Nice Day For A White Wedding

“Fine,” I say simply.

What else is there to say? He’s not giving me any sort of an explanation and he’s not denying it. I could get angry and yell at him, tell him what I think of someone who would do something so terrible. But what good would it do? Alex must know himself that what he’s doing here is the lowest of the low. He doesn’t need me to tell him that. And it’s not like any of what I thought was between us is even real. He’s not going to give a rat’s ass what I think.

“I’m kind of tired now. Would you mind leaving me alone for a while?” I add when he says nothing.

I don’t wait for him to say anything else. There’s nothing he can say that can fix this. I lay down and turn my back to him. Please just go I think to myself. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.

Alex stays sitting beside me on the bed, but he makes no move to touch me or to try to get me to talk to him. I close my eyes, willing him to go, and after a few minutes, I feel the mattress move as he stands. I hear him walking across the room and I open one eye a slit so I can see him. He picks his laptop up, then walks towards the door. I hear it open.

“I’m sorry, Cindy,” he says.

The door closes behind him and I clench my jaw tightly. I can feel the tears of fury burning the backs of my eyes. Sorry? That’s not enough. It’s not even close to enough. I thought we could get through anything together, but I didn’t bank on something like this coming up. And there is no us to get through anything because it was all a pack of lies. I was being duped every bit as much as Babushka was, and it took Petra of all people to bring the truth to light.

Cindy

I lay stiffly on Alex’s bed for about ten minutes. I know I need to get back to my own room, to my phone so I can make arrangements to get out of here. But first, I want to make sure Alex is really gone. I don’t want a slanging match with him. I just want to be able to slip away quietly and have this whole fucking mess over and done with.

I wait for as long as I can bear to, and then I sit up. I put my good foot down first and then I stand up, putting my hand on the headboard for balance. I test my weight slowly on my twisted ankle. A stab of pain goes up my leg, but it’s nothing I can’t handle and my ankle doesn’t give way or anything. Alex might be a scheming bastard who wants to get richer than he already is off the back of his aunt, but he sure can apply a bandage with precision.

I limp towards the connecting door between our rooms and I find myself laughing like a mad person when a crazy thought pops into my head. I feel as if I’m suddenly in the starring role in Misery. Here I am, a prisoner in a strange house, unable to walk properly, needing to escape, and feeling like there’s no way out.

Of course, there’s a way out I tell myself as I move into my own room and push the connecting door closed. It’s called a cab and then a plane. It’s that simple.

No one is holding you here against your will, I remind myself. It’s not a movie and this isn’t going to turn into some action sequence where I have to try and escape my captors.

Even if Alex catches me packing and tries to stop me from leaving, I know Babushka won’t allow him to keep me here if I tell her I want to leave. I don’t want it to come to that though. I have done enough damage to Babushka. I won’t do anymore.

I pick up my phone and the light catches on my beautiful, fake-engagement ring. With my heart feeling as if it had turned to stone, I take it off and carefully place it on the bedside table. Then I go to sit on the edge of my bed. I open up Google and begin looking for flights. Panic seizes me and tears threaten when I see all the flights leaving tonight start jumbling up before my eyes.

I feel trapped. Panicky. There is only one way out and it involves doing something I never imagined I’d ever do. I never imagined a situation like this. I can’t help but think my life is in danger here. Not from Alex. Even though his feelings for me were lies, it’s a stretch to think he’d try to kill me. But Petra just might. She’s already tried it once. And I keep thinking about Alex mentioning secret passages in the house. She could get into my room and slit my throat in my sleep without anyone even knowing she’d left her room. And I refuse to sleep with Alex again. I think I’d rather be murdered.