“To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. To love and to cherish…till death do us part…”
The vibrant sunshine bounces off the jewels encrusted along the sweetheart neckline. The white silk is soft to the touch. It’s everything a bride would want their wedding dress to be. Guests fill the garden, all cooing when the ever-important vows are exchanged.
The bride stands proudly, tears pricking her hazel eyes. She’s marrying the love of her life. She feels beyond lucky to have found the other half of her soul. She can’t see him clearly as the lace veil shrouds her view, but she knows he’s handsome. She fell in love with him the moment they met. She can’t wait until she’s forever his.
“I now pronounce you…”
But darkness suddenly consumes the sunshine, and the clouds turn gray and angry. Horror soon replaces her happiness. Her groom becomes less distinct, his shape wavering and morphing into someone else.
Clutching at the pearls around her neck, she attempts to scream, but she’s been robbed of breath. Night conquers day, and she is shrouded in darkness, wading through the confusion. She calls out to her groom, begging for him to explain. But she’s only left with more questions than answers because the voice that fills the air is not that of a bride but of a young girl, no older than eight years old. The once fitted wedding dress now pools at her bare, tiny feet.
Her vision still cloaked, she wrestles with the veil, desperate to make sense of what’s going on. The world spins in a kaleidoscope of colors as she clutches at something tightly in her hand. It’s her safety net when times get tough.
However, through the chaos, she focuses on a soothing voice, which has always been her beacon in a weathering storm. “Everything is always better after a thunderstorm…”
Her universe centers, and she blinks back her fears. The boy who was once her groom stands before her in tattered clothes, but she doesn’t care. He is her home. He makes everything all right. He steps forward, gently cupping her trembling hand. It’s now she realizes that the silken object she holds is a red ribbon. Her SOS.
A crooked smirk paints the boy’s full lips as he brushes away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He only appears a couple of years older than she is. It’s evident he cares for her deeply. And she feels the same way.
He is the only person who can explain to her why she can’t remember. “What’s my name?”
He laughs, shaking his head in humor. However, when he senses the gravity of her question, he turns comforting, her protector. He wraps her in a tight embrace, and she relishes in the way her heart does a tiny flip-flop. But that soon transforms to dread. “Snow…your name is Snow.”
The red ribbon falls from her hand, my hand, and I pass out.
I wake, my heart threatening to spill from my chest.
Brushing back the mussed hair from my brow, I frantically seek out my surroundings, unsure what the hell just happened. A heaviness sinks to the pit of my stomach.
Muted voices alert me to my surroundings, and my brain finally plays catch-up. I’m home. I’m sprawled out on the ratty sofa in my living room, cocooned under a blanket. Now that my heart has returned to a semi-normal rhythm, I sit upright and ignore the thumping against my temple.
Finding my feet, I stand slowly, unsure if the room will stop spinning. It does.
Peering down, I see that I slept in my running shorts and tank—the ones I wore yesterday. Or today. I can’t remember. What day is it?
“Hey. You’re awake.”
“Holy shit!” I yelp, almost winding myself as I spin around to see Cayden standing in the archway, hands raised in surrender.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked a few times. But you were out cold. You really need to lock your door,” he adds as I attempt to catch my breath.
“I did lock it,” I finally reply, or maybe I didn’t. After scurrying home and ignoring the fact that I was seconds away from passing out from lack of oxygen, all I wanted to do was crawl under the blanket and tell my vivid imagination to chill the fuck out. I don’t remember much after that. “What time is it?” The sunshine streaming in from the windows reveals it’s daytime, but I have no idea of the time.
“Just a little past seven.”
So I’ve once again blacked out and woken in a complete state of confusion. These missing chunks of time worry me. Instead of remembering, I seem to be doing the complete opposite.
“Where do you want it?” My house seems to be the budding hub this morning, so I overlook my crisis for now.