Jackie Simmons
Tomorrow would be my wedding day, and Brad was still rude to me but nevertheless, he gradually started to accept that our engagement would still be happening. He was constantly disrespectful, but at the same time, he did things that showed that he was slowly accepting me. He started to do things for me such as buy food for me whenever we went out to eat or pick me up when we are going somewhere. While I knew this was nothing to be excited over, I was happy that our time together didn't resemble him calling me pathetic and with me crying. It was a breath of fresh air to feel somewhat calm after the terrifying storm that occurred when I initially met him.
I noticed some change in his behavior towards me, but I was so pathetic because even though I know Brad hates me very much, I fell for every kind, small gesture he does. I knew he was only doing it out of spite and because he would rather not spend his time arguing, but I couldn't help myself. I did not know how to control these feelings, and that petrified me. Was I weak? Or was I just fascinated by his looks?
The marriage would be held inside a chapel, and everyone would be there including family, news reporters, and friends of the family. I was nervous, as always, because there would be at least five hundred people there. But I was also a little excited because this would be my very first and only wedding ever. Maybe this could be a start to a new life, and quite frankly, a chance to escape parental control. I love my parents, but everything about my bittersweet situation with Brad could be blamed on my parents.
But at the same time, even though my wedding was arranged by my parents, I still wanted it to be fun. I felt very neutral about the whole wedding, and honestly, I hoped and prayed to God that I could leave behind my old life and start a newer and happier life.
The only problem was I knew how Brad felt about the marriage, and he most certainly did not plan on hiding his feelings. But when news reporters or paparazzi came around, we had to act like we were happy together. That included small, sweet gestures toward each other and kisses on the cheek for show. And once again, I could not help but fall for those small things he did, even though they were for show. Maybe I was the ignorant one for thinking that the small gestures he did were not just for show.
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The next morning, everyone was in a frenzy. My parents were running around preparing me for my wedding, and a ton of paparazzi showed up on the front porch of my house. It was so chaotic that my mother had to call our personal security. Just seeing everyone crowded outside my house made me sick, even more nervous than the day I was told about this marriage. I went to the bathroom and threw up all of my breakfast after viewing the large display of people on my porch. But shortly after that, my mother found me, and she calmed me down.
We had a makeup artist come and apply my concealer, eyeliner and blush on my face. It was a long and exhausting process. My mom took up the responsibility of curling my hair because she wanted to and I had to admit, I looked very nice. My long black hair fell down in medium sized curls down my back. Much to my surprise, my mother remembered how much I liked color and I caught a subtle streak of pink in my curls. I smiled at my mother, and she smiled back at me just for one second.
After finishing, I was relieved. The only thing I had to do was put on my dress.
The dress was long and white, and not large in size. However, it was still striking. The dress was small and unlike most wedding dresses, it had an elegant look instead of an extravagant look. The back of the dress barely hid my back. Instead, the dress covered my back with small beaded decorations. To give the dress a finishing touch, I put a veil over my head. After putting the material on, I looked in the mirror.
"You look beautiful, my dear," my mother said as she came up behind me.
"Thanks, Mom," I whispered, smiling faintly at my dress while rubbing the fabric.
YOU ARE READING
Always Broken (Book 1 and 2)
Ficção Adolescente"Stop crying," he growled, gripping my chin in his hand. When I did not stop crying, he took his teeth and bit my neck hard, making a mark on me. I whimpered as I wiped my tears, keeping my mouth sealed. I wanted to scream but once again, I did not...
