Stranded Ch. 04

"No thank you, I'm sure you did a lovely job."

"Don't be rude child, look! Enjoy your beauty while you still have it." Her tone implied there was no room for argument, so I opened my eyes and looked. Emily had used a white shimmery eye dust with just a little bit of mascara and eyeliner to emphasize the natural almond shape of my eyes. The lipstick was a light pink, just a few shades lighter than my actual lips, but it gave me an all-natural look. The bags beneath my eyes had disappeared and I looked almost normal, minus the bright white wedding dress.

"It's beautiful, thank you."

"Looks like the heathen has manners after all." I bit the inside of my cheek to force myself not to respond.

"Alright, come on then." She turned, and I begrudgingly followed. I wasn't stupid enough to try and escape, but Sam wasn't taking any chances. I could feel a knot in the pit of my stomach, and I gripped the stairwell banister tightly to prevent falling over. I went on autopilot as I followed Mary onto the back porch where I noticed a new addition. I could tell the cement was fresher because it was several shades lighter than the rest of the concrete. Sticking out was a small metal loop with a chain attached to it, this one a little bigger and thicker than the ones in the house. Did he plan to keep me chained down forever? Or maybe it was for his future wives as they adjusted. I was grateful when Mary directed me to the lawn chair, the level of nausea rose, and I was afraid for a moment I was going to barf all over my dress. The thought almost made me smile, the one thought that kept me from doing just that, was how angry he'd be if I did. Bethany zip tied my wrists to the arms of the chair while Mary wrapped the chain around my ankle before they left to get themselves and their little ones ready.

The noise level rose as more guests began to arrive and I quickly lost count of them A few glanced my way, pointing and whispering as they walked by. The men kept their wives close not daring to let them wander near me as if I truly was a rabid heathen. When the traffic of people came to a halt, music began to play from the barn, and it took everything in me not to burst into tears. It was Dale who came to fetch me, unlocking the chain and slicing the zip ties. With this many people around, I wasn't sure what exactly Sam was afraid I was going to do. After the incident with the hounds, I knew running wasn't an option. I stood, heart racing, mouth dry and Dale held his arm out for me. I stared down at it thinking it wasn't right, none of it was right. It should be my father who walks me down the aisle and it should be to a man I loved.

"Don't cry now, you'll ruin your pretty makeup," Dale chastised. I wanted to smear it out of spite. When I didn't move fast enough, he grabbed my hand and wrapped it around his arm, grip tightening the longer I resisted moving forward.

"Samson went through a lot of trouble to make this day special for you both, it would be a grave error to ruin that for him." I got the hidden threat in his message and I forced myself to walk forward, one foot in front of the other. There was quite a bit of guests, maybe a few dozen, most were of Dale's brood. I knew they had to live somewhat close to be able to come this quickly to the ceremony. Or had he planned when he was going to stop sedating me? There was a large round gentleman who stood beneath a white wooden trellis that was covered in vines and beautiful pink flowers. He had gold wire rimmed glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose. He reminded me a little of Santa but without the red suit, and he still had hints of his reddish hair amongst the white. Sam was off to his left wearing a snug navy-blue tux with a bright red tie, he was trying to stand still but his hands were fidgeting nervously, and he was bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he stared down the aisle at me. What did he have to be nervous about? He looked good, really good and I hated him for it; things would be so much easier if I wasn't attracted to the bad guy. The older gentleman held what appeared to be a bible, but upon closer inspection I could see that it was all written by hand. I could feel their gazes burning into me, waiting. For what, I wasn't entirely sure. Was I supposed to be fighting? Maybe they were waiting for me to cry or protest. Emily took the bouquet from my hands, her dress a simple light pink but in the same style as all the other dresses. She had a small boy that had attached himself to her side. He had the same obsidian black hair as his mother, his little arms wrapped fiercely around his mother's leg, his face buried into her hip. I wanted to scream, to run, to do something to stop the insanity. But instead I allowed him to take my hands into his, and I looked up into his dark blue eyes. It all felt too surreal, how could this seriously be happening to me? It was only a short while ago I was sitting in class, living a normal college life and now I was in the middle of nowhere being forced to marry this stranger. He looked as happy as a kid on Christmas morning, eagerly awaiting to open his presents; only in this situation I was the 'gift' he planned to unwrap.

"Welcome everyone, we have invited you all here to witness the joining of these two young souls, Samson and..."

"KitKat, her name is KitKat." I wanted to correct him, I wanted to argue and insist that my name was Katherine. But what was that going to accomplish? Would he dare to hit me in front of his family? In front of the children? A quick look around and I had a feeling it wouldn't bother a single soul if he did. The older gentleman looked as though he wanted to object but thought better of it.

"We are privileged to witness the joyous love of a new family; and growth of our own. A family that will be nourished and nurtured through the devotion of two separate individuals. May their marriage bring them peace, joy, comfort and contentment that is known in the hearts of all God's children. An essential requirement of a good marriage is for KitKat to put her trust and faith in Samson which will allow their love for each other to grow deeper with each passing day. Do you have the rings?" Sam nodded, and Emily pulled the little boy from her leg and kneeled to whisper in his ear. She held her palm open and allowed him to take the two golden rings into his chubby little fingers. With a little encouragement, she pushed him forward and he held the rings out to Sam. He tussled the boy's hair and took the rings, sliding one onto my finger before sliding the other around his own and he took my hands again. The ring was cold and unreasonably heavy, like another chain weighing me down. Did he find out my ring size while I had been unconscious? It was obvious he managed to figure out my dress size.

"Samson, will you take KitKat to be your wife, your love? Will you lead her towards the Lord through hard work and dedication of our ways? Will you look out for her needs and help correct her in her errors? To care for her when she is sick, to help her from her wicked path and into the light?"

"I do."

"KitKat, you will take Samson as your husband, your love. You will honor, obey and follow him as he teaches you our ways and leads you to paradise. You will take care of your new home and the babes he blesses you with for as long as you live. This is your duty as a one of the chosen. This is your family now and we welcome you to it." I noticed how my part required no agreement, no 'I do', it felt more like I was being delivered a prison sentence instead of a wedding vow. Sam didn't wait a moment longer before he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him. He smelled of Irish Spring from his recent shower and a hint of whiskey. An overwhelming feeling of dread washed over me, Arioch tended to appear whenever Sam was inebriated, or stressed or really really angry. But the fear was pushed aside when he kissed me. It was almost like the kiss I'd initiated on my second night there. He was gentle, almost tame and he didn't try to shove his tongue in my mouth as I had done to him in my drunken stupor.

He pulled away still grinning from ear to ear as his family applauded, several men stepping forward to pat him on the back and give us their congratulations. He tightened his grip when they neared, and I wasn't sure if it was meant to make me feel safe, or because he felt possessive. It had been so short for all the prepping that went into it.

"Is it true Sammy?" the inquiry came from a slightly younger man who was moving closer through the crowd. Sam cleared his throat as he faced the few family members that had gathered.

"It is true, I have been given permission by the conclave not to participate in our family's traditional wedding night." There were a few objections, but they all died down when younger man pushed his way to the front.

"How can you even call yourself part of this family when all you do is scorn us? You refuse to participate in most of our family traditions; which have been passed down for nearly 4 generations. I think you should go out and live with the heathens you love so much." The man had short blonde hair and angry green eyes. I could feel the tension rising and I wasn't even sure what they were fighting over. If it had something to do with our wedding night, I knew it couldn't be anything good. Unease rested between my shoulder blades as I watched the exchange. It was then I noticed how Sam stood just a few inches before me, half of his body blocking mine, and I felt a strange foreboding creeping up my spine.

"Fortunately for me, Marcus, I know how to bargain."

"Bargain!? You practically threatened them!" the young man shouted. Threatened who? For me? Why would he do that for a girl he hardly knew?

"Just because they are traditions, doesn't make them right! The world is changing out there, and if we don't start changing with it then there will be no family!" Sam shouted in return.

"So, you think because you spent a little time out among the heathens that makes you better than us!? That you know better than us?" Marcus demanded, stepping forward until they were practically standing brow to brow.

"That is enough! The conclave has made their decision and we will all respect that decision, whether we agree with it or not." Dale shouted, he approached the two men and pushed them apart.

"Marcus, your drunk son; go home!" Marcus glared at Sam for several more seconds before turning around and storming his way out, a few others following behind him. The other guests had fallen silent, but Dale signaled a few of the kids to begin playing their instruments and some soft music started playing. The other men started to disperse, and Dale turned Sam around to look at him, hands gripping his biceps a little tightly.

"You have worked hard for this family, do not think for one second that it goes unappreciated. But you are playing with fire, some of the boys are very upset about this. It's not about sharing or not sharing, as Marcus said, this tradition goes all the way back to our great granddaddy. Are you sure this is what you want to do for a girl you hardly even know?"

"I don't want to share her," he replied simply.

Share me? With who? My knees started to feel like jello as my stomach turned. Was that really their tradition? Why would they do that? When I'd heard about Dale's seventh wife, I had assumed sharing her had been a punishment, but it was some sick tradition? And just how big was his family? It felt like some cruel math joke. I fell on my knees as my legs suddenly gave out and I started taking deeper breaths. It felt as though my lungs were being squeezed. I closed my eyes feeling suddenly dizzy and my heart began to thump heavily in my chest. I was aware of more eyes on me and I couldn't seem to get enough air. Sam dropped to his knees and knelt before me, gripping my head in between his hands. My body was covered in a cold sweat and I could barely hear him as he spoke to me. I saw his lips move but his voice seemed to be muffled as if I was listening through water.

"C'mon Kitty Kat, focus...focus on my voice...look at me and take slow, calming breaths." The guests started to fade into the background until it was just the two of us. I didn't want to hear his voice, but it helped to have something to focus on. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. One day at a time, I can get through this. But I didn't feel so confident anymore. I copied Sam's breathing, when he inhaled, I inhaled and as my breathing slowly returned to normal, I felt even more exhausted. I'd started having panic attacks soon after my mother's death, years of therapy had helped me to get it managed but they were always such draining episodes. I didn't know why some things triggered them and others didn't, I just knew how to lightly cope, and that didn't always work. Often, I usually passed out from hyperventilating.

Sam helped me to my feet and led me away from the crowd, sitting me down in a folding chair. He held my hand, sitting down beside me; it would have been a kind gesture if I wasn't being held against my will.

"Are you alright?" I shook my head, eyes welling with tears. He'd just witnessed me at my most vulnerable, I didn't want him to see any of my emotions too. If the conclave hadn't agreed, would he have gone along with it? He kept telling me how much I meant to him, but how could that be? He hardly knew me, why was he so willing to bend the rules? What was so special about me that he was willing to risk his family's anger.

"Talk to me," he pleaded. I looked around, others were doing their best to avert their eyes, but I could feel them staring all the same.

"Does your family really share their brides?" I asked softly.

"Not you though, you are all mine." He encircled me in his arms, kissing the top of my head. I couldn't decide if I should feel comforted or even more afraid.

"That doesn't answer my question." I objected, making it clear I wasn't giving up.

"Normally, yes. It is tradition to share the bride on her wedding night, it's supposed to help break the wife in. Kind of like when you tame a wild horse, you just ride them until they give up and give into their fate."

"With all of them?" I nodded in the direction of his family, there were over a dozen men; surely, they couldn't all expect to participate.

"Normally only immediate family, but I don't have any brothers and my father is dead; so, the honor befalls on my cousins. Only a few are old enough, like Marcus. But they are not my concern today, my only concern right now is that I would like a dance with my wife." He helped me to my feet and pulled me in close. I had gone to a few school dances in my life, most of which I sat on the sidelines watching others, too shy to put myself out there. He wrapped my left arm around his waist, taking my right hand into his left as he rested his right hand on my shoulder. We were pressed so close I couldn't watch my feet and could see him wince every time I stepped on his toes. I apologized, but then it'd happen again. And again.

"Relax, just listen to the music and let me lead." I closed my eyes, obeyed and soon he was moving us swiftly across the dance floor which was just a soft patch of grass near the barn. I would have never guessed that Sam could dance, he didn't seem like type. I found myself feeling lighter, almost joyful, if I didn't focus on the situation, I was in. Sunlight peered through the trees, and little rays of light danced along my skin.

I wasn't sure how long we stayed that way but by the time he stopped most of the guests had already made their way over to the buffet of food. I felt like I was on autopilot, simply going through the motions but not really checked into reality. He pulled me behind him and sat me down at the table that was horizontal and facing the other round ones. The men were dished first, then the children and lastly the wives. I sat in my chair, observing them while Sam dished me a plate. There were a lot of unfriendly looks sent both my way and Sam's, he was doing things backwards in comparison and I wondered just how well he truly fit in with his family. He didn't seem bothered by the looks, he smiled at me as he sat down and pushed my plate in front of me. I nibbled on the food as I listened to the men talk amongst themselves, swapping stories of their wedding nights. But what surprised me the most as that some of the women were talking amongst themselves as well, swapping recipes, sharing stories about the children. A few of them even looked somewhat normal and happy.

"You look absolutely ravishing." I felt a blush creep up my face and I hated that he was able to put it there.

"When did you pick out this dress?"

"While you were healing; stole your sizes off your clothes before you burned them. It is amazing what you can order online these days. Normally our ceremonies aren't this extravagant, but I knew the moment I saw you that you were going to be a special and I would hate to disappoint my family by actually conforming to their ways." There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and his smile seemed genuine; his positive attitude was almost contagious, but I refused to allow myself to fall for it.

I knew any moment the flip could be switched and the kind carefree man sitting beside me would turn into Arioch. It was as if I could almost feel him lurking just beneath the surface, watching, waiting for a moment to take over and take control. After our meal everyone was gathered into a large circle where Dale led us in prayer. Even the rambunctious children settled down long enough to lower their heads and clasp their little hands together in front of them.

"Lord, I just want to thank you for blessing this family with your love, your guidance and your continued blessings. We are humbled by your divinity and hope that one day we may bask in your glory..." Sam squeezed my hand tightly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I was the only one who didn't have their eyes closed or head bowed. When I didn't move fast enough, he squeezed even tighter causing my fingers to go numb. When a collective mutter of Amen swept the group, they broke away and Sam nodded to the kids who had been playing the tiny orchestra to finally put their instruments away and everyone started to pack their things away.

With so many hands, everything was picked up rather quickly, and after a few heartfelt goodbyes it was just the two of us. Even Hank had left for the night with some of his younger cousins. The trellis had been moved to rest at the edge of the garden behind his house, and the only thing left to grab was the round metal tub filled with ice and booze. I glanced at the keys that were still attached to his belt loop wondering if any of them were for his tow truck. I could always hit him over the head again, but then what would I do if they weren't the right keys? If I couldn't start it and drive away, what punishment awaited me then? Would he drown me again? Or perhaps he had some other clever ways of ending my life. Feeling defeated, I followed him inside. Once he set down the metal tub down on the coffee table, he turned towards me.

"Come closer, wife." I was only a few feet away, but the distance felt nearly impossible to close. My lower lip quivered, salty drops fell down my chin, soaking into the front of my dress. Sam frowned and when he reached for me, I took a step back.

"Don't do this now, we were so close to having the perfect day." I could only stare at his hand and shake my head.

"I don't want to," I confessed. He let out a long-exasperated sigh and his hand fell to his side.

"If I have to chase you, you are not going to like what I do when I catch you." I was filled with apprehension, my legs beginning to wobble, but I was even more afraid of what would become of me if I gave in; that's all it took was series of giving in. It seemed to get easier the more I did it, but I didn't want to slip away like the other women. I didn't want to look in the mirror in 20 years and find myself still wearing hideous pioneer dresses. I clenched my hands into fists, muscles tensing under the threat he posed. I knew I had nowhere to run to, the scars on my shoulder twinged in reminder.