Loving DeMarco

My heart was beating rapidly fast, as if I were about to die. The entirety of my body became numb as soon as DeMarco took my trembling hands into his. Without a second of hesitation, he slipped his ring onto my finger as though rejection was not a possibility. It was at that moment I knew my fate had been sealed… Traditionally, and almost overly cliché in a way, today would be the day most young girls like me dreamed of our whole lives; being engaged, finally being able to hunt for that perfect dress, obsessing over every little bridal detail. And finally, marrying the love of our life. But this is not the case. No, this is about power and control. And thus ended my life as I knew it… How wickedly clever of you, time, to pass me by without me even noticing. Without allowing me a fighting chance. But who can fight time? How stealthily this day has approached me…unprepared little me. I stand at the alter by DeMarco’s side as if I were in a trance. “I’m here. I’m here now…there’s no turning back” I think to myself. The words of the priest seem muffled and distant although we are faced to face. DeMarco stands confidently and collected, as if he’d been rehearsing this moment his entire life. I wonder if he can tell I’m someplace else, or if he even cares. He stares at me so intently; I feel chills down my spine and my palms begin to sweat. Perhaps he is just putting on a show, but I can’t help but wonder, does he see me? We finish our vows and turn to walk down the aisle as husband & wife. Husband, Wife…how strange this feels. I’ll have to come to terms quickly. I can’t seem to look at the crowds of people that we call our family, so I keep my head down, half smiling. I know if I had refused or decided to run, I would have brought shame to my father. This had to be done for my father, for my family.  What was meant to be a joyous occasion, like any other wedding, was a day filled with envious eyes, malicious murmurings, and judgmental “jokes.” Why do they say I am “blessed to have married DeMarco”? A man I know nothing about, nor care to. If only they could truly comprehend how deeply uninterested I am in this whole extravagant charade. If only they knew how much I really don’t want to be here. If only they knew the truth about DeMarco DeLuca, would they have pity on me as I am now the possession of a ruthless killer?  This “marriage” or should I say deal, has never been about love. It was always about duty. It’s about what my father has always expected me to do for the good of our family; a family that I later found out was a part of the mafia. “Everyone in this family has certain expectations” My father would always remind us. He’s been reinforcing this into our minds since we were little kids. I just thought he meant helping more around the house with cooking, cleaning or laundry. I didn’t realize that he was secretly referring to my future arranged marriage to DeMarco DeLuca who is nearly twenty years my senior, and most importantly, the son of Don Demitri DeLuca…