It sparkles against the sunlight beaming in from the long French windows of the hall. It’s truly, truly perfect. It’s probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Just like the ring on my finger, however, it doesn’t feel like it belongs to me. It feels like it doesn’t belong on me.
Both remind me of poison. The same way poison works its way into your body and slowly kills you. Both the dress and the ring have that effect on me.
Both are designed to hurt me.
Both are a poisonous reminder that I am owned.
I belong to Massimo D’Agostino, and just like one of his many assets, I am property. That is all I am to him, nothing more.
“How’s it going in there?” the seamstress calls out from the other side of the curtains. The hall was set up so I’d have some privacy to change.
“Good, I… like this one,” I reply. I give myself a once-over in the mirror and make my way out through the curtains.
The seamstress gasps, along with Priscill
a and Candace, who came to help me. I swear Priscilla looks like she’s going to cry. It makes me think of how I imagined my mom to be during this time. I tear up at the thought.
“My God,” Priscilla says. She walks up to me and holds out her hands to take mine. I give them to her, and she gently squeezes. “Emelia, you look truly beautiful.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I reply.
“My dear, you are one of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen,” the seamstress states, bringing her hands together.
Candace nods her agreement. “I second that. You look amazing.”
“Thank you all. I guess this is the winning dress, then,” I reply.
“Definitely a winner,” she agrees. “It’s perfect. I think we just need to take in the top here a little bit.” She tugs on the edge of the binding.
“Okay.”
“And may I suggest having your hair up to show off the back design? And a tiara, unless you specially want a veil.”
“I like the idea of my hair up and the tiara,” I agree completely. When I first saw the dress, I already thought the back needed to be displayed. It has scallops going down the curve. It’s as beautiful as the front.
“Perfect. You’re an easy bride to work with,” she beams, rubbing her hands together. Her green eyes sparkle with delight and the crow’s feet at the corners crinkle as she smiles wide.
If there’s one thing I’ve noticed so far, it’s that everyone who’s been in contact with me since coming to live here has been really nice.
“Thanks, I’m glad to hear.”
“Okay, go change, and I’ll work my magic. I’ll come back in a few days, and we’ll talk shoes and accessories.”
“That sounds great.” It sounds like I’m talking by default. Like the words are coming out of my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m actually saying.
Candace seems to notice. I can tell from the sympathetic look she offers me.
I duck back behind the curtains and place a hand at my heart when I look at myself again in the mirror.
I wish I could be happier.
I wish this moment could feel better, that I weren’t marrying a monster who has this effect on me I can’t explain. It hurt me to no end when he called me nothing. I can’t quite explain how it hurt me when he said it. It felt worse than feeling like a thing. Now, I’m not so sure where I am in my mind. What I am is stuck.
I change into a pair of jeans and a camisole. Clothes. My actual clothes.
When I woke this morning, there were two things in my room that I didn’t have yesterday. The first was my suitcases and bags I was supposed to take to Florence, and the second was a little bit of freedom. The door was open. It wasn’t locked. I could walk around outside the room, and I could open the window.