I glare at the ornate mirror in front of me, sending my seething hatred out into the smooth glass. A pretty young woman with a lovely oval face, warm hazel eyes, full lips and lightly tanned skin glares back at me. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head, tiny strands of pearls weaving in and out of the intricately twisted locks of hair. Most people would remark how beautiful she looks today, with her soft lips and shimmery eye shadow. All I can think of is how pissed I look. It's my wedding day. I should be happy. But elation is the last thing I'm feeling. Dread, anger and horror better describe my state of mind. My mother has royally fucked up this time, and now I'm having to pay for her mistakes. Fantastic.