Dying of Guilt

Dying of Guilt

A Story by E.V. Black
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She was so happy, but then she suffered.

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“Can you believe it? I’m so happy for her!”

            “Yes, she deserves all the best in the world. It is a shame that she…she is…”

            Dying. There was the unspoken word left out in the open for all to guess. It was hard to think, but it was even harder to say. The two women, both fresh and in their thirties, looked at each other in deep sorrow. They were friends of the bride and the groom. They knew what the bride faced, and it hung over the joyous event like a cloud. Quickly, their eyes illuminated when a slim figure passed them. The figure was a woman garbed in white satin and white lace. Her blond hair was a waterfall that cascade down the gentle slope of her shoulders and over the curve of her back. A sheer white veil rode atop her crown and flowed with the water of her hair, partially hiding it from view.

            Before she entered the reception, her pink lips were turned up into a truly happy smile. For, who could not be happy at their own wedding? When she entered, the young woman faltered. The words pierced her. The smile on her face hesitated to linger but was forced to continue as she made her presence known. Her friends serenaded her with compliments and wishes for a prosperous future. It was all to be expected, but the bride’s expression was not of happiness. It was forced, though no one could possibly detect it because she was a phenomenal actress.

            “The donations and the money were wonderful gifts,” one guest gushed.

            “Indeed. Especially the boutique! It was so generous of them to give her the dress for free. I can’t imagine how much it cost,” another guest answered the first. Then, she laughed in jest. “Maybe I should pretend to have cancer so Fred and I won’t have to pay for our wedding.”

            “Nah, it wouldn’t work.”

            The bride could hear every single snippet of conversation. She did not feel like smiling. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die in oblivion, but it was too late. She had made the decision long ago to go through with it. She was a coward; this she knew too well. Still, the thought made her nearly physically sick to her stomach.

            How could I? she thought. How could I?

            “Everything is so beautiful,” another, different guest said. “Angela!” The guest called out to her and beckoned her over. Her best friend Jeff frantically waved his hand. Her bowed head rose up. She met his bright smile with yet another artificial one. Angela lifted her long skirts in her hands and rushed over to meet him. Jeff wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her close. They were always like brother and sister. “How are you? You are beautiful today.”

            No, I’m not, she thought. I’m ugly, uglier than any human has any right to be.

            Instead, Angela scoffed, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that come out of your mouth.”

            Jeff’s brow furrowed. “Angela, I’m serious. This has to be hard for you, especially because…of your cancer.”

            The room grew dark. All of the guests, and even her new husband, turned around to stare at her. Luminous eyes fixed on her, burning into her and igniting her heartbeat. Angela’s smile dropped from her lips into a round O. Her jaw moved noiselessly, and no words escaped until a few seconds later.

            “I�"I�"I�"I…I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “Your cancer. Or don’t you remember all the chemotherapy trips?” Jeff hissed mockingly. Except, the man who was supposed to be Jeff was not Jeff. Jeff’s features melted into a malevolent and shadowy expression. It pushed into Angela’s face and growled at her.

            In fact, every person in the room underwent the same transformation as Jeff’s shadow. What had been familiar and loving faces were now as twisted and malicious as Jeff’s new body. None of them were what they once appeared to be. Angela’s hands lifted to cover her mouth in fright. Her heart raced inside her chest. Natural instinct pushed her to seek safety. Her body pressed against the suffocating crowd that, in turn, pressed against her. She could not escape.

            “Yes, Angela,” whispered a guest. “Or what about the rings? The free rings that the jeweler made especially for you and your love.”

            “Or the lovely honeymoon sweet promised you?”

            “The relaxing trip to Hawaii?”

            “The champagne?”

            “The chocolate-covered strawberries.”

            “The Jacuzzi.”

            “The�"”

            “No!” she shrieked. The crowd pressed in on her, reaching their hands out towards her. “No! Don’t do this. Please!”

            “Why shouldn’t we?”

            “You deserve it.”

            “You lied.”

            “Traitor.”

            “Admit it.”

            Tears streamed one after another down her cheeks. She sank to the floor. Her beautiful dress pooled around her. The dress was a deep red, stained evermore by each tear that hit its fabric. Angela buried her face into her hands. The pressing bodies glowered at her. She would never admit it. Her guilt was too much for words. She choked out a soft cry. The bodies paused, listening, and then moved in once more. Their mouths opened and their tongues elongated into tenebrous tentacles. The tentacles wrapped around Angela’s waist, lifted her up into the air, and squeezed her.

            First, a surprised cry glutted from her throat. Second, the tentacles crushed her ribs and her organs. All sound exited from her lungs with a whisper of air. Her flesh instantly grew pale and then blue from the suffocation. Her eyes were wide as she watched herself suffocate and, finally, torn apart. At this point, Angela was still alive; her heart potently beat inside her chest. In place of blood, dark matter slithered from the orifices in her body created by the beasts surrounding her.

            She saw her death over and over again. She experienced the overwhelming guilt. She wished that she could erase it. She wished that she could do it all over again and not choose what she had chosen. She wished so many things, but all she could do was suffer.

© 2012 E.V. Black


Author's Note

E.V. Black
Make your decisions wisely, or you may end up regretting them.

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Added on June 9, 2012
Last Updated on June 9, 2012
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E.V. Black
E.V. Black

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My name is E.V. Black and I am honored that you have decided to peruse my profile. I started my writing career at a young age and have been writing for a very long time. I write in practically every f.. more..

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