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I needed to finally let her go. Marrying her off would be easy; I wouldn’t have to see her every day. Wouldn’t catch her rose scent lingering in the air. Hear her soft voice down the halls. Because as much as I wanted her, I could never have her.
She was my brother’s widow. I could never betray him like that. Even in death.
6
Grace
My hands glided over my dress, smoothing out a wrinkle that didn’t exist. Empty eyes stared back at me in the mirror. The same expression I’d had every day since my wedding.
I averted my gaze, so I didn’t have to see it. Feel it. But it was too late. I could feel the void coming to suck me away. To make me empty.
I felt like nothing but a doll. Something Mitchell could dress up and show off. I was his perfect wife accessory. I had to put on a façade. Hide the bruises. Pretend his touch didn’t make me want to throw up. Ignore the dirty deals he made. Try not to know what he was doing.
And when we got home, he’d punish me for all the things I’d done wrong.
My smile wasn’t bright enough. My dress was too revealing. I was stupid.
Ugly.
Boring.
The list was never-ending. And now I was going to do it all over again with another man.
I wished I still believed in love. Wished I’d still had that hope that sustained me through years. I’d held onto it through my parent’s abandonment. Through foster homes and group homes. Through loneliness.
My hope in love had been like a warm blanket protecting me from turning cold. Until Mitchell had ripped it off. Showed me how dark and cold this world could really be.
I tried to find that hope again. Tried to believe that one of the men they wanted me to marry could be a good man. That he would take care of me.
I’d ached for love my whole life. To have even a single person who found me worth caring for. Worth spending time with. Worth keeping.
But I’d never found it.
My parents had abandoned me at the hospital. Checking out and leaving their infant daughter alone in the harsh world. Years later, I’d found no explanation.
So, instead of loving parents, I went to a foster home. And then another. And another. And another. You’d think eventually I’d stop trying. I’d grow hard and unfeeling. But I wasn’t smart enough to learn to protect myself.
With each new family, I hoped they’d want me. That they’d give me the love and affection I’d been craving. But they always sent me back. I was too needy. Too clingy. Begged for too much attention.
And each time, a new bruise formed on my heart until it was no longer red. It was black and blue. Barely able to beat.
Then, at eighteen, the system had spit me out. No money. No family. No home.
I’d struggled for a year, doing odd jobs. Waitressing at a diner, stocking at a grocery store, babysitting for a family. But just like before, nothing stuck.
And that’s how Mitchell found me. Alone and desperate for love.
He’d preyed on a lonely teenager. Only when his fists hit me for the first time did I realize my role in life. I wasn’t meant to be loved. I was born to be discarded.
I stopped hoping that day. Stopped waiting for someone to save me. For life to get better. I gave up. Until those two lines appeared on the test.
My heart had started to heal. I was going to have someone to love. Someone who would love me.
I’d had dreams for them. They would be safe. Happy. I’d give them everything I could. They’d never lie in bed and wonder if they were good enough. They’d have a home.
Then it had all been ripped away. I died that day.
So I guess it didn’t matter that the Kents were now selling me off like cattle. There was nothing left to take.
