The veil was thick. Her parents had said it was to keep demons at bay.
Vows exchanged, her “husband” lifted the netted curtain from her delicate face, and she saw him for the first time… He was the demon! His eyes told her so: bright blue irises upon jet-black sclera.
What cult was this?
The words, “Till death do us part,” resonated like an adrenaline snake writhing inside her gut: slipping, squeezing, tightening. This, alongside memories of the last few days: the constant companion approving her every move, the pre-nuptial agreement she had signed, the life insurance policy…
Shayla, took a step back, lifting her heavy skirts. One breath in, she turned and ran down the steps of the altar and fast down the isle, past her deceitful betrothing parents, towards the double doors and out – but the noon sky was dark. There was nothing there, nothing at all…
© kym darkly
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