Chapter One- How To Force A Hand
"I do." I chocked out, trying very hard not to cry. The man standing next to me smiled in triumph. Cliffton Heaton III. I knew Cliff had been squirming a little until he was sure that I was entirely his. I heard a low moan from my mother. I had seem her swollen eyes as I had entered the room. She and I understood each other.
"Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." I continued to stare at the priest, daring Cliff to do something about it. He did. Grabbing me by the waist, he turned me toward him, and planted a rather lifelessly violent kiss on my unresponsive lips. No one had kissed me in five years, and I didn't really care to ever be kissed again. I couldn't imagine anyone's lips could feel quite like my angel's. He was always so soft...
As Cliff pulled away he whispered so that only I could hear. "You are mine." His smile was calm, but I thought I heard something of a threat behind his voice. I shivered, he didn't care.
He held me close like a trophy, as we turned to all of our friends and family. One hand wrapped on the back of my neck, in my mahogany hair, and the other holding my small hands, so that I couldn't escape. I suppose he thought that I might run. I couldn't run. My father had made quite clear how he felt about me not marrying.
The first time he had found women's rights documents in my room, he had beat me, and then given me a cold shower. After that, he had made me light the papers on fire, and throw the ashes into a nearby stream. All far too melodramatic for me.
So, I allowed my new husband to lead me out of the chapel and into the street. His black Buick Phaeton sat outside. He helped me into the passenger side, his hand guiding my head into the car, whether out of concern or ownership, I didn't know. I looked back only long enough to see my mother waving and crying uncontrollably, then I stared at the ground until we were out of sight.
I didn't speak. Cliff did, mostly to hear the sound of his own voice. "I know that you will like Georgia." He said, still a note of forbidding in his voice. "It is so beautiful." He put his hand on top of my leg. "Just like my wife."
I tried to smile, knowing what my father would think if I angered my husband only minutes after being wed. He either didn't notice the wave of nausea, or he pretended to not care. He continued talking, telling me more about the beautiful house we would stay in while we vacationed in Georgia. Apparently Tennessee was too boring and humid for him. I doubted any southern state would really be that different.
"Darling?" He said, grabbing my attention. I looked at his face, so arrogant and unfriendly. He was smiling that damned smile. The one that said, "You can't do anything me owning you."
"Yes?" I said, my voice quite, as I tried to hide my hostility.
His smile widened, knowing he had all of the power. "Your father was right." He raised a confident eyebrow. "We were made for each other."
I turned to stare out the window, trying desperately not be sick.