Page 12 of My Bloody Valentine

CHAPTER 7

Candice

Fire licks at my skin, twisting and turning my insides until I can’t breathe. I claw at my body, desperate for the sensations to stop. But they never do. Nothing takes away the agony writhing through me.

Confusion turns my mind. Fragmented images flit through my brain, but none of them make sense. In quick succession, I see the wedding hall. I watch, helpless, as I walk down the hallway to the other bathroom, looking for Jessica.

Though I know what I will find, I can’t seem to stop myself from reliving it. It hurts even more than the pain flooding my system, tearing at my synapses. Unable to stop myself, I push open the door, only instead of Grant fucking Jessica, it’s a far different scene.

Blood coats the walls, dripping its vermillion onto the floor where it puddles. The bodies are nowhere to be seen, but the carnage is enough to show they were there. What the hell is wrong with me?

But more importantly, why does my stomach cramp with unbelievable discomfort as I stare at the blood. I shouldn’t be hungry. And yet, I can’t stop myself from sinking to my knees and lapping it up.

When I succumb, however, It doesn’t help. All it does is make the sharp, jagged pieces in my gut cry out for more. I need more. I want more. I crave more.

On a blood-curdling scream, my eyes open. The sound bounces around in my ears, both sharp and muffled at the same time. I’m unable to see. Pitch blackness covers me, coats me, much like the blood.

When I push out, trying to claw myself out of the inky blackness, my fingers brush against something solid. It’s soft, fabric of some kind. But what?

My brain clicks along at a snail’s pace, encumbered by terror. But finally, everything falls into place. I’m in a coffin. I just know it. Pressing out to the sides, I find that I am indeed hemmed in by the same satiny fabric.

Why am I in a coffin? Who put me here? I should know. It’s on the very tip of my brain; however, it refuses to show itself. Again, I scream, slamming my palms up, desperate to open up this deathtrap so I can breathe.

I need air. My lungs cramp, a sharp burning sensation that brings tears to my eyes. I don’t want to die. There’s so much else I want to live for!

It’s far too late for that now.

A familiar voice curls about in my mind, like smoke. But I can’t place it. It’s not Grant. It’s not my father or any of my relatives. “God?” I whisper, my voice choking with emotion.

Not even close. Think Candice. Think hard about what happened after you left the church.

I try, but pain explodes in my brain. I don’t want to do this anymore. I just want the discomfort to stop. Why won’t it stop? If I died, would it go away?

Come now, you just said you didn’t want to die. Now you do? Tsk tsk. You need to make up your mind Candice. Though I for one would like you to live. Forever with me. Now how does that sound?

“Who are you?” I scream out, again, slamming my hands against the coffin lid.

Sparks shoot off from behind my eyes, filling my brain with the most brilliant light. It hurts. Fuck me, but it hurts. However, I force myself to watch, seeing me through the eyes of a stranger.

I’m at a bar, sitting all alone in my wedding dress. Club Euphoria!

Yes, that’s it. Keep going!

I walk down a hall and into a room full of all sorts of kinky equipment. Arousal thrums through my body as he tears the dress from my skin, leaving me bare. And that’s when the rest of the memories flood into my mind.

“Master.”

Very good. The top of the coffin wrenches up, but thankfully the room is still dim. Muffled sounds skitter throughout the space, and in the dimness, I can make out several figures.

“What? What did you do to me?”

I feel a presence behind me. Cruel hands tear at my breasts, his nails sinking into my skin. “What do you think?”

“Y- You bite me.”

“Very good. And?”

“And?” None of this makes sense.