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The time on my phone reads 6:20. In ten minutes someone is going to knock on that door and take me to him. I look back at the open window with the breeze and freedom on the other side. It’s not a test. He made a mistake. He fucked up, and I will never forgive myself if I don’t take this opportunity.
I have no idea where I’ll go or how I’ll get there, and I don’t know what awful thing will happen to me when he finds me, but I have to try. I have to just… go. I will never forgive myself if I don’t try to escape.
I climb out the window and finally I take in the open space around me. For the first time in months, I feel like I could go anywhere… with no eyes on me, no surveillance, no security detail. Just me and the great big world.
I walk across the grounds under several shade trees, and right before I reach a giant oak growing next to the parking lot, a man dressed in all black steps out from behind the tree. He has dark hair and even darker eyes. He looks to be about early-to-mid fifties, but a hot early-to-mid fifties. There’s just a touch of grey at his temples. Something about him is familiar, but I can’t place it.
He is cold. Sociopath, my mind supplies. I have never been more sure that there is nothing inside a person than in this moment. It is a husk. On the outside, he looks like a man, and he could probably be very charming if he wanted to be, but the reality underneath is just cold terrifying emptiness.
Is that what Aidan is? Is that what I’m about to be bound to forever?
The man smokes a cigarette, and those coal black pits of despair he probably thinks are eyes bore through me as if he’s assessing prey. I actually feel my blood run cold. I really just thought that was a metaphor, but I’m telling you right now… it is not. It is an actual real thing. My heart beats hard in my chest as I start to back away.
He gives me a long slow once over and takes another drag on his cigarette as he advances.
“Nice dress,” he says.
“Ummm, thank you,” I squeak out. I assume he’s on Aidan’s side of the church. There’s no way my family knows a guy like this who seems like Death himself has come to visit my wedding.
“Ummm are you… uh… do you work for Aidan? Or ummm part of the family?”
Does that sound like I just asked if they were the mob? Is someone going to whack me for that? I don’t know the protocol.
He just chuckles. “No, sweetheart. I’m the man who made Aidan who he is today. I’m Brian Sloan.” He says it like it’s a name I should know. Like he thinks he’s famous or something. I have no idea who this guy is.
This is the point at which a normal person offers their hand for a polite handshake, but happily Brian doesn’t seem to engage in such formalities. He just takes another drag on his cigarette and stares at me.
My gaze darts around the grounds, searching for an escape that doesn’t have me running right back into my cage like a little idiot.
“The last time I saw you… was a Valentine’s Day party. You were six. You were a cute fucking kid, but you broke his heart. It was really hard for me to let that go.”
A slow awareness dawns on me, and I realize why this guy seems familiar. He was the angry dad who looked so scary after I laughed at Aidan. But he can’t be Aidan’s dad. I thought he died? I can’t remember all the details, but I knew Aidan had a weird living situation back when we were kids.
“Are you the uncle he lived with?” I ask, continuing to make hysterical small talk because there is a part of me that thinks this guy might be about to kill me right now, and I’m living in the delusion that if I keep him talking, he’ll somehow magically grow a heart, see my humanity, and let me go, rather than pull my arms off and let me flop around until I die which honestly feels like his actual plan right now.
“No, no actual relation. I’m like a father to him, though. I’m sure you and I will see more of each other in the future.”
The absolute last thing I ever want is to see this terrifying wraith of a person again.
A woman approaches us, and I feel relief at no longer being alone with this man. She has long dark flowing hair, an olive complexion, and sharp cat-like green eyes. She isn’t dressed like normal people dress for weddings. She’s dressed like an assassin from a spy movie. Black leather pants, spike-heeled boots. Black leather corset. Around her throat is a platinum band with black and white diamonds.
“Those will kill you, my love,” she says.
Brian, looking momentarily human, drops the cigarette on the ground and grinds it down under his boot. “Mina, what are you doing out here?”
She wraps her arms around him and turns to look me over. A long slow once over, much like Brian’s, only slightly less predatory.
“Nice dress,” she says.
“Thank you,” I say again, less squeaky this time.
“The bride here is trying to escape,” Brian says, conversationally to the woman who is his… girlfriend? Wife? Partner in crime? It’s hard to tell.
“That’s so cute,” she says. Then she turns to me, her tone more serious. “I would advise against it.”
So maybe Aidan didn’t fuck up and he did think of everything. I can’t have bad enough luck that this guy just happened to be standing out here. I glance wistfully off toward the parking lot, praying for a moving car that I can just… I don’t know… jump into the passenger side of as its trying to leave? But no one is leaving, apparently including me.
“You wouldn’t get very far in those shoes,” Mina says. I know she can see the desperation in my eyes as I pray for a rescue that isn’t coming.