CHAPTER 3

I can be compared to a doll. No feelings, no life.

Everything I do is based on their instructions. While I was getting ready for my wedding, which was just a few hours away, I was mesmerised by the absence.

I'm dressed in a snow-white wedding gown with a long train. Featuring long sleeves and a turtleneck with Swarovski crystals, this wedding gown is really stunning. The form is both elegant and conservative. I truly like it.

Although my wedding gown was conservative in style, I soon realised that my father had chosen it specifically for its ability to cover the scars and bruises I had received from torturing.

Today is the big day of my life: my wedding day.  I am capable of leaving this residence in the care of my family. I was never considered to be one of them. My family instilled in me the ability to be worse than an animal. In the chance that I manage to escape this horrifying place, I will be sent to yet another horrifying surroundings.

If one is wounded by someone who is not a blood family, doesn't it seem less painful? Because I don't have to ponder why they could harm me despite the fact that I am descended from their blood and flesh, I can just accept it.

I moaned out my sorrow. There was virtually nothing to be found there at all. When they have already murdered my heart and soul so many years ago, why should I be concerned about my safety at all?

A member of the staff who helped me get dressed pleaded with me, "Come on."

I got to my feet and directed the person who was about to pull me away. I wanted to wince with every step I took. My whole body ached from the traumas I'd sustained over the course of a few torturous days.

I felt the wounds on my body begin to open, and I was on the verge of passing out before I could get into the car that would take me to church.

Downstairs were my father and sister. They are both dressed in a respectful way. Their delight could be seen on their faces. This is in stark contrast to how I am now feeling.

“Once you and Sanvictores are married,” my father said with glee, "he will give me the money he promised me when I married you to him," he continued.

Despite the fact that I had become used to the terrible insults they were hurling at me, what my father said stabbed like a dagger through my heart. Regardless of the fact that what I was hearing appeared to tear my heart, I kept my mouth shut. Why aren't they able to love me? What gives them the right to hold me responsible for my mother's death?  I didn’t like that to happend . In addition, I miss my mom too. I'm also looking forward to the feeling of being held by a mother.

Even though I really wanted to reprimand them, not a single syllable escaped my lips. I just bowed my head and tried to keep the tears from welling up in my eyes.

Eventually, we were able to ride the bridal car and go to the small church of San Vicente. There is just one chapel, and it is the smallest chapel in the area. The chapel has become damaged as a result of multiple typhoons passing through the area, yet no one, not even a government official, has considered fixing the deteriorating structure. I don't believe it is in use anymore, and no one is conducting mass anymore, either.

Obviously, attempts have been devoted to beautify the area in order to make it seem more attractive. Every pew had a bouquet of flowers on it. There was a crimson carpet in the centre of the aisle that seemed a little out of place in the church, with white and red petals strewn around. However, except from a few decorations, there is nothing particularly attractive about the church where my wedding will take place.

On the one hand, I may be compared to the church, which was compelled to be adorned in order to seem attractive while not concealing its degradation.

There was just them and the priest who was going to marry us, as well as two men to priest left who seemed to be waiting for them. I couldn't see their faces because of my veil obscuring my sight. Both males were dressed in white tuxedos. I'm not sure which of them I'm going to marry.

My knees trembled as a result of my nervousness. I'm getting married to someone I've never even met. Except for the rumours I've heard about him, I don't know anything about his personality.

When the old orchestra began to play, I had to begin walking closer to my groom.

As we moved closer and closer to them, my heart rate increased as a result of the acute anxiety I was experiencing. It didn't matter who of the two guys had an exquisite physique. Although if they strike me, I'm certain that I'd pass out in a matter of seconds.

The fact that my father had taken my hand and put it on his arm made me even more terrified.  I felt his strong pinch on me at the same time as softly whispering, "Fix your walk and don't humiliate me!" he said angrily.  We looked like a loving father and daugther, you will see that my father is just whispering, full of affection. Perhaps they believe that my father is just telling me to behave in the same manner as any other father who holds his child in the arms of his fiancée.

I struggled to follow my father’s command to adjust my gait even though my wounds ached with every step of my foot. I could feel the wounds opening and blood dripping from both my thighs. I was drenched in granular sweat I felt like any moment my body would give up. The fabric under my gown was soaked with blood. My body grew cold and I struggled to walk closer to the altar.

Fortunately, Jane was walking in front of me, so others in front of us weren't aware of how h I hardly walking. It seems to me that we have been walking for such a long time that it is an eternal punishment, and I am tempted to just beg the lord at the altar to take me away. Pain, tiredness, and dread were all there in my body. I'm not even sure how I'll be capable of functioning in my current condition.

We were quite near to the front of the altar, but I was completely unaware of it because of the depth of my line of thinking. I simply stayed bowed down and didn't even bother to lift my face. I was scared of seeing them in the eyes.

"Please take good care of my daughter, Mr. Sanvictores," my father demanded to him. I couldn't help but notice the sarcasm in his tone of speaking.

The only response he received from one of the men who had shocked me was an enraged snarl. I could tell my father was irritated because he tightened his grasp on me, as if he were pouring out his irritation at the snarl in front of us onto me through his tight grip.

The man snatched my hand away from my father and I exhaled in shocked. There seemed to be electricity pouring from my palm up to my arm, and it seemed to expand throughout my whole body. My pupils dilated as I raised my gaze to the man who was holding my hand.

A pair of chocolate-coloured eyes greeted me. This is the first time I'll ever look at him.  The first thing I noticed about the man in front of me was a large scar on his left eye, which drew my attention. It has the appearance of a scratch made by a huge animal's claw. However, this didn't eliminate from its natural grace. Its eyes are profound, and its stare seems to reach right into my own core. His nose is prominent and clearly aristocratic in appearance. His lips are thick, although they are reddish in colour. It's just now that I've come across a man with such bright red lips.

Despite the fact that my chest was heaving with fear, I felt sorry. The scar on its face makes me feel sad for it since I can't see much of its gorgeous eyes because of it.

The man's mouth growled earnestly; he was obviously angry, probably because I stared at him for a long time.   I immediately bent my head swiftly. Against my own efforts, a tiny sob managed to escape my lips.

 "Shit!" Mr. Sanvictores's cursing, just served to increase my uneasiness.

I was never able to look at Mr. Sanvictores again. Out of fear. Even as he helped me approach the altar. Even when he assisted me in my walk to the altar, I did not look him in the eyes. In contrast to what I had imagined, he softly took my hand in his. Gentle, and seems to be taking great care not to hurt me. The heat that is creeping up on me from the touch of our flesh is likewise beyond comprehension. He have the ability to calm my emotions.

Our wedding ceremony begins. Throughout the whole time period, I just stayed bowed. I'm still dealing with severe discomfort throughout my whole body.

The priest spoke about the sacredness of marriage, which I did not understand much because my vision was blurring. I already feel dizzy. When the priest asked the man next to me, he answered quickly. Perhaps it would also be after the ceremony. Maybe it also doesn’t like the situation.

When I was asked, it took me a long time to answer. My throat is dry and it looks like there is sand there. It's hard for me to speak. But I kept pushing because I didn't want them to get even angrier with me. My body could no longer cope with the more physical pain when one of them hit me.

"I-I... do," I finally spoke.

I heard a sigh from my groom. It seemed he breathe a sigh of relief when I answered. I wanted to look back at him, but fear stopped me.

Another man approached, the one who stood as bestman at their wedding. He handed the two rings to Mr. Sanvictores. The design of the gold ring is simple but very elegant to look at.

Mr. Sanvictores reached again for my hand to wear the ring. There it was again, the familiar electricity flowing into my hand. I wanted to withdraw my hand, but its grip tightened.

"It's okay..." he whispered softly to me.

As soon as I raised my eyes, I instantly dropped them out of embarrassment. His perfection could not be concealed, for having a scar on his left eye. There was a strong desire in me to want to stare at him for a long period of time, but I was scared that he might get irritated.

He held my hand once again, and this time I pushed myself to resist the need to pull away. He repeated the vows dictated by the priest while he  stared at me intently.  I did the same when I wore a ring on his huge hand. My palm is like a child's hand compared to his palm.

"Luna..." the bestman greeted me.  It was only then that I paid attention to him.

With trembling hands, I took the ring. I don't know how to take Mr. Sanvictores hand. He seemed to have read my problem, and purposefully extended his hand to me. I held it as I put the ring on it and uttered the vows.

His palm is soft and smooth compared to mine. My hands are rough because when I was young, my hands were tired of household chores, especially laundry.

My vows only lasted a few moments because of my stuttering stutter. I also find it difficult to pronounce English words because I'm not used to it. I am very grateful when I comfortably wore what Mr. Sanvictores said.

"You may now kiss the bride ..." I heard the priest say.