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I screamed. I struggled against the bindings. I threatened.
Nothing stopped Liz. She took what she wanted, without a care to those around her.
And Ryder? He was forced to carry that burden alone.
* * *
There was no wedding.
After Liz had finished, she had deemed herself too tired to continue with the festivities. She had dragged my chair back into the bedroom and had pulled Ryder into her own.
Ryder hadn’t even fought. He just stared blindly ahead as if the world was crushing him. Suffocating him. Killing him.
As if the world had forsaken him.
I shoved my face into my pillow, and I cried. For Ryder. For me. For the boys left behind.
My sobs made my body shake, but I couldn’t stop them. I wouldn’t.
It was the only thing I could give Ryder, my beloved. I couldn’t save him, but I could offer him my prayers and empathy. I understood what he was going through, and I also understood that comfort was not always wanted. There were no words I could possibly offer him to mend what was broken.
The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the room in palest green and pink, when the bedroom door opened.
I turned, the bindings now around my waist making the movement immensely uncomfortable, to see a silhouette in the doorframe.
I would recognize him anywhere.
“She’s in the bathroom,” Ryder said simply. His voice was different than I had ever heard it before. Devoid of feeling. It was as if he was merely reciting a fact instead of discussing the monster that had assaulted him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I replied shakily.
Ryder didn’t respond. Instead, he merely walked into the room and gathered me into his arms.
Only a moment, did he allow himself to cry. He kissed my cheek, my nose, my neck. Sniffling. Sobbing.
Only a moment.
Just as quickly as he arrived, he left.
I heard Liz’s shrill voice, and I heard Ryder’s soft rumble, the exact words inarticulate.
With nothing else to do, I cried myself back to sleep.
* * *
I wokeup to the smell of coffee. Not an unpleasant smell by any means, but my hackles became raised as I peeled open my crusty eyelids.
Liz stood at the foot of my bed, hand warmed by a steaming cup of the delicious liquid.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully. All I could do was glare at her.
There were no words that could adequately describe my anger and hatred towards her. The loathing I felt just by staring at her elfin face suppressed anything found in the dictionary. Normally, I wouldn’t have minded my lack of eloquence. Just then, though, I wanted to bombard her with every horrible word I knew. I wanted her to understand pain even if it was only in the form of words.
Silence was the next best thing.
Seemingly unperturbed, or able to fake indifference better than I could’ve, Liz set her coffee cup down on my bedside table.
“I was hoping you could join us for breakfast today,” she said, smiling happily. “My best friend and my husband.”
