The silk of Halle's whispered against the ground as she walked, each step echoing louder than the last inside her head. The garden aisle was dusted with soft white petals_ an illusion of purity, innocence, love. But Halle felt none of those things.
Her hands were cold around the bouquet of peonies and white roses _chosen by someone else, just like the man she would be marrying today.
Her father stood proud at her side, one arm looped tightly through hers, as if to anchor her in place. Her step mother dabbed at non existent tears, her designer clutch clutched like a trophy. Maribel_ her perfectly airbrushed stepsister winked at her as if this were some kind of glamorous victory.