The Wedding

"What provoked you to take such drastic actions?" Sheila, my psychotherapist asked. She sat crossed-leg in her pant suit, a black notebook placed on her thigh which she occasionally wrote in during our sessions. 

I sat opposite her in her overly furniture offices, handcuffed to a steel chair. Apparently, a bride who seeks justice against those who wronged her is a maniacal criminal. 

"It happened on the happiest day of my life– supposedly," I replied. I let out a cynical laugh as I recalled the events of my wedding day. 

             * * *

The sunlight seeped out of the glass window, dancing in parallel motion on my skin, laying on golden highlights. My white lace ball gown wedding dress hugged my skin. The ivory embroidered veil draped over me complimented the contour of my dress.

I stood before the standing mirror, my hair packed in messy bun and makeup done to a T. I looked beautiful– I felt beautiful. My palms were sweaty and my breaths unsettling. Wedding jitters. I adorned my dress with my diamond stud earrings– a gift from my mother. Speaking of my mother–

"When will mom get here?" I snapped at Sophia, my step–sister and only bridesmaid. I had a non-existent social life, which explains why the wedding guests were populated by Brian's friends and family. 

"Don't know, don't care," she replied nonchalantly, focused on her phone. 

"You're my maid of honour, shouldn't you be assisting me?" I reprimanded. 

"Not by choice. I'm here because you begged me," she retorted.

"Everything will be okay," I chanted repeatedly till it sunk in. It didn't. My heart palpitated in anxiety. 

I reached for my phone on the table to call my fiancé. I needed the assurance that I wasn't dreaming, I was really going to spend eternity with him. I dialed his number for the umpteenth time but still couldn't get through to him. 

A soft knock emerged at the door. It opened, revealing Dave– Brian's best man, clad in a black suit, white shirt and burgundy tie– the same shade as Sophia's mermaid dress. 

"You look stunning, Becca!" He exclaimed. 

I smiled and said, "Thanks, Dave." 

"Why isn't Brian picking up my calls?" I asked, anxiously. 

"That's why I'm here. I thought you might know where he is," he said and the blood drained from my face. 

"I'm being stood up, aren't I?" I panicked. 

"Calm down. I'm sure he's around somewhere blowing off some steam," he assured me but I didn't need his assurance. I needed Brian. What if something bad happened to him or he forgot the venue? He could be forgetful at times.

"Or maybe he's having second thoughts," Sophia called out, earning her a scowl from Dave. 

"What? It always happens," she continued, her legs crossed on the couch. "Am I the only one who watches TV?" 

I slipped out of my heels, grabbed my dress my the train and dashed out the hotel room, pushing pass Dave. I got to Brian's room but there was no sight of him.

This can't be happening now!

I ran down the hallway to the elevator. I had to reach out to him. I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a familiar feminine voice coming from the opposite room. 

"Don't tell the bride," she giggled seductively.

Mom? 

I walked up to the door, my hand curled on the knob. I pondered if barging in on her was the right thing to do.

"Becca!" Dave called out. "Brain called, he's in the building."

"Great!" Relief washed over me. 

"Twenty minutes till show time!" he enthused then walked off. 

I let go of the door knob, feeling stupid for getting worked up for nothing. I turned to leave but stopped abruptly. 

"Dave!" My mother moaned. My curiosity went haywire. I thrusted the door open, my heart sank at the sight of my step-mother and fiancé frolicking with each other. 

My mom's legs were wrapped around Brian's waist as he carried her against the wall. His tongue was buried in her mouth, kissing her passionately. He snaked his hands on her body, groping her in inappropriate places. 

He never held me like that before. 

They leaped off each other, covered in embarrassment after catching sight of me. My legs felt numb and lost it's balance. I dropped to the floor, tears trickling down my face. My heart ached in anguish. 

"Becca, it's not what it looks like," Brian spoke up, threatening to come closer to me. My eyes darted at the bulge in his pants, he placed his hands over them as if that would make me unsee it. 

"Make me understand, then. Explain what you were doing with this wench!" I spat out, eyeing my mother. 

"Mind your language now, Becca," my mother reprimanded. 

"Language? You dare question my language after what you've done!" Her smug countenance irked me. She felt no guilt, nor remorse. 

"What have I done that hasn't been done before?" She asked proudly, crossing her hands over chest. Her words ignited something vile in me. Brian stood there mute like a deer caught in headlights. 

I stood up slowly, locking the door behind me and moved closer to them. 

"We can work this out, Becca. We always do," he said, backing away two paces. But that time wasn't like the others. They've had their fun, it was time I for once had mine. 

"We can work things out, huh?" I said and he nodded in approval. My fingers fumbled on the flowers in the vase placed on the counter. I picked up the vase and shattered it into bits causing them to yelp. I picked up a shard of glass, and motioned it towards them and they recoiled instinctively. I slit my wrist, flinching slightly at the pain. Blood trailed down my hand, dripping on the tiled floor. I slit my wrist again, and again, seeking some form of relief from my act. 

"God, what are you doing Becca. Stop!" He came closer, trying disarm me of the shard of glass. I thrust it at him and he stepped back. 

"Who are you to care if my hand is bleeds. My heart's bleeding right now because of you," I shrilled. 

"Stop this now, Becca! Don't be naive," my mother rebuked. 

I'd had enough of that proud hag humiliating me. I groaned and lunged at her, slitting her arm with the glass. Brian held on to me, prying me off her. She scooted over to the balcony, her blood trailing on the tiles. I struggled with him, fighting to break free from his grip but his strength dominated mine. I stepped on his foot and kicked him in the groin. He lost his balance and and I pushed him out of my way and made my way to the balcony. 

My mother pleaded as she recoiling back in fear, her hands gripping the baluster. A knock emerged at the door, Dave hauled and knocked on the door, trying to gain entrance into the room. My mom yelled at the top of her lungs for help and I smacked her across her face to shut her up. 

"I'm sorry, Becca. Please!" She pleaded. I held her by the collar of her dress, thrusting her head in between the baluster. I banged her head against the firm steel repeatedly till blood oozed out her head. 

"You don't want to kill your own mother," she wailed, blood frothing at her mouth. 

"I do," I said, hoisting her over the balcony. I watched with thrilled eyes as her body descended the building into the busy streets in a thud. 

I walked back into the room to find Brian's lifeless body swimming in a pool of its own blood; shards of glass lodged in his head. I fell down beside him, staring into his hazel eyes. The ones I once fell in love with but now detest. My solitude came to an end by the growing noise at the door. It seemed who ever was out there had involved the assistance of a weapon. 

I whispered into Brian's ear, "For better or for worse, till death do us apart," then closed his eyes. I placed my head on Brian's chest simultaneously with the collapsed door.