Liona
The sun shown in through the windows of the bride room, nestled at the back of the church. It was Liona Copeland's wedding day. She had no idea how she was going to go through with marrying the son of a bitch. What had she been thinking getting this far into everything?
“Look up for me, honey,” said the makeup artist, an attractive young woman with a mascara brush daintily held in one hand who looked like something out of a ‘Riot Grrl’ magazine spread. She leaned forward and applied the mascara, sculpting Liona's eyelashes up and out, thickening and elongating them.
Done, the younger woman turned back to her makeup case and began rummaging for the next tool in her arsenal. Liona took the opportunity to watch the light dance on the far wall, wishing she could be just like a ray of sunlight. Shooting out into the galaxy, and somewhere far, far away from here.
Just, please, take me anywhere but here.
“You look gorgeous,” her oldest friend and maid of honor Carly cooed from behind her. She looked stunning in her burgundy bridesmaid gown. She had slipped in a few moments prior, but hadn't said a word as the young makeup artist applied Liona's makeup. Now, she came up behind Liona and put her hands on her bare shoulders, squeezed softly. “You're going to look so beautiful up there, next to Wyland.”
Liona forced a smile. She didn't feel gorgeous or beautiful. Instead, she felt like a sucker, like someone who was just going along for the ride. She knew deep down that none of this was worth the fancy clothes, the nice car, or the beautiful apartment Wyland provided for her with his salary and trust fund. She was a woman kept in a gilded cage, a pretty pet he could keep on his arm and display for all his family friends and future political donors. She was arm candy, and every time she thought about it, she wanted to wretch.
Carly's eyes glanced down, caught the look in Liona's. “You feeling okay, hon?”
Liona closed her eyes and shook her head. “Just nervous, that's all,” she partially lied. She was nervous, that was true. But, she was also terrified. Her husband-to-be was Wyland West, the junior district attorney. His family went far back in this town, and he had connections everywhere. He was handsome, well connected, and well heeled. He had graduated top of his class at law school, and he had big plans for his future. And mine, she thought disdainfully.
To her friends and family, he was a catch. Wyland was almost the perfect man, it seemed. He took care of all her financial needs, giving her an ample allowance and everything she could want. But, like all things, if a deal was too good to be true, it probably was.
She almost spat the words out, just then: that Wyland had gotten physical with her. Had been getting physical with her for a while now. But, Liona knew she'd just look like a fool for letting her confession spill out of her that way, especially after the years and years of torment he'd put her through.
Why hadn't she told them sooner, they'd ask. Why had she agreed to marry him?
For years, she'd thought everything would just magically get better. That he'd eventually lose that punchy tendency of his, to enforce his words with his hands. Her situation had only gotten worse and worse as she'd slipped more and more under his control. And now, she didn't know how to get out from under his thumb.
He wouldn't let her get a job, or have friends he didn't approve of. Yes, she had money, but she was questioned about every penny she spent. She'd thought about just running away, about hopping on a plane and taking off for some part of the country, never to be seen or heard from again. Maybe get a passport and flee the country.
But how would she live? She hadn't had a job in years, and all her money was tied up in accounts he controlled. And, if Liona ever said a word, deep down she knew what would happen to her. She felt it, without being able to describe how. He'd kill her.
For that reason, she didn't even want to imagine what bringing children into that life would be like. She'd be even more in his clutches, then. And, knowing him, he'd use the children against her. He was just that kind of man: small, petty, sadistic.
“You sure?” Carly asked again, concern in her voice. “Want me to get you a pop or something, to keep your blood sugar up?”
No, she didn't want a pop. She wanted to fly away, sail upon the wind like a fallen leaf, and land somewhere, anywhere, just so long as her destination wasn't here.
“Sure,” Liona replied, instead, a fake smile on her lips, “that sounds great.”
Carly bustled out of the room to go find her friend a drink.
“Almost finished,” the makeup artist said. “Already had your hair stylist in, I see.”
“Just before you,” Liona replied. “In and out, and working on the rest of us, now.”
“You know, I gotta say you're taking this really well.”
“How so?” Liona asked as the younger woman pulled out her setting spray.
“Well, for one,” the makeup artist said as she shook the bottle, “you're a lot calmer than most of the brides I deal with. Most of them are flying off the handle, frantic about this being their perfect day.”
“Well,” Liona said, closing her eyes as the woman began to spray her face, “that's why we hired a wedding coordinator. Besides, this was more about what he wanted.”
“Him?” the woman asked, giving a light chuckle. “That's kind of funny. Most guys I've dated could give two shits about this kind of thing. Hell, my boyfriend thinks we should just do it on the beach.”
“What about you?” Liona asked.
“Me? I love weddings. Especially other people's! They pay my rent, after all.” She paused and grinned before continuing. “Mine, though? Beach doesn't sound too shabby, if you ask me.”
Liona smiled. Years ago, back in high school, she'd known a man like that. The kind of guy who was down to earth, strong, caring, good with his hands. Sure, he'd been a little awkward but looking back, who wasn't at that age?
She'd chosen Wyland, instead. He promised her a great future, the kind of life she knew growing up. With his family's money and his future career prospects, Liona knew he could deliver on those promises. Not for the first time, she doubted the decision she'd made all those years ago. She didn't even know where he was, anymore. He could be dead for all she knew, or a thousand miles away.
“Well, this is more to impress his family, and their friends than it is to make me happy,” Liona confided. “If it were up to me, I'd get married by Elvis in a Vegas drive-thru.”
The girl grinned and began to look over her handiwork. “Almost there,” she said. “Just a few more minutes, and we'll be able to get you in that dress.”
Liona smiled, grateful she could at least let slip her own views on the wedding, if not her complete fear of the future. That was one small thing she had, at least. One small protest.
Not that it mattered.