{NYRA}
“You always come back to me,” he laughed evilly, his voice curling around me like smoke.
I stood right back at the altar. It was dark, cold, and gruesome. The crowd was pointing at me, smirking, laughing, sneering.
Their eyes switched into a ghostly mockery, full of blood splattering all around the wall.
I could see the media lingering around me with cameras and huge lights. My parents stood beside him, holding his hands like they were in full support.
On me was a dirty old wedding gown with a horrifying black looking veil over my face.
The mirrors were positioned in a vast hall, stretching to infinity. Each one of them reflects a different version of myself: laughing, crying, screaming, and bleeding.
“I don’t,” I whispered, but my voice trembled, and my palms were swea
