The Dress

She looked stunning standing there in front of the seven-foot vertical mirror in her ivory Pepa Botella wedding gown. With a tight glittered sweet heart neckline on her bosom connecting to a thin sash around her waist, the skirt of the gown flowed loosely down to just above her ankles. It was the dress of her dreams. The one that girls pine over and pin to their wedding pinterest boards. The stylist just finished putting her long black hair into a thick bun that was connected to small braids on each side of her head, her bangs were straightened to curve on the right side of her face. She was ready.

As she stood in the dressing room a knock came from the door. Startled, she jumped as her soon to be mother-in-law peeked her head past the door. "Five minutes, hon." Her eyes glazed over at the sight of Ava in her gown. She came into the room and hugged the bride.

"Ava, you look lovely darling. James is going to cry when he sees you coming down the aisle." Tears begin to fall down her mother-in-law's face. Without saying a single word, Ava slaps her across the cheek; shock fills the mother-in-law's face as her hand comes up to cradle her cheek.

"This is my wedding day, and if anyone is going to cry it better be away from my damn wedding dress. I'm tired of looking at you." And with a wave of her hand, Ava made the woman disappear. Ava walks over to the mirror and studied her reflection, closely looking at the frown lines on her face.

With the chime of the grandfather clock, she lines up behind her procession; her father meeting her at the end of the line of people. Just like every other time he was awake, he had a glass of liquor in his hand. That's what she always hated about him. He couldn't go an hour without drinking. He looked at her, smiling lopsidedly. His only daughter was about to be married; yet he still couldn't put the glass down. He gulped some of the brown liquid down, some of the liquor spilling from his lips just missing the hem of her dress. Ava's eyes filled with anger; her face grew hot but she held her tongue. This was her day and he was her dad, she could let it slide this once. He missed the dress anyways, she shook the anger out of her shoulders.

Here Comes the Bride began to play, signaling that it was time to walk. It was time, time for everyone to look at her, the attention of every person in the room would be solely focused on her. The double doors opened to reveal over 150 guests now standing to look at her. One man in particular caught her eye: James. He was the stereotypical tall, dark and handsome groom, especially now while wearing his white tuxedo. His eye met hers, giving her that crooked smile that always melted her heart.

Arm in arm with her father, Ava began her descent down the aisle. She couldn't help but smile; she is so happy. The man of her dreams about to be hers forever. She would finally have that knight in shining armor.

As they glided down the aisle, her father's foot catches an overlap of the aisle runner. He tries to catch himself, grabbing the end of the pew closest to him for stability but slipped and landed on his arse. The crowd gasps and whispers. He spills his liquor, most of it landing on the runner but a few drops splash onto Ava's ten thousand dollar dress. Ava's eyes begin to twitch, her face growing red hot with rage. Without warning, she lets out a blood curdling scream, shocking the guests. She starts tearing her hair out of its intricate braids, ripping some strands completely out of her head. She uses her long nails to claw her face, leaving long bloody scratches down her cheeks. It was all too much.

A loud metal bang goes off, but nothing is around to make that sort of noise.

Seconds later, she is tackled to the ground by a tall male dressed in white scrubs, smelling of ammonia and bleach. As she is lying on her stomach, blood starts to flow from her now split lip. She looks up, the church walls start to crumble; the angelic Virgin Mary stain glass windows shatter. Replacing the solid oak columns are concrete slabs; the once lit church is now a six by six room with a single metal framed cot. She isn't in the church anymore but on the hard concrete floor of her cell.

No longer is she wearing the bourbon stained wedding gown but a grey robe that doesn't even wrap around her body fully. The male stands back up, giving her the chance to run. She quickly makes her way to the door but the orderly is faster. He grabs her from behind and a sudden sharp sting hits her thigh. Ava looks down to see the needle sticking from her thigh. The drugs hit her. Her body feels light but her mind foggy as she feels herself floating to the cot. The orderly in white begins to tighten the soft restrains around her wrists and ankles; but she isn't fighting anymore. He sits down next to her and gently wipes the blood from her face with a washcloth.

As her vision begins to fade, the orderly stands up to leave. She notices that he isn't wearing the nicely fit tuxedo anymore; her anger builds but soon fades when he gives her that crooked smile which replays in her drug induced dreams.