My Wedding Story
I left my house that cold october morning in my best sunday suit and with a smile on my face. Walking down those creaky wooden stairs, a spring in my step, I waved to Mr. Donovan. I could see his head over the picket fence separating our yard, oxblood on my side, a stained wood, all weather finish on his. He was just finishing up his yard work, mowing his lawn probably for the last time that season, as frost had already started to form on our lawns in the morning.
He saw me, waved back, called “How ya doin’, Chip? How’s the fiance?”
“Never better,” I replied, grinning ear to ear, my eyes narrowing with my immense smile. “But she won’t be my fiance for long. Today’s the wedding day!”
He took a step back, a look of mock shock on his face. “Ooooh boy! Already?! Time sure does fly!”
“It sure does,” I said.
“Well, congratulations. I only hope the best for you, Chip.”
“Thank you, Mr. Donovan. I’ll tell her you said so.”
We waved again, he busied himself packing up his lawnmower. I strode across my back lawn, leaves crunching under my patent leathers, the dead and the dying, a miniscule cacophony. My mother loved these shoes. It’s a shame she couldn’t be here for this.
The shed where I would be married, at the far end of our, rather MY, back yard stood looming on that beautiful day, red with rust, casting a long shadow. It was picturesque, so I stopping momentarily, snapped a pic on my Kodak disposable, and continued my trek.
Once I got to the shed, I unlocked the two padlocks, unfastened the chain with the maglock, and pulled those tremendous doors open. The smell of dust, decay, soil. It would be a rustic wedding for sure, but that’s what we always wanted, me and my fiance. Nothing special, just the two of us, and the minister. Very old fashioned. I like that. WE like that.
After I got inside, I pulled those doors back closed behind me, they let up a wail. I always told mom to fix that, she never did. Now she’s not here, and I’ll have to do it. A wave of sadness washed over me, the keyword over. I would not let my feelings get in the way. This was our special day. And I’m a whole new person. She did this to me, my beautiful fiance. She changed me, made me a better person. I knew she would, when I first saw her at the diner, working the late shift. I knew she would be mine. Oh, it was rocky to start, to say the least. But it all worked out in the end. I was persistent, unrelenting, and she eventually saw the error of her ways. I mean, of course she did. She’s marrying me, isn’t she?
After those doors were shut I re-locked them, put the keys back under my shirt, strapped to my chest. They were secure. They had to be, I didn’t want a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago, when my fiance got cold feet. No sir.
After those doors were locked I turned, flicked a switch, illuminated this 100 square foot shed. I then walked to the old arm chair on the rug in the center, as I did so many times while my fiance and I were dating, moved the chair, pulled up the rug, unlocked the trap door, and flung it open. Some dust shot up. It’d been awhile. I kept meaning to clean, but I was busy with the wedding and all. I hope it’s understandable.
Once the trap door was up I was greeted with that familiar spiral staircase, which I descended to the basement level, where I flicked another switch, and then walked to the false wall and rolled it aside. She was still there, my blushing bride, right where I left her. Chained to the wall.
When I rolled the wall, the sound had awoken her, startled her from her slumber. Her eyes were wide and they followed me as I moved, she made small gurgling sounds and spittle formed around her gag. I pulled a handkerchief out of my shirt pocket and rushed to wipe her mouth. She recoiled at my touch, a muffled moan escaped her mouth. Like I said, cold feet.
“Shhh, shhh. Don’t worry, I’m here,” I cooed at her. “I know you missed me, but all is well. It’s our big day, remember? I told you the other day. We’re getting married!”
Her head shook slowly, another moan, two tears fell from her right eye. She was in a flowing white wedding gown, it had been my mother’s. I knew mom would be so happy, if she were here today. Unfortunately she couldn’t be. She stumbled on the love nest me and my fiance had built. She tried to take my fiance from me. My mother needed to be corrected.
Another wave of sadness, anger. I let it pass. Looked at my bride. She looked gorgeous.
“I think it’s about time to start,” I said to her. I pivoted and left the closet I had made with the false wall, and walked across the room to an old wardrobe on the other side. That wardrobe had been a sumbitch to get down the stairs, but It was super useful. I opened it, and pastor Rich spilled out onto the ground. He was dazed, but awake, his hands and feet bound with duct tape, mouth covered with the same. I dragged him across the floor to my bride to be.
“Sweetheart, this is pastor Rich. I’m sure you’ve met him, it’s a small town, afterall.” at this point the pastor had started struggling and making noise so I kicked him in the ribs once, a second time, and that shut him up. “Baby, he’ll be doing our wedding. Isn’t that right, pastor?” I looked down at him, he was looking up at me, made a sound. “Oh, right, the tape,” I said, then leaned down and pulled the tape off his mouth.
“HEEEEEELLLLLLLLP,” he screamed, I kicked him in the ribs twice more, put my foot on his face, removed it.
“Pastor, I believe we need to get on with the ceremony,” I said to him.
He looked up at me, said “What ceremony? What are you doing here? What is this-”
I kicked him again, this time in the face. He let out a loud “ARRRGGGHHHH” and spit a bloody tooth across the cement floor. I’m glad I was able to soundproof this basement.
“Our wedding ceremony, sir. Please do it.”
He looked up at me for a moment and I motioned that I would kick him in the face again. He flinched, and then started the speech from memory:
“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today…”
As he spoke I looked at her, my beautiful fiance, and my eyes welled with tears. It had been a rough year, but it was finally happening, we were to be married.
Pastor Rich looked up at me, a mix of fear and malice in his eyes, “...do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” I said, holding back tears, my voice wavering.
The pastor paused for a moment and looked away from me. “And here’s the problem. She’s gagged and not an active participant. This isn’t a wedding, this is a horror show, and I won’t be able to-”
He was cut off by the heel of my foot smashing into his forehead. He let out a yelp, spraying blood and spit into the air, then started screaming for help. I’m not proud of what I did next. I beat him mercilessly. I pummeled his ribs with my foot, then his groin, then got down on one knee and with one hand holding him by the hair I punched him repeatedly in the nose. I stopped when he started sobbing.
“Fucking finish the ceremony, old man,” I said to him, my hand still holding his hair.
He spoke again, although it was tough to make out the words due to his face being so dark and swollen. “Ooo yoo ake ish wan ooo eeee er awffurry edded usgan?”
I looked at my fiance. She was bawling, big black tears streaming down her face, mussing the makeup I had put on her last night. Damn, I thought, the wedding pictures will not be pretty now.
“Becca, sweetheart,” I said to her. She never told me her name, but I remember seeing it on her nametag that first night I saw her at the diner and so I’ve been calling her such ever since. “Please answer the man.”
She wailed behind her ballgag.
I let go of the pastor, got up and walked to her. I grabbed her face, she recoiled.again. I looked into her eyes, holding her face with both hands.
“Do this for me, please. I promise, this will be the only thing I ask of her.” I removed her gag slowly. “It’ll all be over once you answer the man.”
She looked at me, lip trembling. “I-I...I do.”
I smiled. I looked back at pastor Rich.
Shit. He looked passed out.
I walked over to him, kneeled down and slapped his swollen face a couple times. I heard a groan and he struggled in his binds.
“I believe you have one more thing to say,” I said.
He looked at me, his eyes nearly swollen shut. He looked sleepy, but I couldn’t tell if that was due to the swelling or the possible concussion I might’ve caused. I was tired of waiting, I cocked my hand back as if I would hit him again and that perked him up.
“Aiii ow urounsh ooo an an ife. Ooo aye ow iss uh ide.”
“Thank you pastor, you were wonderful,” I said, as I reached to my belt and pulled out my bowie knife. I slid the knife between the ribs on his left side and kept it there until he stopped breathing. I heard Becca scream, and I turned to her.
“Why are you doing this?! What’s wrong with you?!” she yelled at me, tears still streaming down her face.
“Because I love you,” said, getting to my feet, knife still in hand. “Becca, you’re my one and only.”
“Stop calling me that, that’s not my name! I borrowed my co-workers shirt, it was my first day!”
I walked to her, putting the knife back on my belt. I picked the ball gag off the ground and fastened it in her mouth again, she shouting protestations all the while.
“You know me better than anyone, even my dear departed mother. I’ve told you everything about myself, everything. You’re gorgeous, you’re amazing. You’re so much better than every other two bit girl in this stupid town. And I love you, and we belong together. You’re a great girl, and I’m a nice guy.”
I went to touch her face with my hand, but she pulled away and struggled against her ropes. I punched her in the abdomen and she doubled over. I grabbed her by the chin and pulled her head to eye level.
“Do you remember when you tried to leave? When my mother found you and in her shock she undid your shackles and you two left? You remember what I said to you after I brought my traitor mother, dead, to your feet and showed you what you did? I told you that if you would not love me in life you will love me in death. And I meant it. You did this, not me.”
I took the bowie knife from my belt and plunged it deep into her midsection. I pushed that knife in over and over, giving all my wasted emotions and unheard lamentations to it so that maybe it, this inanimate piece of steel, could make her realize what my words could not.
When I finally finished it was hours later and there was not much left of her. I looked at what I had created and sighed, knowing it would take a great while to clean this mess up. I knew I needed to do it sooner rather than later because I wanted to get back on the market. Just because my first marriage hadn’t worked out shouldn’t discourage me from finding true love.
I know the one for me is out there, I just know it. And I won’t stop until I find her.
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