2- Scared
2326 Words
I am so nervous.
I thought my chest will explode as I stared at the live video footage of the happenings inside the house of my bride.
She’s so beautiful and radiant in her wedding dress. And a little later, she will be my wife.
Even if I am nervous as hell, I can’t help but feel happy and blessed.
She definitely loves me.
Because she stayed.
Even if I am half of a man that she wanted and needed, she will still marry me.
Marry a man. A scarred and one-legged bastard.
I continue to watch her as she gets in the car and is now on her way to church.
On her way to me.
She didn’t know that she’s being filmed, because she’s so aloof with cameras. But I—being paranoid—decided, and asked my friends to keep on track with her. That is why, I, together with our families, and every guest present at the church, watch her every action.
One moment, I was watching her every move, mesmerized by her smile…and on another second, I am watching—
My body becomes rigid and my face, stoic. I didn't know what the hell is happening?!
I heard the shouts and angry remarks behind me. I heard a hurtful cry coming from my mom, and my sister. The crowd became chaos…And I was glued to the floor. Watching how my bride…the love of my life, rutting the rental driver I get to drive her to me for our wedding.
“Don’t you love your groom?” I heard the driver asked as he plunged his length at the sinful mouth of my bride.
“Love?” she laughs. “This is a sacrifice babe, I’ve been chosen to be a tribute. Have you seen my groom? He is so damn, ugly with his deep scars! I didn't know why he has still a gut to face people with his scarred face and a single leg. I bet his d**k was damaged and will never make me come without me faking it.”
“Then why are you going to marry him?”
“Because once upon a time, he was hot and handsome. And his thick bank account is a good compensation for my sacrifice. You're huge and damn good. I’ll get your number, babe. And I’ll pay your big juicy meat and I bet you’ll make me happy.”
“Then let me show you how I will make your money worth—let me restate that. I will show you how your ugly husband’s money is worth,” they laugh together and rut at each other.
I didn’t leave my eyes as they were making each other happy and sated.
“Beau…” my sister hugged me from behind. “Let’s go bubba…you don’t have to watch it—”
“I will stay,” I decided.
I have to face this—her.
I want to hear it from her, from her sinful lips.
I want to know the reality coming from her so that my mind will absorb and for my heart to sink it in.
It didn’t take long when the cheaters arrived.
I was still at the altar, looking at her in a distance as she took off the car. I didn’t move even if she was being harassed by my mother and sister. I even didn’t blink as she was beaten, and almost ripped off on her wedding dress. The million-dollar dress I bought for her.
“Help!” she cried.
That is when I started to move and walk and stop in front of her. She looked up at me, and I hate that I can’t now recognize the sparks in her eyes.
Where is the love and affection in her eyes? All that has left are hatred and anger.
I looked at her with stiffness and I remained my face blank.
She struggled to get up, but as long as she stood still she slaps and spits on my face. I didn’t move, there is no reaction on me. But it earned her a couple of punches from my sister before she was held up by our father.
“You should be thankful that I will still marry you, despite you being useless!” she shouted at me.
“You b***h!” She earned another slap, this time it came from her own mother who was also frantically crying.
“One question, for the last time…please tell me the truth…” finally I asked. I want to tap my shoulders for being this strong despite feeling going down on my knees.
I look at her intently. “Did you ever love me?”
It was a long silence before she burst into laughter and said, “Never.”
“I know you don’t. But I hope you have lied to me,” I bluntly said and walked away.
It was years ago…
I moved from the city in Scotland to the valleys of Devon in England.
Here, nobody knows who I am, except for my name or the name they’ve given me—the one-legged grumpy man. No one knows what life I had before, or why did I end up having a single leg and a prosthetic leg on my other foot.
For them, I am just a wealthy grumpy disabled man, living in a big Victorian empty house on the valleys of the west coast in Devon.
I actually didn’t care and didn’t mind, as long as they didn’t f**k with me…then we will all be good.
I am grumpy. Yes, I am! Especially on this very season.
I hate winters! It always f***s up with my damn leg!
But I better move my ass out, or this bastard will be hungry for the next couple of weeks—or if I’ll be unlucky…I will be hungry for the entire season.
Winters in Devon are sometimes merciless.
I usually went down to town to get my supplies monthly. After I fled on that day, I didn’t like to be social anymore. That’s why I bought this damn house on the tip of a valley.
I barely see people in a month, and totally never get out of my house—not if it will not for supplies. I brought my job to my house.
Yes, the one-legged grumpy man has a job.
After serving for ten years in the military, I had a forced retirement after I was amputated. I was offered to be still in part of them, but in the intelligence department, and I politely not accepted it.
Because back then, I was ready to settle down.
I build my own business instead after I moved to Devon. I have a construction company, but I barely went to my building. I just appointed some people to fill my job on meetings and other stuff.
But there were still times that I went to my company because I am badly needed—just like today.
And speak of the devil—where the heck is my damn keys?
I bumped and stumbled on the couch as I was passing by. I was just thankful that it was the prosthetic foot that has been hit, or else, my toes will be sorry. I think it was one of the benefits of having an artificial leg.
As I found the forsaken keys—hidden under the couch—I drove my way down to town and didn’t mind that my entire amputated leg was already getting numb from coldness. I heard from the news that there will be a storm tonight, on the first day of snow.
I drop off at a grocery store first and filled the three big carts with groceries and supplies. I didn’t mind what I got. As long as I spotted it and felt in my gut that I will need it, I will just grab and toss the items inside my cart.
“Good day, ya,” the old man on the counter greeted me, as he punches in on my pieces of stuff.
“Good day man,” I answered. I honestly didn’t like to make conversations with others.
From that day—I find it hard to talk with people. I didn’t like the way their eyes travel around my body. They always check on the scars and tattoos on my arms and stares long on my amputated foot.
Long enough on my liking.
Some others are horrified by the way I look, but sometimes, if the person is kind, I get sympathy—which I really don’t need.
Suck it, but I really don’t need those!
That's also why I grew my beard and hair to hide my scars.
“Storing for the winter, yeah?” the old man asked. I don’t want to be rude so I forced myself to nod. “Oh man, must be your lucky day! You just won another grocery package worth five hundred pounds,” he announced with glee.
“Oh, I—thank you.” What can I say? I didn’t expect this to happen.
The old man packed the things I’ve bought together with the additional big pack of grocery items.
“Gotta wife and kids? The stuff is sanitary pads and milk formulas,” I was stunned by what he said.
I felt a pang of pain in my chest. It was not the intention of the old man to make me feel what I’ve been missing all my life, but I can’t help but to feel that thing.
“I don’t—” my phone rang and I silently cursed. I am late with my appointment.
I hurried out of the grocery, put my groceries in the car, and drove to my company.
I was already late when I arrived at the showroom of my company. The client was an enraged man—that I am used to dealing with. This kind of client, as long as they got a glimpse at my face, will be turned from a bitching dog to an adorable puppy. I always wear a ‘don’t f**k me’ face whenever I deal with them. Maybe because I still have these intimidating vibes, even if I don’t look like I used to be before.
It was not a long moment when the client agreed to my suggestions and became contented when I said that I will personally mix the paints he has chosen.
I send my employees home early so that they will not be stuck in the middle of the storm. I silently mixed and made sure the paints will turn out to be the choice of the clients. I also stock the galloons of paints on our truck that will deliver the items that the client ordered.
It was my third batch of galloons when I missed my steps and tripped. I fall off on my butt. The galloons of silver paint broke its lid and were poured all over me!
Damn, what a mess!
I ripped off my clothes, as I soaked and reek at the paint. I didn’t bother to clean myself when I cleaned the mess on the floor and mixed another batch of paints again.
It was already dark outside when I finished checking all the other orders of our clients.
And this moment of time will be hard for me to go to my car that was parked a block away from my building.
“What the f**k has gotten me, parking the damn car on the other block instead of at my building?” I hissed.
I went out of the building, f*****g-half-nude and chilling. I didn’t bother myself to put back the hardened clothes I had.
The pavements were already empty and the breeze was ruthless as I walked on the street. The storm was really coming and the snow was starting to fall.
I was almost at my car when a movement caught my eyes. I should have passed by and ignored what I just saw but my damn feet decided to act on their own, and it decided to stop and turned to where my eyes have just caught.
The scene was never new to me. I saw more merciful things than this. But I didn’t know what really has gotten me that my damn heart started achingly beating under my chest.
Feeling hypnotized, I can’t lift off my eyes to those darkest sets of eyes I’ve ever seen. Her eyes dilated and she was breathing hard. If it was not damn cold right now, I might think that this woman was sexually attracted to me. I snorted with that thought.
Who will be attracted to a man like me?
I decided to ask her if there was something I can help with. She seems to be very cold, despite being wrapped under many clothes and thick blankets.
I was feet away when I saw a boy tucked in her arms.
“You must be a cyborg,” the woman whispered but still audible to me—thanks to my good hearing.
I was awed and taken aback. I didn’t know what to do when after she talked, she fainted.
I really didn’t know what the heck has gotten me, because, in a flash moment, I just see myself running under the thickness of snow and ruthlessness of breeze, getting my damn car, carrying both the woman and the boy, and went back to stuff their baggage at the back of my car.
I still didn’t understand what has gotten me, when I found myself yelling at the staff in the hospital when we arrived.
I still didn’t understand why I did all those things?
But the thing that I can comprehend, was the feeling on my chest. The feeling that used to be there…a familiar feeling, but something new.
And it got me scared.
- Writer
