Page 118 of Beautiful Chances
Daa,da,da,da… Here comes the bride… The stupid song keeps playing in my mind as I lie here, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. How can I when I’m only mere hours from becoming Mrs. Luis-whatever-his-last-name-really-is?
I don’t even know his first name. I never thought to ask what I should start doodling in my non-existent notebooks, and with the different aliases he uses, there’s no way to be positive. Tomorrow is when I will find out. The priest—or whoever is marrying us—will have to speak his true name, or at least I assume so.
Sighing, I turn my head so I can see the clock placed on my nightstand. I asked Luis for something to tell the time after he walked me back to my room. My husband-to-be lingered so long, and kept eyeing the bed in a way that had me worrying he planned to sleep in here. Luckily, he didn’t.
As we stood in the doorway saying goodnight, I asked for the clock. At first, he outright refused me, but when I kept pleading, he agreed. Ugh, I clench my teeth as I recall my exact words. “Please, Luis. It’s driving me crazy not knowing something as simple as the time.” When he shook his head, I amped up the begging. “Isn’t a husband meant to give his future wife a gift? Seeing as I never even got an engagement ring, I want this.”
I don’t know what made him change his mind. Maybe it was my pleas, the reminder that I’m soon his, or payment for the hand job. Whatever it was, he gave in and brought me this old clock, and right now, it’s telling me it’s twenty past one in the morning. If I fall asleep right now, I’ll get a good solid six hours before it’s time to rise and shine.
Oh yeah, my dear hubby-to-be told me all about his grand plans for tomorrow. At seven-thirty sharp, my preparations begin. I need to try on my wedding dress—gah—then while the seamstress alters the dress to my specifications, I’m to receive a full-body wax. Afterward it’s time for my massage before I go to hair and makeup. Not a minute of the day is unplanned, and apparently, that’s how long it will take to make me look presentable for two o’clock when the wedding starts.
Daa, da, da, da… Here comes the bride!
I look at the clock again, it’s now ten past two. My stomach clenches at the realization that in less than twelve hours, I’ll be walking down the aisle. Walking toward a man I’d rather see collared, trembling at Coen’s feet than at the altar.
The only good thing is that I will finally see my guys again. Granted, the circumstances are less than ideal with me marrying someone else and all. Beggars can’t be choosers, though, and since this is the only way for me to see them, it’s more than good enough—it has to be. It scares me that I haven’t seen Kas and Coen yet. Is it because they’re in a worse state than Alec? I don’t see how that’s possible if they’re still alive…
Fuck! It hits me that in my negotiation with Luis, I never mentioned that all three of them had to be alive. Their state wasn’t even discussed, only the fact that they would be set free. Grotesque images of my men’s mangled bodies flash in my mind, one more gruesome than the former.
No!
No, they’re alive. I know they are. They have to be because the alternative is too horrible. Tears pool in my eyes as I can’t push the one thing I don’t want to think about out of my mind. Of course, they’re alive, which means I have to turn my back on them come morning.
I’m not ready to say goodbye to them, and I don’t think I will ever be ready for that. I try to imagine what it would be like to have the three of them waiting for me at the altar, seeing them standing side-by-side in matching suits.
Hmm, no, not matching. If I had a say, I would pick a deep green for Coen, navy blue for Kas, and gray for Alec. Although my men look good in anything, nothing beats them wearing clothing that matches their eyes. Wait, that’s not entirely true. Seeing them naked and in the throes of passion, that’s the best look. In an ideal world, I would marry all three of them, or at the very least commit to them for the rest of our lives.
Giving up on sleep, I throw the cover off and walk to the bathroom. For the first time, I’m tempted to take some of the painkillers placed on the sink. Even if they’re more than just your average painkillers, what’s the harm? If I’m too drugged up to function, I would be spared from having to deal withtomorrow. However, it would also mean I don’t get to say goodbye.
With an angry scream, I hurl the bottle across the room and watch it splinter against the end wall. The small white pills all spill out, spreading across the floor. Sighing, I bend down to clean up my mess. Using my hand, I swipe the pills and broken plastic into a pile in the corner where I don’t risk stepping on it.
Hang on… The plastic is sharp. Could I use it as a weapon? Picking up a piece, I experimentally press it against the pad of my thumb, watching through wide eyes as blood surfaces. Yes, the shards are small enough to hide anywhere, and it would… No, I already can’t do that. Even though I don’t see any cameras anywhere, that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. And there’s no doubt in my mind that if I disobey Luis, one or all my men will pay the price, and I’ll more than likely be forced to watch.
As messed up as it may sound, I think I would mind less if I had to watch in person. Maybe my presence could offer them some strength, or at least reassurance that I’m still alive and somewhat well. Right now, I don’t know if Luis has told them about his plans or if they even know I’m here.
I scramble to my feet as there’s a soft knock on the door. Abandoning the mess on the floor, I stand and cross the distance as fast as possible, my heart beating faster. I have no idea who could be at the door, and I can’t imagine Luis is allowing anyone else near me. I come to a stop just in front of the door, contemplating whether or not to open it.
What if this is a test? Luis must be watching, so what if he’s testing whether I’d open the damn thing, knowing full well he hasn’t given me permission… No, I can’t risk it. Without turning away, I take a few steps back, putting more distance between myself and the exit.
“Mia? Mia, are you in there?” Even though I want to answer, I’m rendered speechless by the all too familiar voice on the other side of the door. “Luis told me to let you know he expects you to open the door and let me in. He said that since you’re not sleeping, we may as well get started.” I automatically turn around and look at the clock. It’s almost four.
Regardless of whether or not she’s speaking the truth, I can’t ignore her. If it’s a test, it’s one I’m going to fail. Before I can talk myself out of it, I walk back to the door and open it, surprised it isn’t locked. I didn’t even take into consideration that Luis locked the door after he left me, so the fact that it’s unlocked now must mean he did approve my visitor.
“Hi Mia.”
Blinking back tears, I look into the face that’s barely recognizable. “Lila,” I breathe and step back so she can come into the room. “What are you doing here?” It’s a stupid question. She’s obviously a prisoner like I am.
Well, not like me… Not even like Alec. I’ve never in my wildest imaginations seen anything like Lila before. Her head is shaved completely bald, and there are burn marks on her scalp and face—the parts of her face that aren’t covered in stitches, that is. Her lips are swollen to double or triple size, and her nose… Oh God, her nose… It’s… Fuck! It’s misshapen to where it’s painful to watch it, knowing that a lot of brutality lies behind it to end up looking like that.
“I… Lila—” I swallow audibly, unable to speak.
“I’m here to help you bathe,” she says, barely looking at the floor.
There are a million things I want to say to Lila, yet nothing comes to mind. Tears run silently down my face as I force myself to look at her, witnessing what I assume is Luis’ handiwork—if not directly done by him, then on his orders.
The black plastic bag Lila is wearing is a far cry from her usual clothes. Despite that, there’s still something proud about her. Even with her head bowed, her shoulders are squared, and it’s beautiful to watch her silent strength.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I miss the sound of running water from the bathroom, not snapping out of it until Lila calls me. “Mia, come on, we don’t have much time.” And I walk back into the bathroom, watching Lila as she’s bent over the bathtub—her good and only hand resting on the edge.
