Chapter 3
I stare at the pure white lace and silk gown on the hanger. Glancing at Diana, I tilt my head to the side as my eyebrows pull down in confusion. “It looks like a wedding dress.”
“Yeah, it kind of does. But all of your ball gowns look like wedding dresses to me.” Diana shrugs, unimpressed.
“No, they’re all ball gowns with flared skirts. This one is fitted, with a mermaid tale thingy and a deep cleavage. It’s also covered in lace. It’s…different.” I study the dress again, unsure why I”m so unsettled. The gown is exquisite, but I can”t believe it”s mine. “Are you sure my father sent this to me?”
“The box had your name on it, my lovely. Now, come on, let’s get you into it.” Diana gestures for me to put on my underwear and tries to figure out how to open the back of the dress. “This thing is complicated.”
“I noticed that,” I say, pulling my bra around to cover my breasts before sliding on the panties that match my skin tone perfectly. “I don’t like this.” I chew on my bottom lip, my eyes narrowed on the dress. Diana is the closest thing I have to a friend, the guard brave enough to speak to me. I feel I can safely voice my concerns to the other woman. “Something is going on.”
“I’m sure it’s just a new fashion phase in ballgowns. Maybe now you”re twenty-one, your father is allowing you to dress like a grownup and not some doll or cartoon character,” Diana reasoned, holding the dress open for me to step into. “Either way, this is the dress he had delivered for you. Step in, my lovely.”
I shrug, my trust in my father reasserting itself. Maybe I”m hormonal or something. My father has never given me a reason to doubt him, and if I can trust anyone, it”s him. Right?
I suck in my stomach as Diana pulls the dress up my body. I look down at myself to see the tops of my breasts on display and feel exposed. I look at the dress box hopefully. “Maybe there’s a lace jacket or something that goes with it?”
Diana shakes her head. “Nope, nothing else in there, only the dress.” She sounds distracted as I work my arms into the sleeves, and she zips, buttons, and laces me up at the back. “This is going to be terrible to take off later.”
“I’ll pull it over my head or something. Don’t worry about staying up and waiting for me. Father will ensure I’m back safe and sound later,” I reply confidently, smiling at Diana as I turn. I can barely breathe. I”m a curvy girl, and the dress is so tight, I”m sure my boobs are about to explode from the sweetheart neckline. “Unless you want to stay up and watch ‘I Married a Monster’ with me later?”
“You know I’m not supposed to let you watch TV,” Diana warns. She shakes her finger at me as if scolding a naughty child, but the corners of her lips turn up as she smiles. “But I do want to know if Clarissa chooses the orc or the gargoyle tonight. She”s been playing those two against each other from the beginning.”
“Ooh, yes. I want to know too,” I breathe, trying to hold back the laughter threatening to bubble free. If I laugh, I may faint from lack of air because I”m pretty sure the dress has already fractured one of my ribs. This dress is pure torture. Why did my father choose it? “I think I have a silk shawl in my bag. I’m going to grab that.”
“Oh, your father is ready for you,” Diana says, her eyes on her smartwatch. “He’ll be here in two minutes.”
“Thanks,” I answer, grabbing the shawl and wrapping it around myself to cover my exposed skin. I may legally be an adult now, but I”m not used to showing off my… assets.
Two minutes later, the door opens, and my father steps in, his face happier than I”ve ever seen when he spots me… until he frowns. “That shawl won’t do. Leave it here, dear.”
“Yes, Father,” I say, dropping the shawl with a wistful look. “You must be excited for the ball…”
“Indeed, I am. I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment. I promise you, Penelope, tonight will be unlike anything you’ve experienced.” My father chuckles as he takes my arm and guides me from my room to the elevator that will take us down to the waiting car.
I glance at my father, noting something cold in his demeanor, something that makes my skin prickle. Or maybe it”s the chilly air. The dress is sleeveless, and I”m used to being covered from head to toe, even during the hottest months of summer. I don”t say it aloud, but the evening is already unlike anything I”ve experienced.
We”re soon in the car, speeding down the highway, away from the city. I frown but don”t question what”s happening. My father knows best. So what if the ball is being held at a country estate? It”s not my place to question him. At least, not out loud.
When the car slows and pulls off an exit ramp, I look out, but the road is dark with no streetlights. The car slows again a few minutes later and starts up a private, paved driveway. In the distance, a huge mansion of black marble with black windows comes into view. Only one window is lit. But why is it so dark if there”s a ball there tonight?
The car comes to a stop, and I wait for my father to get out. My heart races, but I inhale a deep breath to calm myself and take his hand. I can trust him. I always have before. So why does it feel so different now? Why am I so…afraid?
“This will be the best night of my life. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve done, has led up to this moment, Penelope. Do not embarrass me,” my father says, his voice heavy with warning.
My confusion deepens, and my worries expand with the warning. Why would I embarrass him? And where are all the other attendees? I have no time to answer, however, because my father opens the front door and escorts me inside the quiet mansion.
Then, off in the distance, I hear notes from a piano. I recognize Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a song I usually love, but now? It sounds like a siren’s call to tragedy.
I grip my father’s arm looped around my waist and plead with my eyes for an explanation. “What’s going on?”
The deeper notes of the tune play, each pounding tone striking more fear into my heart. I”ve never been so terrified.
“It’s not quite a ball, as I told you, Penelope,” my father murmurs. “But it is the first day of the rest of your life.”
Dread strangles the words in my throat as the piano continues to play. “Father? What have you done?”
“Nothing that won’t be good for the family, my pure little flower,” my father replies, patting my hand as I claw at his arm. “You’ll thank me for this one day. Your whole life has been about this moment. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve accomplished, has been about this moment. Now, don’t mess this up for me.”
My father’s voice, usually coddling, usually beguiling, is now hard with a mercilessly cold edge. How he clenches my hand, how he forces me to keep walking forward when everything in me tells me to flee, to run as fast and as far as I can. My instincts scream that my entire life has been a lie, is a lie, and something truly awful is about to happen.
I take a deep breath, trying to slow my father’s pace to spare myself for a few more minutes. But he pulls at me, his hand around my waist to propel me forward. My thoughts race in my head, flitting between reassurance that my father knows what”s best for me and would never cause me harm to the unshakeable certainty that I”m lying to myself.
I think about the hateful way my mother has defied my father over the years, how she’s tried so hard to convince me that the man is a monster, how he’s lied to me. Was my mother right all along? I look down at my dress and realize my suspicions were correct. I”m not wearing a ball gown; I”m wearing a wedding dress.
It seems my father has arranged a marriage for me. He”s tricked me into coming to this mansion by telling me it was a ball like all the others we”ve attended. Something is wrong with this wedding. Is my groom an old man with false teeth and hemorrhoids? Is he ugly?
“Father, please, I beg you. Please take me home,” I gasp as he leads me through the vast house, past the foyer, and down a long hallway. The somber notes from the piano continue, making my skin crawl as though the music foretells my doom.
“Now, Flower,” my father tries to soothe me, his soft southern accent grating on my nerves rather than calming me. Why have I never noticed how creepy his voice is? “You have to do this. There is no escape. I told you I’ve been planning for this day for a long time. Before you were even born, in fact.”
“What do you mean?” I demand, hoping to stall for a few moments longer, to put off this farce for a few seconds more.
“I chose your mother on purpose. She was a drug addict I picked up off the street. A woman nobody would pay any attention to or notice if she went missing. I had to plan ahead, you see, to ensure she wouldn’t be a problem after I got her pregnant and she had you. I knew I’d have a girl because you have a purpose. I needed her to give me you,” he rattled off, his fingers digging into my waist, revealing the truth hidden from me my entire life.
“Why would you do that, Father?” I whisper, fear strangling my throat in a tight grip. “Mother was right, wasn’t she? You are a monster!”
My father chuckles softly, patting my arm condescendingly. “You women are so easily fooled, Flower. I should”ve taken care of your mother long ago, but she knew too much about me, about my plans. Once I got her clean and gave her stability, she turned on me. She managed to contact someone outside my organization. She found a way to get information to them. Threatened to expose me if I harmed you and told me that the evidence would be released if she died.”
His voice is hard now, hateful and full of malice. “But she kept her mouth shut long enough to get me to this day. Perhaps I’ll rid myself of her tomorrow as I’m ridding myself of you now.”
He falls silent as we make it to an open doorway. A black altar shines in the candlelight in the room of black marble. A man in black robes—a clergyman?—stands beside a monstrous beast.
Black, everything black.
That’s when I scream.