Captive{ated}

Fifteen: Twinge

"Welcome to the Village."

"It's so nice to meet you, Evelyn."

"That ceremony was wonderful. We could really see the love Caleb feels for you."

After the ceremony, I was bombarded by many of the Villagers at the celebration. Whenever there was a wedding in the Village, it was a big deal since they didn't happen often. Outside the curtain of the willow, children were dancing with ribbons and some played with their loyal dogs. It almost looked like a scene from a show like Little House on the Prairie. The girls were dressed in cotton dresses and the boys in trousers and button up shirts. A couple had cute little hats. The adults, however, were not such a picturesque scene as they were all crowding around us trying to say hello. I couldn't reply before someone else spoke. There were so many faces all around that it was suffocating.

"Congratulations. I'm sure Caleb has been treating you well, yes?" An older woman asked.

"We're so happy to see you! We were starting to wonder if there was ever going to be a wedding," a man who couldn't have been much older than you joked.

Your hand tightened around me. "Yes, yes, thank you everyone," you smiled at the attention everyone gave. "If you don't mind, though, I think my wife is a little overwhelmed at the moment. We're going to take a few minutes to ourselves. We will see you all at the banquet later."

With that, you parted our way through the sea. You led me to your parents' house. As soon as we were alone, I let out a big sigh. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall for support, not realizing how flustered I was until now.

We stood in the foyer as I recovered. "Are you okay?" you asked. I heard remorse in your voice, but hearing your guilt for this all offered no relief.

Pinching my nose, I grumbled, "Do you think I'm okay after that? I-I just need to wash this off." I was referring to the smudged blood on my forehead.

You grabbed me by the arm before I could. "You can't wash it off until tonight," you informed me. "It's tra-"

"It's tradition," I mocked. "I'm sorry Caleb, but I hate your traditions."

"I know they take some getting used to-"

"A goat was killed in our wedding ceremony! We had to cut our hands with the same dagger, and now I'm wearing that blood on my forehead!" I took a deep breath, sounding much more defeated now, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to it."

You looked at me in understanding, nodding your head, but you commented no more on it. You took my stained and scabbed hand instead, observing it . "Let's clean this and bandage it up."

You led me through the well decorated house to the kitchen. When we went through the dining room, I adverted my eyes. No good memories there. "What about your hand?" I asked as a distraction.

You clenched it, not seeming too bothered. "It's only a little cut," you said. "I'm more concerned about taking care of yours."

While I was running warm water over my injury, you grabbed a box that contained some bandages. They were the cloth type that wrapped around the wound. I wondered how often that box had to be pulled out. After my hand was washed, you had me take a seat and you sat beside me.

I looked at my hand, the red line was alarming against my light skin. "Why didn't you tell me about all the blood?" I asked sounding more vulnerable than I intended. It chilled me to the bone, though, seeing that side of this place.

You pressed a towel against the cut, causing it to sting. "If you would have known, would you still have said yes?" You asked. You didn't look me in the eye. Guilt was always eating at you.