Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
21
SIN
I was wrong. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong. Nobody could sit there in front of all those people and pretend to be happy when they wanted no part of this in the first place. It's one thing to make the best out of a shitty situation, but another to pretend to be happy about it. So many eyes on me, so many expectations.
What am I supposed to do? Thank them for bearing witness to the happiest day of my life? It's obscene, all of it. It's evil. Taking something that's supposed to be beautiful and sacred and turning it into this ugly, twisted thing.
I wet a towel under the cold tap and press it against the back of my neck, hoping to cool myself off. I’m flushed, burning up inside, only it's not a fever that has me acting this way. I'm not sick. Not physically.
How is this my life? That's what I can't wrap my head around. I can tell myself all I want to that it's all a matter of accepting what is and moving on, but it turns out, things aren't that easy. I only thought they could be. Yet another way for me to run from the truth. And what is the truth?
I raise my head, looking at myself in the mirror. A blushing bride, I am not. More like a heartsick mess.
But the truth is, no matter how wicked and depraved Christian behaves, I'll still love him. There's no way to convince my heart otherwise. How am I supposed to pretend there’s anything normal about that? How can I love somebody who’d so callously take a life?
How could I order him to kill his father?
That’s not who I am, is it? I certainly felt like it when I issued the order. It wasn’t even difficult. I felt no twinge of guilt.
The sounds of feasting and revelry going on outside the bathroom. Everybody’s partying it up while I fight like hell to hold back the tears. Who am I? I hardly recognize the girl in the mirror even though she wears the face I’ve looked at every day. I wish I could pretend this isn’t the real me. I would give anything to disassociate the way Christian does. Now I understand why he needs to do that. Why does he pretend to have no conscience? It’s the only way he can live with himself.
No matter how I’ve fought against humanizing him, I can’t ignore the truth. No more pretending. He’s just as human as I am, even if he acts like the devil himself.
After all, I proved to myself earlier that I’m capable of evil, too. Ordering him to murder Samuele.
My stomach churns at the thought of it, clenching until I’m sure the little bit of food I managed to choke down for the sake of appearances is about to come back up. I swing around and crouch in front of the toilet in preparation and hope nothing gets on my dress. Even now, I want to make sure I still look decent in front of the guests. I might be a raging wreck inside, but I don't need to look like one.
The nausea passes before anything comes up. I still wait, afraid to move in case I stir my stomach around too much. Once I'm sure I'll be okay, I sit down on a small chair that seems completely out of place but is a godsend right now. I have to sit down. My head is spinning.
Do not cry. Be strong. I grit my teeth, growling at myself in my head. You're better than this. Don't let them see what this is doing to you. Don't let him see. For once, it's Samuele I'm thinking more of, not Christian. He disapproves of this marriage. That much is obvious. At first, it struck me as odd. Didn't he agree to the marriage years ago?
The answer is obvious. Christian basically gave me the answer back at the hotel when we were hiding. His father had no intention of going through with the match. It was something Christian said when he described the way his father did business. He would clap somebody on the back and call them a friend when he had no intention of following through. He would say whatever needed to be said at the moment to get what he wanted.
Which has to be at least part of the reason he wanted me dead, along with my parents. Even though my mother wasn't really my mother. How am I ever going to make sense of all of this? It's like being lost in a dark maze. The walls are higher than my head, making it impossible to see over the top. No matter how I turn, I only end up hitting a wall. It's enough to make me dizzy and disoriented.