I slide into my white dress. My sister and mother stand beside me, smiling wide. I see my mother's hand rise to her cheek.
"Mom, can you get this?" I point to the zipper on my back.
She walks behind me and I feel the fabric become tighter and tighter. The sound of the zipper comes to a stop, and my mother steps away. Thank God, it actually fits. I feel it grab every contour of my body perfectly, collapsing into a sea of lace as it reaches my feet. Suddenly I realize the tears on my mother's face.
"Mom, it's okay."
She looks at me and smiles.
"I know," she says.
"You look beautiful," Isabella says.
She grabs the veil we had picked out together in a little upscale bridal shop a few towns over from the small box on my dresser.
"Hold still," she says.
She pins it to my hair and suddenly I too start to feel tears building up behind my eyes.
"It's perfect, it's truly perfect," she says.
I look at my mother and I know that it's time.
Moments later I am walking down the aisle, father by my side. I'm doing all in my power to hold back the tears of joy. Four years of engagement, and I am finally getting married. I look down the aisle and find my soon to be husband smiling at me. Could it be more perfect?
The minister speaks and we say our vows. It's finally time.
"I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride."
I lean in and our lips touch as I finally get the kiss I've been waiting for. One second of bliss- but suddenly everything goes dark. I try to open my eyes, but I can't. I feel the tongue on my lips force its way inside of my mouth. Arms lock around me. The grip becomes tighter as the tongue goes deeper and deeper until it feels like a living snake has slithered down my throat. I try to pull away as I feel talons digging through my dress and into my flesh. I try again to open my eyes.
What is going on? What's happened to my husband? Eye's slightly open, I see that am face to face with a monster. His blue eyes have gone black, now bulging out of his head that is growing larger and larger every second. I can't breathe. His snake-like tongue is going deeper and deeper down my throat, making its way through my intestines and into my stomach. I try to scream, but I can't. I'm suffocating.
Beeeeeep, beeeeeeep, beeeeeep, beeee-
Pam wakes gasping for air. Her hand races to the ringing clock resting on the blemished nightstand to her left. Silence takes over the room. She traces her hand over the nightstand in search of her glasses, still trying to catch her breath. She latches hold of them and slides them gently onto her face. Sight returns.
She hears a grumble coming from her right and turns. Roy is fast asleep next to her, drool dribbling down his face. She shakes her head. Not again.
She drags her body out of bed, walking across the tiny hallway towards the seemingly even tinier kitchen. She finds the coffee in the cabinet above the sink and measures three scoops into a coffee filter. She presses brew and decides to take a seat while she waits in a cheap chair that almost-but-not-quite matches the mahogany table she found at a yard sale down the street last year. She rummages through the day before yesterday's copy of the Scranton Monitor as she waits for her coffee to finish brewing, but nothing catches her attention.
The coffee finishes brewing and she walks back to the counter. She opens another cabinet and reaches for a mug, but there are none. Only now does she realize the various mugs littered around the countertop. Great, just great. She thinks for a moment to leave the mess for Roy, or maybe wake him and say something... anything, until she quickly snaps back into reality and realizes there's no use.
She reaches her hand up into the cabinet again, this time bringing down with it a purple microwave safe cup. She fills the cup and adds cream, sugar, and a quick dash of cinnamon. She takes one sip and places the coffee back down on to the counter. She returns to her bedroom to retrieve her purse. Upon exiting her bedroom for the second time this morning, she closes the door behind her. Her hand falls into the small black bag in search of a little orange bottle. She takes it out. Diriexdrol 200 mg. Take once a day, for 30 days. She places a small white pill onto her tongue and takes a swig from the purple cup. She swallows hard.
Time could not have possibly moved any slower than it did today, Pam thinks to herself. Her eyes, having been glued to the tortuous clock at work all day, are glad to finally be looking at the road ahead of her. Naked trees line the roads. Dirt is sprinkled in every snow banking, slowly contaminating every inch of white. She can't help but notice her hands shaking almost convulsively on the steering wheel. She turns on the radio hoping it will help to calm her down. She looks up again, this time her attention drawn to her left hand in particular, focusing in on the diamond ring and the new gold band that accompanies it. The shaking worsens.
She reaches into her purse and takes out the orange bottle, placing her second pill of the day onto her tongue. Just calm down.
She looks inside the bottle and sees only a few white pills left. Suddenly she flashes back to her lunch break. She had forgotten about slipping away earlier in the day to take one. She supposes it can't be all that bad taking a couple extra, considering it is her prescription and not some street drug she found from a dirty man hiding away in an alleyway. She looks down at her hand again. The shaking has started to slow. She reminds herself of her appointment with with Dr. Raymond tomorrow and continues to drive, focusing on the dirt eating away at the snow.
Roy is sitting on the couch as expected, beer in hand, when Pam walks into their one bedroom apartment. It's been like this ever since he got fired from the warehouse job 2 months ago for throwing a fist at one of the other warehouse guys. Pam has realized by now she's better off to just not mention it-
"How was work?" he asks.
"Fine," she responds. After a moment of silence she asks, "how was your day?"
"Fine."
She places her bag on the countertop, still in the same condition it was when she left this morning. She hears Roys feet moving and turns around to find him approaching her. She turns back to the counter and starts rearranging dirty dishes.
"Whatever," she hears Roy say, followed by the louder than necessary thump of his beer being thrown into the trashcan. She turns around to see him putting on a jacket and head for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Out," he says.
"Out where?"
"What do you care?"
"What do you mean 'what do I care?' You're my husband, Roy."
"Whatever."
He turns and walks out. The door slams shut.
Pam opens the freezer and tosses a frozen meal of chicken and macaroni and cheese into the microwave for two minutes. She eats it while she watches the nightly news from the couch. She thinks to get up and grab her sketchpad from under the bed, but remains seated. She hasn't sketched anything in months. She's been too preoccupied with planning the wedding with Roy-which unfortunately meant planning the entire wedding herself.
She reaches instead for the laptop resting on the coffee table in front of her. Once opened, she seems to have forgotten what she opened it for in the first place. Frustrated, she decides instead to take a shower and call it a night.
After slipping into her pajamas she pours a glass of water and reaches for the orange bottle she keeps hidden in the nightstand. Different from the bottle in her purse, this one reads "Zoliphide 150 mg, take once before bed." It's only 8:36 P.M., so she drops two into her hand. She places them onto her tongue and washes them down with the water next to her. She lies down and closes her eyes.
I take off my heels and sprint down the street as quickly as I can with my wedding dress dragging in the dirt behind me. Faster, you need to run faster. I try not to look behind me; I know what's following in my footsteps. I keep running and running. My breath is quickening and my chest starts to ache.
"Common, Pam. What are you running for?" A voice behind my calls.
"Pam, baby, I'm not going to hurt you."
I turn. Why do I turn? There it is, just paces behind me, and I fall. The monster runs to me, its tongue slightly falling out of right corner of his mouth. He leans over me, blocking the sun above us.
"Pam, I told you not to run."
Its arms grab me. I squirm, and its grip tightens.
"Let me go!" I shout.
"Never."
Suddenly its head is pressed against mine. I try to move but am locked in place. I see the snake awaken as it spirals out of its mouth. I grit my teeth together. I try to hold my mouth shut, but it's no use. The tight grip around my body loosens slightly as it releases one arm. It's hand traces over my lips as a talon emerges and pries open my lips. Suddenly the snake has made its way into my mouth and is slithering down my throat. I try to bite it. It bites back harder, fangs sending shockwaves of pain through my entire body. Its pace aggressively quickens, driving itself through my body. Just as I feel that it will never leave I see its head emerge from between my legs, body still twisting inside of me.
Pam wakes in a shake. She glances at her clock: 6:45 A.M. It's fifteen minutes earlier than she had planned to wake up. She turns to her side, but Roy is not there. Thank God. She remembers her appointment with Dr. Raymond and jumps from bed happy to begin her monotonous morning routine.
She walks to the kitchen and begins brewing her coffee, untroubled by the mess of dishes that continues to grow on the counter. She locates the orange bottle and drops two pills into her hand to help shake any lingering feelings of last night from her mind. She slips into her favorite button down blouse and purple cardigan, taking extra time to pin back her hair and apply her light pink lipstick.
The sun is shining bright outside, bright enough to cast the illusion of summertime warmth onto her face. She hops into her car and begins the short drive to her doctor's office.
After having checked in at the reception desk, she sits down in a lightly cushioned wooden chair next to the fish tank containing various small fish. To her left is a table covered in magazines. She picks up a popular celebrity gossip magazine and flips through. She mindlessly skims the various beauty tips and sexy workout features. Her eye is caught by a Vera Wang Bridal advertisement when she hears her name being called.
"Pamela Anderson?" A nurse says as she scans the waiting room.
Pam shuts the magazine and follows the nurse into the room where she is again asked to wait, this time alone. She looks into the mirror above the sink and notices she has been biting her nails. She reaches for her purse and pulls out the orange bottle, sneaking another pill to calm her down as she waits. She notices there is now only one left.
The door flies open just as she is returning the bottle to her purse. She can feel a smile taking over her face as her eyes meet the doctor's.
"Pam, how are you doing?" Dr. Raymond asks.
"I'm okay, just feeling a little on edge lately, you know?"
"Have the pills been helping at all?"
"A little," she responds with a smile.
"Well Pam, we really don't want to increase your prescription unless we absolutely have to."
"Just for a little longer, Dr. Raymond… Just until I get back on track."
They exchange glances again and endure a brief moment of silence. After what feels like a lifetime, Dr. Raymond speaks.
"I'll see what I can do."
He pulls out his prescription pad, and she can't help but notice the lack of a gold band on his left hand.