With The Darkness

Chapter 2 Wendy

Wendy couldn’t breathe under the white veil.

Or, she could.

She just couldn’t feel it.

The drug numbed all her senses, even her feelings, and her heart.

She could feel nothing now, except for being cold and stupid.

The hoofbeat outside was really loud. The carriage was swaying rhythmically.

She sat there motionlessly on the seat under the bride’s veil, and thought, perhaps, this was only a ridiculous dream.

After all, about one month ago, she was only an ordinary 17-year-old human girl who ate cold sandwiches as her breakfast, and went to school by bus.

She was neither beautiful, nor gifted, just plain and regular, definitely not someone special. It’s just one day when she came back home from school, she found her house was burned, and both her parents were carried out by the firefighters as dead bodies.

She was orphaned just in the blink of an eye, and then a gentlemanlike old man showed up at her parent’s funeral.

He wore a black trench coat and had a round black hat on his head. He laid a white flower on her parents’ tomb and said, “I am so sorry this happened to you, dear.”

Wendy had no idea who the old man was. She looked at him and asked, “Who are you?”

The old man passed her a business card. It showed that he was the owner of some big, rich company. He said, “Your parents and I used to be good friends. I am willing to take care of you until you turn 18, my dear.”

Wendy doubted that. He was too old to befriend her parents.

She said, “No, thanks. I can take care of myself.”

And then, Derick showed up. The handsome young man got out of the car parked at the roadside across the street with a cell phone in his hand. He walked towards them, passed the phone to the old man, and said, “Dad, Mom is looking for you. It’s urgent.”

The old man took the cell phone and excused himself, leaving her and Derick alone standing in front of her parent’s tomb.

He looked really handsome that day with that black coat he was wearing, that smile, and that pair of charming eyes.

He said, “You must be Wendy. I’ve heard so many about you.”

Wendy knew she blushed. It was so lame. But he was so tall and so handsome.

She asked, “Really? How could you hear about me?” She must have stuttered too.

The handsome young man grinned. He said, “You are so beautiful. I heard them talk about you in my dreams.”

Wendy smiled. She was such a fool. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, definitely not compared with those popular girls in school.

But she wanted to be complimented. She wanted to fall in love. She foolishly believed him, and now she became a bride enveloped in a shroud, and she didn’t even know who she was going to marry.

The carriage went really fast. They were running in the forest. Those branches scraped across the surface of the wooden cabin and made ceaseless horrific noises.

Wendy sat still under the big white veil, with her hands placed on her lap. It was literally yesterday that she found that there were actually werewolves in the world, and now she was presented to this mysterious Night King she had never heard of as his 15th bride.

Why was she the 15th?

Why on earth would a man need 15 brides?

What happened to his previous 14?

And why?

Why do you have to be such a fool, Wendy?

Why do you have to believe there was actually love in the world?

When you know there wasn’t going to be any.

You know you don’t deserve love.

You know you won’t get love since a long, long, long, long, long time ago.

Yet, you still tried like a fool.

You tried like a fool.

The hurtling carriage suddenly took a sharp turn and stopped.

Wendy heard the carter jump off his seat and say, “Here’s the delivery.”

There were sounds of coins jingling. Someone must have paid the carter.

It was strange. When someone was addressed as the King. You thought he would at least own a carter of his own.

Nobody was going to answer her question. Neither could she actually ask.

The tranquilizer they shot her was so strong. She still couldn’t move, or speak.

She heard someone open the carriage, but nobody said anything.

They didn’t ask her to step outside. It was so strange. It almost felt like they had reached an agreement that whoever the bride was sent here would be drugged into motionless status.

Now Wendy knew why Ava dared to make her the substitute. The shrewd girl knew she wouldn’t get the chance to explain herself until after the ceremony was completed, or even worse, until what happened to the previous 14 brides happened to her.

Someone got inside the carriage and helped her out. Another person waiting outside carried her on the back. They were both females. Wendy felt the softness of their skin when they touched her.

Her arms draped around that person’s neck. She felt that person carried her to an extremely broad passage.

The night wind was blowing, and the owls started howling again. Wendy heard other footsteps. At least five people were following her.

They entered a very broad space. A castle. Wendy assumed. Their footsteps echoed.

The person who was carrying her turned right, walked for a while, and turned again, entered some sort of room. The light became really bright.

Wendy felt someone reach under the veil from her back. That person wrapped a piece of soft cloth around her eyes and blindfolded her.

“What are you doing?” Wendy heard a young girl’s voice say. “We are supposed to do makeup for her.”

“Forgot about it. It doesn’t matter,” the voice standing behind her answered. “He won’t look at her anyway. I don’t want to be haunted by another woman.”

Haunted.

So, the previous 14 brides were all dead.

Wendy wondered if she would turn into a ghost later. Since there were actually werewolves in the world, ghosts should exist as well, shouldn’t they?

The first girl said nothing. They helped to lay Wendy down on some sort of blanket and undressed her.

They carried her into the bathroom, scrubbed her like she was some sort of object, and then, they trimmed her nails, painted her toes, and sprayed perfume around her.

It smelt like the lily of the valley, but also like the forest and the night.

Wendy suddenly felt so cold, but they didn’t put any clothes on her. Instead, they wrapped her inside another dry, and coarse blanket. One person took her head; another person took her feet. Together, they carried her on their shoulders and then got her out of the bathroom, walked through the hallway, upstairs, turned, and upstairs again.

The last part of the passage was really cold and dark. It was a broad hallway. Wendy couldn’t help but tremble inside the blanket.

She felt them carry her into some sort of room and then put her on a big, soft bed.

One of the maids unwrapped the blanket and covered her with a silk quilt. A pair of hands took the cloth off her eyes.

The room was really dark. Wendy could see nothing but the vague images of the tall, carved ceiling. Those maids left like wind. They closed the door behind them.

A drop of tear fell from the corner of Wendy’s eye.

It happened too fast, too dramatic for her to feel real.

But the wound on her heart was fresh.

And where the needle stabbed her neck was still in pain.

Wendy knew this wasn’t a dream.

And she knew she was going to be dead.

I don’t want to die. She thought.

Living is painful. But I don’t want to be dead. She said, in her mind.

The wind outside the castle became so fierce. The branches were rustling and the windows shook.

Wendy struggled fiercely on the bed in her head, trying to move and to escape.

Her toes curled. Her fingertips twitched.

Just when she thought she was able to lift her hand, the door suddenly clicked, and the wind suddenly stopped.

There were no footsteps that could be heard, just cold, everlasting dark silence filled the room.

Wendy heard someone sigh. She knew the darkness had just walked inside.