Crowned by Hate (Crowned 1)

Collecting up the rest of my belongings, I head for the door with Briana behind me. “You look casual,” she says calmly, looking at my body up and down. “But you look mighty fine for just having a baby!” She’s right, I do look casual, but I don’t look fine. That’s her pregnancy eyes kicking in. I’m walking down this time in nothing but a loose nude dress that hangs around my knees. I never wanted the damn big dress anyway.

“Yes, that’s the plan. I didn’t want extravagant, I just wanted. Me. I wanted Bryant. I wanted us.”

Brianna looks me straight in the eye and smiles a sad smile. “Let’s do this.”

Slowly walking down the dimly lit aisle, I clutch the bouquet of lilies in my hand. It’s around eight p.m., so the sun has long since set and all that we have as lighting are the candles beaming up the aisle and all the fairly lights that are dangling above the seating area in the large trees, before finally trailing up around the altar. I look up to see Bryant cradling baby Harper in his arms and eying me in such a way it has my skin prickle, my heartbeat race, and sweat to bead out of the pores in my skin. Bryant is an incredible father. He puts new meaning to “Daddy.” Seeing him play with Harper has my lady bits tingling where they definitely should not be tingling one week after giving birth. Even if I did need a C-section.

Shit. I let out a long exhale of pent-up air just as my feet reach the altar.

This is it. This is my life, my beautiful, insane, very fucked up life. But it’s mine and I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

“Mr. and Mrs. Royal, we’re gathered here today….”

Beep.

Beep.

Author note: If you’re satisfied with the image this story has given you, please stop here, as you’re about to get a rude awakening.

23

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

What’s that sound? I look around, out to all our guests who are seated in their seats. What is that sound? My eyebrows tug in in confusion and I look back at Bryant.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his face blurring like a fuzzy TV show that’s struggling to gather enough signal. A woman, standing in the shadows behind the tree comes into view, and I put my hand over my eyes to try to shade my view onto her. “Hey!” But she runs away.

“I—I—” I look out to our guests again, only they begin melting away. “What?” I whisper, my hand coming up to my forehead.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The trees all melted together in a puddle of wet goo, and when I looked back to ask Bryant what was going on, he was gone.

But there was someone there. Brooke stared back at me with a smirk, dangling a machete in front of her.

“Well, well, well…” She swung her arm back and launched the sharp side of the machete deep into my throat. Blood seeped down the side of my throat and I dropped to the floor, clutching my neck. Choking on the warm liquid that was filling my mouth, Brooke stepped over me as my vision came in and out.

This was bad.

I was going to die.

Where was Bryant? Oh my god, Harper! And who was that woman? Tears poured down my cheeks.

“Where—where—” I muttered, but failed because the blood was coming in so much faster now. So much faster.

“Bry—”

Brooke laughed, then launched her arm back. She grinned. “I win.”

Everything went black.

“She’s not coming back.”

Beep.

“Good riddance.”

A blood-curdling scream tears out of my mouth as I launch off the hospital bed.

“Nope, she’s back,” someone says beside me and exhales, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“Where am I?” I look around the sterile white room, my eyes narrowing.

“Isa…” the weird man dressed in a white gown growls beside me. It’s then that I realize I can’t move my hands because they’re wrapped around my waist by a straitjacket. “Isa, it’s ok… we’ve done this so many times—remember? I’m Mr. Barrack, and this is nurse Turner. You’re still in the institution here at Merry Hill.”

“What?” I snap, shocked. Confused. Institution? What the fuck.

“Isa.”

“Stop calling me Isa!” I roar at them all, and that’s when I catch my reflection in the bleak window. “Oh my God! No….” I shake my head.

The doctor pauses and reaches for a panic button. “Justine…” he whispers to the nurse discreetly, his face pale while reaching for the panic button. “Justine, get help.” Then he looks back to me. “Brooke? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me!” I yell. “Why the fuck am I in this fugly slut’s body!”

The doctor turns pale and in one quick rush, he slams the palm of his hand on the panic button before whispering, “I never…she lost…” His shoulders dropping. “Isa lost.”

“Yes,” I smirk, finally realizing what he means. “And I won.” With all the power I can muster, I rip off the straight jacket, reach for the vase beside my bed and smash it against his head. “I wooooonnnnnnnn!” I roar, just as a dozen officer’s rush into the room and launch me back into my bed, injecting me with serum.