me. And there they were again: the sparks, fireworks, the whole deal. Everyone cheered. "Witnesses, I now give you Mr. and Mrs. Harry Styles!"
****
The reception was booming. Everyone was dancing, having a good time. And I was married to the man I knew I'd spend my entire life with. Just coming off the dance floor, Harry and I sat at our elevated table. We started whispering to each other when a waiter came up to us and gave us a note. "Mrs? This was left at the door. It's addressed to you. The woman who left it said it was very urgent." Of course, we were both invested in it so I opened the letter and read it aloud.
"Dear Harry Styles, this is the coroner at St. Fromm's Memorial Hospital. We regret to inform you that we have concluded our search for your sister, Evelyn Styles' remains. The second body we found at the sight, besides Max Stevens, is still unknown to us. We will need to run some more tests. The police will be notified by the end of the day. Please contact us as soon as possible."
We looked up at each other. My eyes widened. "She can't be... I saw her die." I shook my head.
"Did we?"
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Stockholm Syndrome
Mystery / ThrillerStock·holm syn·drome (n.) Feelings of trust or affection felt in certain cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim toward a captor.
