If It Hurts This Much (Chaelisa)

Chapter 6

The day of the wedding

Lisa's standing in front of the mirror in the back room of The Foundry in Queens, staring at the reflection looking back at her.

There's something so different about her appearance, and it's not because she's in a short, white, lacy wedding dress that in about—oh, ten minutes—she's supposed to be wearing as she declares her eternal devotion to her fiancée, the person she believed until last night, was the love of her life.

It's because her dark chocolate eyes aren't shining as bright as they usually do, there's a duller shade to them. It's because her skin hasn't got its caramel glow that it usually sports, there's a duller shade to that, too. It's because right now there's some fucked up emotional turmoil that's screwing with her mind and it's getting harder and harder for her to keep her lungs functioning properly and her mind straight.

Because right now, she's having fucking doubts.

Right before her damn wedding, she's having fucking doubts.

It's some lame cliché that she would expect to see in a dumb ass movie, and she's almost at the point of considering looking around the empty room for a director, cameras, or anything like that.

What she does in the next few moments is forever going to affect her. There are a few possibilities of what she could do, all of which lead her down incredibly different, almost to the point of being opposite paths. It's intriguing to imagine these routes actually happening, but she knows she doesn't really have a choice. There aren't any options, and whatever she does is going to hurt someone. Someone incredibly dear to her.

Damn, this is so fucked up.

Her eyes trail up and down the length of her body. Her hair's hanging long and straight down the bare expanse of her back, with a weaved, floral halo hovering lightly on top. There's a small bouquet of white roses in her hands, which she's pretty sure mean purity, innocence or some shit like that, and that only adds to the guilt growing inside of her. Her make-up is mostly natural, a light layer of eye shadow, thick lashes with a thin coat of mascara and barely any foundation because her skin is pretty much flawless anyway, but nothing about what she's feeling is natural.

It's not right to be feeling like this before her wedding. It's not right that she's considering clambering out the small window to her right or that seeing any of her family or friends sounds like a nightmare right now. She should be fucking ecstatic, she should of course have the shaky hands and clammy brow, but she sure as hell shouldn't be wondering if this is the right thing to do or not.

"Lisa, are you ready?"

It's her mom, speaking through the medieval like door to her left. She didn't want Maria to be here, she knows it's some strange stunt that her mother's throwing so the people attending this wedding think the Manoban family isn't as fucked up as rumors have it, but it is no matter what the woman does.

Lisa's father isn't here—he's off in California with Miss-Spread-Her-Legs and their two illegitimate children—but she's got her brother to walk her down the aisle, so she isn't worrying about being a loner. Unfortunately her mother seems to have finally taken a break from bobbing her head up and down in her boss' lap beneath the lap, hoping for a raise, to be here, but Lisa couldn't really give a shit if the woman was or not. The capacity to give a fuck ran out a long time ago.

"Yes mother," she breathes. "I'm ready."

With one final breath, and what feels like a thousand ton of bricks on her chest, she mutters to herself that she's alright and walks towards the door. Her mother's standing on the other side in a red dress that a woman of her age really shouldn't be wearing, and long, dark hair, similar to her own, tied up in a side ponytail. Maria grins widely, and claps her hands together enthusiastically before engulfing Lisa in a hug.