Marriage, a sacred vow. A promise of a eternal companionship. One that is filled with understanding, trust and most important of all, love.
I still remember May 15, the day I stood upon that gleaming altar, looking into a future that I thought was going to be filled with contentment. However, that was just a misguided premonition.
I remember.
I remember exactly how I felt in that dress. That dress which costed weeks of searching and thousands of dollars. It was silly to spend so much on a dress I would never wear again, but it was all worth hearing him say the three most melodic words:
"You look beautiful."
Marianne stared at her husband with an intense look that longed for something that was far gone. As she once again realized this truth, her eyes cried the most delicate tears. Her chapped lips were pursed tightly as to not wake the person occupying the space next to her.
After moments of self-loathing and regretful tears, Marianne gather all her strength to lift her fragile body up. Her head felt heavy as all of the blood collecting in her brain rushed down dramatically. Her body didn’t feel vivid. She felt both light as a feather and heavy as boulder.
With a deep and prolonging sigh, she got off the bed and dragged her feet out of the room and shuffled her soulless body down the hallway. Even though she was in a hypnotic and depressive state, all her senses became more heightened. She felt everything, from the coldness of the wooden floor to the vibration of the haunting grandfather clock.
Marianne made her way to her daughter’s room; she cautiously opened the meek door. The sight of Beth’s peacefully sleeping body softened Marianne's heart. Avoiding the creeks of the old house, Marianne made her way towards Beth’s bed, and with a soft motherly hand, she nostalgically ran it across Beth’s cheek. Her hand lingered on the little girl’s swollen eyes, caused by the chaotic cries of last night. Marianne blamed herself for causing such agony in her daughter. She failed as a mother. As that thought manifested in her mind, a single tear for her sweet daughter fell off the side of her cheek, provoking a fresh wound.
As she couldn’t bare another second seeing the heart-wrenching effects she caused for her innocent daughter, Marianne left Beth’s room. As she dazely walked down the staircase, her eyes panned across the bruised living room. A deep scar in the wall caused by an impactful fist drew her attention. As she stared deeply at the hole in the wall, she uttered a single sigh and felt so hopeless of the future that lied ahead.
She next turned her attention to the relic that stood upon an accent table. She picked up the frame, as if it was a delicate newborn baby; her eyes were filled with the longing sensation of what was. The people in the picture looked so happy and unaware of the storm that was creeping up towards them. Marianne, once again, let another teardrop, one filled with regret and nostalgia, slide down her face. The salty tears seeped into the wound that blemished her right eye. Subconsciously, Marianne lightly pressed on the bruise, sucking in a sharp breath.The pain on her face quickly triggered a series of emotions to overcome her.
Why did this happen? What did I ever do to deserve this? Why can’t we go back to the way we were? Happy and perfect. It's all that damn alcohol's fault. Dammit.
Tears flowed out of her eyes uncontrollably, and the pain caused by the bruise became nothing but an inconvenience compared to the pain in her heart. She stood in front of the photo for a good thirty minutes while trying to control a fit of unsteady, shaky breaths. After finally calming and comforting herself, Marianne heard light footsteps approaching the living room. She quickly wiped off any evidence of the tears. Her face scrunched up in agony as the figure behind her let out a nonchalant and sleepy breath, uttering, "What’s for breakfast, Honey?"
