End of the Line

by Ottilie Weber

  Soreness overcame me the next morning when I woke up. My eyes and throat burned from crying myself to sleep and my limbs cried out in tenderness from sleeping in a tight ball. The silk sheets felt like grime to my skin and I felt ashamed of myself for getting in this situation.

  I nearly jumped a foot in the air as the door opened. There stood a man you feared, yet admired for his strength as he destroyed you.

  “You must now get up and meet me for breakfast. Don’t wear the clothes you wore to dinner. There are much more than that.” No good morning or anything, just right to the point.

  Manson left me alone and I took a few minutes to get out of bed to get ready. My body was refusing to move correctly. I grabbed a shirt and bottoms, not really paying attention to what I was taking out of the drawers and then I went into the bathroom to get ready. My eyes widened after I put the shirt on. I looked down to where my hands stopped. The shirt didn’t even cover my midsection.

  I threw on the long jeans that rested low on the hips. This outfit was definitely not going to do around a middle age man and his weirdo followers. Shuffling through the drawers I noticed there seemed to be a trend with the clothes, not much fabric. I glanced again in the mirror not believing the image in front of me. This thin shadow of what I use to be made me nauseous.

  I opened my bedroom door to find a guy standing guard, which made me uneasy. The thought that someone would always have an eye on me caused a shudder to shoot up my spine. I attempted to stroll swiftly away from the guy and not seem like I was up to anything. I rushed down the stairs with my arms around my middle. My arms were a poor effort to cover myself. I found Dean Manson sitting at the table waiting for me. With slow strides, I made my way to the table, restraining the urge to play with my hair, a nervous habit, as I kept my arms concealing the exposed skin.

  Dean Manson stood up and pulled out the chair next to him so I could sit down. My insides were fluttering. I didn’t want to be near him. I wanted Aaron’s arms around me instead Manson. He pushed my seat in as I stared down at the tablecloth. I felt a slight pressure on my head. Even though I couldn’t see what he had done, I knew he had kissed the top of my head and I wanted to vomit in addition to scrubbing every part of me.

  He sat down, grinning at me as the gloom just seeped through me. I couldn’t even fake a smile, so I kept my eyes glued to the table, and then a plate of food was placed there. Manson started to talk to me and I just kept nodding my head like I was paying attention, though my ears seemed to be turned off.

  “A bit distracted, are we?”

  I just looked up at the adult in front of me. “Sorry.” My voice was monotone. I just pushed around the food on my plate, not hungry that’s all.

  “You know, the wedding is tomorrow.”

  I just nodded my head, yes. I was unable to speak.

  “I knew you wouldn’t be leaping for joy over this… arrangement, but I thought I would get a little more life out of you.”

  I just stared blankly at him and started to fear what he meant by that as I felt a draft on my ribs. I so didn’t want that man touching me! I held back a quiver at how repulsed I was.

  I was leaning more to one side to get a little farther from him.

  “Now, Lauren, I’ve been planning our wedding tomorrow so you don’t have to worry about any of the details.”

  I just nodded my head. I didn’t want to marry this guy and I so didn’t want to be doing any part of the planning of my forced marriage.

  “Now, what will you be doing today?”

  I wanted to roll my eyes at that comment. I was practically being blackmailed to stay with this man to protect the guy I loved, and he was asking me how I planned on spending my day. There wasn’t really anyone or anything to keep me busy since the asteroids. My new family is God knows where with the guy I'd much rather be with. Then to top it off, I apparently had prison guards.

  “I’ll probably go back to my room after taking a book from the library,” I responded with a shrug, not sure if I would be able to even see the letters without my glasses.

  I took one bite of the breakfast and decided I was going to throw up if I had to eat near Manson. His façade was obviously fake, and I was insulted he thought I was dumb enough to fall for it. Aaron told me what a horrible man Manson was, and watching him carry out this act was nauseating.

  “That sounds nice. I’ll see you for dinner. Also, make sure the white dress in your room fits you. Remember, this is your last night in that room since tomorrow night, you’ll be in my room.”

  He just loved to just share the good news. It was one good thing right after another with him. After he left, I attempted to eat little of the food, but someone came into the room and took the plate away from me. With a sigh, I watched my breakfast be carried away from me, so I decided to go upstairs to see how much I should worry about this dress he had already had for the wedding. How did he even get the dress?

  Taking many deep breaths, I prayed not to find a hooker wedding dress in the closet. After all, I’d seen my everyday outfits. As I neared the room, I saw the man still standing in front of my door. The guard’s face was stone cold, staring straight ahead as I rushed into the room and closed it quickly.

  With a racing heart, I went to the closet thinking this was so not how I thought my wedding would be. Opening the closet's French doors, I found the hanger that was in a bag with the logo of what was once the local wedding shop printed on the back. Without breathing, I took the bag out of the closet. I placed the bag on my bed. Leaning over, I took the dress out. It felt the air being sucked out of my lungs. I stared at the dress. Nervously, I exchanged my current sorry excuse for clothing with what was supposed to be my wedding dress.

  I zipped the back of the dress up and tied the halter by the back of my neck. I noticed there was a mirror in the corner. My hair was a bit of a mess so I tied my hair in a bun using the hair brush on the dresser. There were a few pieces jewelry in a dark wooden, highly detailed box. I grabbed a pair of dangle earrings that were tear drop stones to try on for when I glimpsed into the mirror once more to see if that had helped any.

  I was in a sleek white dress that sparkled lightly in the light that came through my window. I turned to my side to see a small train of fabric behind me. A little longer then it probably should be, but halter helped a little. So the dress didn’t fit me perfectly, but overall, wasn’t too bad.