The wedding was uneventful. It went just as it should. We said our vows, exchanged rings, toasted our union, thanked our guests then headed off to our honeymoon. Now I realize that it is this event that most young brides hold their trepidation but honestly I was so concerned with the implications of marriage on my freedom that what was expected of me tonight all but escaped my mind. However that was until we entered the bedroom. As we crossed the threshold it came screaming back full force. That may explain the fogginess that I felt. The lump in my throat. The tightness in by chest.
"Sara? Are you alright?" James' voice broke through the fog.
I turned to look at him. His tall lean frame inches from my own slightly curvy form. His brown hair combed to perfection, his green eyes. Those eyes that were filled with a mixture of concern and what I can only assume to be lust. The emotion in those eyes scared me and angered me. Fear for what was about to happen. Anger over the silly child I was being for feeling such fear. I was wallowing in self pity acting as though I was being led to the gallows. I was a stronger woman than that. I had to be a stronger woman than that.
"I am fine." I said, though I certainly didn't feel it.
"Good." He said, closing the gap between the two of us.
He drew so close his cologne burned my nose. He leaned forward and kissed me. His tongue forced its way into my mouth. I don't know how anyone can find that enjoyable. It felt like he was counting my teeth with his tongue, domineering forcing his way through my mouth. I pulled back. Now I know that look was lust. He leaned in again, this time assaulting my neck. As he continued kissing my neck his hands groped my body. I knew what was expected of me, I knew that I should be returning the affection, if one could call it that, but I couldn't. I remained standing, my arms dangling uselessly at my sides. This did not deter him, he continued his exploration of my body, running his hands over my chest and down my sides. I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over, this is not how I planned my wedding night.
I woke up. The throbbing reminded me of what occurred hours earlier. It wasn't as horrific as I imagined the first time would be. It was painful without a doubt, but it wasn't as bad as other young wives described. I can't imagine how a woman can enjoy this, if it is always as painful as night previous, I certainly would not be volunteering to do it again.
James shifted next to me. He certainly seemed to enjoy himself last night, panting and moaning. Then collapsing on the bed and falling asleep. Not a word to me. Just used and discarded. There I go again. I think that I may be reading too much into these things. If I am always so certain that this life will be horrible it will be. The human mind can twist and distort things. Last night was unpleasant, yes, but was it uncommon? I don't know I have no frame of reference. Maybe by comparison last night was amazing, maybe it was a horror. I don't know. None the less, I have to give this a chance, because I still have no control over changing it.
I got out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around myself and crossing to the window. What is to become of my life now? What is expected of me? Hopefully things will become clearer with time. I sighed and leaned against the window, staring at the stars. I guess that I will have to wait and see.
Erik slammed a book on top of the piano sending music sheets flying everywhere. This was common. He was once again at a loss of what to write, he wanted to compose. He needed to compose. But no matter how many notes he played it didn't seem right. He tried reading, sleeping, walking, painting, anything to take his mind away from the music. Nothing worked. He felt the urge to compose flow through his veins like a fire. His fingers burned to stroke the ivory keys and for the pipes to emit an original sound. A melody that never before had graced human ears. Yet every time his long slender fingers caressed the keys all he heard was boring, uninspired drivel. He hated when this happened and it was happening all too much lately. It angered him to no end and the longer the drought lasted the angrier he got.
"I have written entire operas in days!" He boomed, his voice echoing around the house by the lake, "Yet it has been two months and not a single note worth writing!"
He turned abruptly causing another stack of papers to cascade to the floor. Erik grabbed his cloak and stormed out the door. Perhaps some fresh air would clear his head.
A/N: Please review! I am aiming to update at least once a week (Mondays?). Thanks for reading!