It was her wedding day. f**k! Danielle ground her teeth together hard enough to make her jaw ache and tried to make sense of the madness that was her life.
Unlike most women, whom Danielle imagined spent hours imagining the perfect wedding day, wishing for fairytales. She could hazard a guess they fantasize about the perfect dress, the come-hit-me shoes, all consuming love, and how handsome the groom would look in his tux. Those women walked to their weddings floating on clouds of dreams with stars in their eyes.
Danielle’s eyes were the reflection of the storm raging within her mind. Her fantasies were more red in color, too, instead of the traditional white. She imagined how more appealing Sawyer’s head would look with a bullet hole in it. Actually, she thought the entire building wou
