After promising Keith I’d keep my mouth shut about his personal issues with Mitch, we said our goodbyes. Although I could see where he was coming from, I also didn’t feel Mitch had done anything wrong. Was it his fault he was a good athlete? Or mine, because I could play a few instruments? Keith’s issues with Mitch were the same ones Kyle had with me. If we had certain talents, was it wrong of us to cultivate them if it overpowered the accomplishments of others? I didn’t have an answer to that, but one thing was clear: Mitch and I were a lot more alike than I’d ever realized.

Alone for the first time all day, I leaned against the door. As fun as the bachelor party had been, I felt like shit. Casey had given me the opportunity to come clean early in the evening, and I’d turned all predictable, denying that a problem existed and freezing her out. At the same time, would it even matter if I told her? Would it change the outcome of tomorrow? I knew she’d marry me no matter what confessions I made, but this one would surely hurt more than the others. This one involved our future and all she’d imagined it would be.

“Nothing you can do now,” I said out loud, pushing off the door and brushing off the nagging guilt. My stomach growled. Keith had filled the party with candy, chips, and sweet stuff, but nothing of any substance really. I picked up the phone and called room service. A steaming plate of steak fajitas was delivered to my door a mere thirty minutes later. That had to be some record. I enjoyed my dinner, stripped to my boxers as I watched an entire episode of Hoarders because, quite frankly, I couldn’t look away.

Turning it off before I could get sucked into another episode, I retreated to the bathroom to complete the shit, shower, and shave portion of the evening. And, using our hallway encounter as inspiration, I jerked off without ever having to cover my tracks.

Yep, all in all, it was a good last night as a free man. The peace and quiet alone should have been enough to buoy my spirits. Not to imply that Casey talks a lot… although she does have a lot to say… about everything… at all times…

Okay, she talks a lot.

But that was part of her charm. Since meeting Casey, my stress levels had plummeted. There were times even when we were apart that we’d text or Facetime and I could feel her with me. We could be in separate countries and still be connected. So why was it tonight seemed so different? Even though we were in the same hotel, the distance between us felt wide as if we were on two edges of a fault line, and my side was crumbling fast. Dammit! I’d squandered my chance to enter our marriage with a clean conscience… or as least as clean as it ever could be, given my sordid past. Maybe it wasn’t too late. I picked up my phone to text her and see if we could meet, but then I caught sight of the time – 1:48 in the morning. She’d be sleeping by now, and if I woke her, it would only be cause for alarm. I put the phone back down and stood in place, feeling strangely disoriented. A sudden eeriness displaced the stillness in the room, and I was struck by the sensation that I wasn’t alone. I drew in a sharp breath as chills prickled my skin. Oh, god, not tonight. On high alert, I paced the room, checking the windows and walls as if that might ward off an unwanted visit.

Yet I knew better. If they wanted me, they’d come at night, while I slept. That was when I was most vulnerable and unable to fend them off. Why now? It had been over a year since the last ambush, and nothing had changed in that period of time. They knew damn well I couldn’t give them what they wanted. Hell, they couldn’t demand such things from me in the first place because they weren’t even real! At least that’s what I told myself, because if I really was having nocturnal visits from dead people, then I had bigger problems than I cared to admit.

I had to assume the anxiety over keeping secrets from Casey the night before our wedding was what brought them to my doorstep at this late hour. They’d always fed off my stress, but since meeting Casey, there hadn’t been as much of it to go around. But tonight, alone and susceptible, it would be a virtual feeding ground. I needed to shut them down before they could ever get started because, if there was one thing I was certain of, the ghosts of horrors past were here to ruin my wedding, and a trip down Ray Davis’s memory lane was sure to do just that.

Staying alert was key. I couldn’t risk closing my eyes. Not tonight. Not on the cusp of having everything I’d ever wanted. Precautions needed to be taken. Without haste, I flipped the in-room coffee maker on and began brewing the first of many cups. The hope was that a heavy influx of caffeine might help me outwit and outlast my tormentors. If I could just make it to morning, the light flooding through the windows would drive out their darkness.

With the remote in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, I watched another episode of Hoarders and had begun on the third when an unexpected development drew a startled gasp from my throat. I’m no expert, but once you start finding petrified cats under piles of trash, don’t you think maybe your hoarding problems have exceeded the skillset of a Hollywood television host? Changing channels in rapid succession, I didn’t stop until I found one that was off air. I stared at the blank screen, mesmerized by the soft hum. The white noise was working in much the same way Casey’s relaxing buzz did.

I stayed strong for a couple of hours, keeping the unwanted visitors at bay, but as my drowsy eyes began to droop, even the endless cups of coffee were not enough to save me. Slowly I drifted off into oblivion and into the nightmare world, which now only existed in my dreams. Whether I liked it or not, another night would be laid to waste in Ray’s handcrafted hell. Only tonight I wouldn’t be suffering alone, as I’d been joined by a handful of angry spirits hell-bent on making me pay.

My unwelcome companions had first appeared to me at one of the lowest points of my life, during a time when hallucinations had become my new reality. Talking bugs, bleeding walls, and spiteful spooks had all become a part of my uninvited extended family. Emerging through the cracks in the rickety floorboards, each apparition was more ghastly than the next. Even as a thirteen-year-old kid banging his fist on death’s door, I knew instantly who they were… the alumni, if you will, of Ray’s former victims… but what they wanted from me had yet to be revealed. In all their deathly decay, the ghosts had materialized after the injury to my knee and stayed with me throughout that last excruciating week of captivity.

At first I’d cowered in their presence, begging for mercy, as I assumed their presence was an ominous sign, a signal of my impending demise. However, the only pain they ever inflicted was on my impaired mind; which, at the time, could no longer be trusted. It soon became clear that these were no murderous ghouls, but tortured young souls fighting, just as I was, to free themselves from a killer’s hold. They were not my adversaries, but my brothers-in-arms – the band of bloody misfits I’d been destined to share the afterlife with; or at least, that had been the plan until I made my harrowing escape and left them to their misery for all of eternity.

It was with these doomed spirits that I spent the final night of my pre-wedded life, tossing and turning, covered in a cold sweat as I battled the ghosts of nightmares past. I think it goes without saying that when morning mercifully rolled around, I was far from the confident, enthusiastic groom Casey expected me to be. Hell, at this point, she’d be lucky if I wasn’t babbling incoherently in a corner after the nocturnal torture session I’d just survived. How was I supposed to get my head right before the ceremony with the memory of a half a dozen souls screaming in my ear?

This was exactly why I’d fought to keep awake. Now I was a mess, and I had no one to blame but myself. It was too late to contact Casey. Besides, what could she do, anyway? I just had to pull it together on my own and get through the day. All I needed was a little self-soothing. What had I read again on that topic? Ingest hard drugs. Uh, yeah, probably not the best idea. Talk about swapping one problem for another.

Maybe I could take a cue from toddlers and get into the habit of thumb sucking. That seemed to calm them right down, but… oh, hell, who was I kidding? I’d tried it before and it didn’t fucking work!

The only other thing I could think of on such short notice was deep breathing. Yes, that one seemed reasonable. I mean, how hard could breathing be? I did it all day long. We had a winner. Focusing on taking long, soothing inhales while blowing out the air in loud, exaggerated grunts, I soon discovered it did nothing but make me focus on inhaling and exhaling, and in no time at all, I was hyperventilating and breathing into a paper laundry bag I found in the closet.

Okay, so this was definitely not working. Soothing myself had been an epic fail, and now I only had three more hours left to get my shit together. I needed Casey. Picking up my phone, I called her number but was disappointed when it went to voicemail. I didn’t bother leaving a message. She was getting married today. There was no way she had time for me.

My thoughts were interrupted by a hasty series of knocks on my door. Because I’d awakened so late, I’d slept through the meeting time with my groomsmen. I opened the door to Kyle, who immediately startled at my appearance.

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” he asked. “Why aren’t you ready?”

“Rough night.”

His eyes rolled over me. “I should say so.”

“Why? Do I look that bad?”

“Well, remember that time you got the stomach flu and it was coming out of both ends for two days straight?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, so, you look only slightly better than that.”

“Dammit. Okay. I’m going to jump in the shower. Can you stall for me?”

“Please. You know that’s my specialty.”

Talking to Casey was going to have to wait. I’d just have to get ready and meet her at the church. I’d be cutting it close, but what was the alternative?

* * *

Peaking out the door, I eyed the building across the courtyard. The last time I was here, I’d been forced to run across the patio area to avoid getting caught by a group of teens, but this time I didn’t see anyone but a security guard patrolling the area. Nice. Operation Pretzel was in full swing. It appeared Casey and I had pulled off the impossible. I’d arrived at the church a while back, and after meeting with the minister and dressing in my tux, I was ready to go with an hour and a half to spare. This was the time I’d slip over to the other building and pull Casey aside. It would be a quick trip, long enough for me to come clean and get back to my side if she still wanted to marry me after my confession.

Just as I was pushing the door open, a hand reached out and slammed it shut in my face.

“I wouldn’t do that, Jake.”

Winded and flushed, Kyle stood beside me panting as his hand gripped the door handle, preventing my exit.

“I need to see her real quick.”

He raised one brow. “Before the wedding? Bad choice, dude.”

“Look, I know all about the wedding rules, but this can’t wait.”

“Actually, it might have to,” he said. “We’ve got a minor security issue.”

“I just checked. Everything looks good… right?”

“Um….” Kyle hesitated. “It depends on what your definition of ‘good’ is.”

“Probably the same as most people’s. Why? What happened?”

“It appears we’ve had a leak, but there’s no reason for alarm. It’s really not a big deal. Security is handling it.”

“Does that mean the media is here?”

“They are,” he affirmed. “And a few fans, too, but they’ve been pushed back.”

“Pushed back? That doesn’t sound like a few.”

“It depends on your definition of ‘a few.’”

“Three or four… a few.”

“Right, so our definitions are a bit different. When I say ‘a few,’ I’m talking in the hundreds.”

“Agh, Kyle! Just spit it out! You’re starting to piss me off.”

“We’ve got a few hundred fans and paparazzi gathered outside the church. But the local police are on it, and so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“The local police, now? Are we going to have a problem getting to the reception?”

“Um…,” he hesitated again. “You know.”

I glared at Kyle.

“It might be best to take the pictures in the church, is all I’m saying.”

“Why?”

“We’ve got an overhead issue.”

“Overhead? As in a helicopter?”

“… -ers,” Kyle corrected, wincing. “As in plural.”

I could feel the frustration bubbling over. “So let me get this straight. We’ve got a militarized operation going on right outside the church doors, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Hey,” Kyle said, throwing his hands up. “Don’t bust my balls. I’m just the delivery boy, here to escort you to those on the security team that actually matter.”

I glanced back over to the other building, trying to decide what to do, but in the end, the approaching thump of rotary blades made the decision for me.

“Shit! Take me to Vadim.”

* * *

The long hallway curved around the back of the church, connecting the bride’s room with the groom’s. I’d been here before; had taken this exact passageway to sneak back to Mitch and the guys after the secret rendezvous with Casey a little over two years ago. Arriving at the end of the corridor, I shifted nervously outside the door where Casey was waiting for the ceremony to begin. Chances were pretty damn high she wasn’t going to appreciate my last-minute intrusion. The meeting with Vadim, the head of my security team, had taken longer than I’d expected, and now I was cutting it way too close.

I’d hoped my self-preservation instincts would kick in and I’d be able to just push the entire discussion until after we were married, but that approach had me feeling like a fraud. She needed to hear this before we were wed. This was no little white lie I’d been withholding from her. No; this was a life-altering truth, one big enough to put an industrial-sized damper on all our lofty hopes and dreams. How could I, in good conscience, bind myself in holy matrimony to Casey, knowing I might not be able to give her what she wanted most in the world? Dating her was one thing – she still had an out – but strapping myself to her side till death did us part, under false pretenses, well… someone needed to warn the poor girl, and that someone, unfortunately, had to be me.

Opening the door to the bride’s waiting area, I was assailed by the surging backdraft of cheap hairspray and high-end perfume. Unprepared for the onslaught of noxious chemicals, my reaction time was too slow, and before I had time to take cover, I’d already snorted up the poisonous vapor like a line of coke. The unwelcome olfactory stimulation drew an almost instantaneous pounding in my head, and a steady stream of toxic tears dripped from my eyes.

Still determined to find my bride, I stumbled my way through the plume only to find myself blocked once again, this time by a barrier of wall-to-wall green. I’d almost forgotten Casey had chosen this specific accent color until it assaulted my senses. Green … oh, wait, sorry: mint. She’d been very specific about that distinction, as if mint were not even a distant relative of the green family. In hindsight, I should have put my foot down on her color choice. And maybe I would have had I not lost my veto power after casually throwing out the idea of dressing the bridesmaids in black. Casey’s highly sarcastic response had been, “Ooh, yes, great idea. We could dress up the flower girls in some black lace, smoky eyeliner… maybe add an eyebrow piercing or two … or better yet, Jake, a neck tattoo.”

It took a moment to realize the excited buzz that had greeted me upon entering the room had now been replaced by hushed whispering, and every female in the place was staring back at me in horror. I usually got a better reception from women. Wiping the tears from my burning eyes, I took a step back, surprised by the adverse reaction I was receiving. Okay, so maybe I’d underestimated the breaking of the ‘Do not see the bride before the ceremony’ wedding ritual, but did Casey’s nearest and dearest really have to act like I’d broken one of the Ten Commandments?

“Jake!” My mother swiftly crossed the room, appearing suddenly nauseous. “What are you doing? You can’t be here.”

“I need to talk to Casey.”

“The wedding is about to start. Does your father know you left?”

“I don’t know. I don’t run everything by him. I really need to talk to Casey.”

Her eyes darted around nervously. “You’d better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” she whispered, gripping my arm and trying to steer me from the room.

“Mom!” I dug my feet in and pulled my arm from her hold.

Casey’s voice sounded from somewhere beyond. “It’s okay, Michelle.”

The bridesmaids parted the sea of green, and at the end stood my bride, radiating beauty in a strapless white wedding gown. I’d always thought Casey was pretty, but today, in that plunging neckline sprinkled in crystals … and the soft veil and the white flowers … the sight of her nearly brought me to my knees. I swallowed hard, trying to remember the reason for my intrusion until I caught sight of Casey’s eyes, flooded with tears. It was only then that it dawned on me why everyone was gaping at me now: they thought I was breaking off the wedding. Certainly the chemically induced tears I was shedding had done nothing but drive home the misperception that I was here for nefarious reasons.

“Casey, I…”

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, putting a hand up to stop me. Our eyes met, and hers were blazing. With her head held high, Casey grabbed her dress and stomped toward the door. “Not here. At least give me that one courtesy.”