Captive{ated}

Fourteen: Stained

Within three days of saying I would marry you, I stood at the altar. It happened so fast that I barely remember the events leading to that moment. It was like waking in limbo when I saw the lace, vintage dress hanging on my door. It felt like I was watching myself from the outside in when your mother came to help me get ready. By the time she arrived, I was already awake for hours but hardly moved.

I didn't know it would come so soon. I didn't even know what day of the week it was or the date, but it was to be my wedding day. While most girls could eagerly count down the days till their own, I hoped with a heart full of dread and uncertainty that the seconds leading to the ceremony would turn in to years.

As your mother helped me get ready, I spoke very little. There wasn't much to do, so I suspected she was there more for comfort than anything. We didn't have to say words to know we had a mutual understanding. I knew she could feel my anxiety, my quiet fear. She smiled at me softly, supportingly.

She was the only person I had met here who could come close to sympathizing with me. Somehow, she didn't need words to say that she was there for me, that even though she couldn't stop it, she wished she could. I no longer saw her as brainwashed, as insane for letting everything happen.

We were both victims to this village, powerless against the roles we were chosen for.

By mid-afternoon, your mother led me outside. I hadn't eaten, but how could I when my stomach was so tight? We walked outside under the changing fall leaves, bursts of orange and golds and reds above us. I wore soft, leather sandals on the tossed dirt path, and the slightly long dress on me dragged behind. It was a simple white dress, the material somewhat scratchy. The style was dated, but it was still sweet and elegant. The upper part of the dress was fitted, and as it fell down, it gave way to a skirt that flowed. On my waist, a deep red burgundy sash was tied. I thought it an odd color for a wedding, but what about this wasn't odd? The ensemble was topped off with a thin veil, one that fell before me face. It obscured my vision, but Tara assured me it was tradition for the bride to wear all the way to the aisle. Meaning, there was no getting out of it.

After some walking, I realized that we were in a place familiar from when I was brought here. We had made it to the center of the village, with your parents' house standing proud amongst a few others. There were also a few supply storages, the building I would come to know as the store, and the church. A few young children were running about, all pausing to stare at us. Tara didn't pause a beat, wanting to get this over with. Instead of leading me to the church, though, she led me to the willow that awed me the first time I saw it.

Its branches were now covered with a sheath of multicolored leaves. They still hung down, nearly touching the ground, just like a curtain. It stood at least three stories tall and its branches were so wide they created this huge circle sheathed inside like a privacy tent. It was grander than life, and it didn't belong. A tree like this didn't belong anywhere.

Tara pulled the branches to the side, revealing what was inside. There were benches full of staring people leading to the trunk of the tree. They circled all the way around, only a single seat vacant. Except for a handful of faces, all the occupants were all foreign to me. Standing at the end of the aisle they had created, were you and your father. Issac stood in a black tunic lined with the same red of the fine ribbon around my waist. You were dressed in brown slacks, a white button up, and a vest of red. You held your hands in front of you, a small smile gracing your lips. Under the canopy of greens, yellows, and oranges, it was quite the pretty scene. Still, that didn't help the sour taste in my mouth.