My F*cked Up Fairytale

DEVIL IN DISGUISE - CHAPTER NINETEEN

All of the tireless preparations that have cluttered my days endlessly have finally come to a stop. It's definitely not because I have become the perfect bride. I'm still far from it, but there's nothing that can be done about that now. Not when it's the dreadful day of my wedding. 

I should be filled to the brim with anticipation of the events to come. I'll walk down the aisle in a few hours from now, then I'll be bound to Dorian with a kiss and a heavy ring, and finally...

Well, under normal circumstances, I might say Dorian and I would go off on a romantic honeymoon full of many hot nights and carefree, relaxing days. Unfortunately, the last, most painful event that will inevitably follow will be the death of Dorian at my hands.

I swallow down the rising lump in my throat as I place my hands on a bureau, hanging my head. Tears are already beginning to find their way into my eyes. 

I force myself to look upward and into my reflection. Through my tears, I can see the beauty that I have been transformed into. My flowing, harshly-colored hair is spun into a bun, held in place by a metal claw that has strings of crystals hanging down, occasionally brushing against the nape of my neck. Two pieces of red hair frame my face which is lightly dusted with silver that sparkles whenever light catches on it. The silver compliments my fair skin as well as the dress Selene had to practically squeeze me into. 

Although the dress contracts around me like a snake, I still find myself loving it. Its elegant front is made up of buttery-soft, black fabric that splits into two thick lines which only provide a small portion of cover for each of my breasts. The middle of my chest is left bare to display the silver, ruby-jeweled piece that decorates it. Yet another silver piece of jewelry rests against my stomach. It attaches the fabric covering my chest and the rest of the dress that flows to the floor. 

Everything about the dress is to be loved, nothing to be scorned, but I can't say the same for the person wearing it. I don't deserve a single speck of the love that will surely come my way today. For, I'm no bride. I'm a devil in disguise, just waiting to stab the one they love right through their chest. My hand reaches down to the drawer of the bureau, where I have safely stashed the dagger away. As my fingertips brush against the drawer, the door to my room swings open.

"Miss, I can practically hear your sniffles from all the way across the manor!" Selene yells at me in a hushed tone as she hurriedly closes the door before any servants can see me crying. She appears before me, hands gently pressing to my reddened cheeks. "I understand that humans have a grave amount of trouble controlling their emotions during these types of events, but I beg of you, please dry your tears! If you make your grand entrance with puffy eyes and a snot-crusted nose, you'll be scorned until the night the werewolves make peace with the vampires — which will be never — so once again, Miss, compose yourself!"

I nod and raise my arm to wipe my nose, only for Selene to grab it. She sighs, shaking her head in disbelief before fishing a handkerchief from her pocket. Instead of handing it to me, she simply takes the handkerchief and gingerly dabs it under my nose. I almost feel like a child with the way she's doting on me, not that I mind all that much.

"There, you're all better now," She reassures me, stuffing her dirtied handkerchief back into her pocket. "Is there anything I may be able to do to ensure you don't begin crying again? Do not hesitate to tell me. It is my priority to make sure you are the perfect bride for Master Dorian."

At first, I can't think of anything that may be able to settle my inner turmoil. But, after a slight pain hits my stomach, I come up with a request, one that I'm almost certain will be denied. Still, there's no harm in at least trying.