Prompt 4 - Raggdolly

*Both of these pictures shaped this prompt*

“Isabella! You’re going to be late!” Momma’s voice is muffled through my door and down the stairs. I pray she doesn’t venture up to my room, and I take a quick glance. The lock is in place. If I don’t answer, she’ll send Emmett to find out why.

“Just… just a second!”

I gasp, feeling breathless and exhilarated by his touch. His lips on my neck, the tip of his tongue against my throat. He is my secret.  

“Will you write?” Edward asks, coveting and nipping below my ear. I cover my mouth and moan, gripping his white shirt into my hands. I feel I can’t control myself or the words that will fall from my lips. He sets me free, and in that freedom there is sadness. I pull him closer, wanting to feel every ounce of his weight on me so I can remember him every way I can.

“All the time,” I promise. “Every waking moment.” I find his mouth again and press my lips to his. I always want him like this.

I let my legs fall from his waist, opening and giving into the thrill I’ve never allowed myself. I find his skin under his t-shirt, and his back is slick with sweat. I want nothing more than to belong to him right now, and when his hard jeans press against me my nails sink into his shoulders. “I don’t want to leave,” I say against his ear. “I’ve changed my mind.”

I should’ve kept my mouth quiet. “You have to go, Bella” He leans up and moves from between my legs and pulls me next to him on the bed. I miss the nearness of his body against mine. “Out of everyone, they chose you. I don’t want you to be like me.” He tucks a bit of hair behind my ear and grins a little. “Stuck here in this town with nothing at all going for you.”

But I don’t want to leave him because I feel when I walk out of this room that’ll be it. I’ll never see him again. “I want to be where you are,” I say, not able to look into his beautiful, green eyes. If I do, I’ll cry.

“If you go then I’ll apply next year, and maybe we can go to the same college.”

“But you never planned on going.”

“Things change. I never planned on falling in love with you, neither.”

“Isabella!” Momma calls again, and my heart flutters. It’s too soon. I’m not ready to leave him! My bag has been packed since last night. Some clothes, but mostly pictures of him and me, of our times together and what we’ve seen. The camera is sitting next to my socks, waiting for the adventures into the great, wide world.

“Isabella Marie Swan! If you don’t march down those stairs in two shakes, I’m gonna come up there and yank you down!”

I yell over my shoulder toward the door. “Coming, Momma!”

Hot breath rushes over me, and he’s kissing me again. And it feels like goodbye. I tell myself not to cry, but it does no good. A tear falls with a horrible heat and a pain in my throat. “I love you,” I say, my forehead pressed to his. The feel of his palm resting on my hip throws me into cloud nine.

“I love you, too.”

We’re off the bed, splitting in two directions: me for my bag and him for the window. “While you’re gone, I’ll warm up to your father, get him to like me. We’ll be together again soon. I promise.” He’s out the window and climbing down the tree that has grown up against the house all my seventeen years. His auburn hair is the last thing I see of him.

I’m down the stairs with my bag in tow, feeling a swell in my chest. I don’t want to leave anymore. I don’t want to be that special girl. Maybe they got it wrong. I’ve never been the lucky one. I’m nothing special to look at, or talk to, though I’ve been told different.by the man I love. I’m not ready for any of this, to be the chosen one. There’s nothing wrong with staying around here and getting married to Edward, and having lots of babies like all the other women.

“What took you so long up there?” Momma asks, resting her hand on top of her pregnant stomach. She has a habit of rubbing it a lot, saying it soothes my baby sister, but mostly I think it soothes her. It looks like she shoved a basketball up her dress. When is she ever going to stop having kids? She’s been pregnant more times than I can count on two hands. Most have been miscarriages, but some have been good. Sometimes she’ll lay on the couch after cleaning the kitchen and just stare at the lump. I wonder what goes through her mind when she just stares like that.

“Sorry. I had to finish packing everything.” A rush of heat pulses through me, and I hope I can conceal the lie. If they knew I had Edward, or any boy in my room, they wouldn’t ever let me leave. They would lock me up and throw away the key. Any thought of Edward in my future would be gone, and he’d never have a chance to warm up to Dad.

“I’m sure by now you’ve kept the preacher waiting for far too long. He doesn’t take kindly to sorry piddlers. He’s a busy man.”

“I know, Momma.”  

“My little sister's all grown up,” Emmett says, and squeezes me until I feel I can’t take another breath. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Don’t go through my stuff,” I threaten, but smile. Everything he could find to show Daddy and Momma I’ve got on me. All of my letters from Edward, all of our pictures. My most treasured possessions, as I was told to only bring the essentials.

I hug my young sisters, Mary and Alice, and tell them how much I love them and how much they look more like themselves everyday. Twins like to hear they’re their own people sometimes. Others, they like to know they have someone like them. They’re too young to understand where I’m going, only seven, but I kindly explain I’m going to a big city far away to get a proper education. I tell them how much I’m going to miss them, and I’ll see them soon.

Momma adjusts my blouse and skirt, then messes with my hair. She smiles like a proud momma would then ushers me out the door where Dad is already waiting in the truck. I throw my small luggage in the back and when we pull away I say good-bye to my home.

The church isn’t much of anything. It’s a white, wooden building that looks as though termites have been eating at its walls for a hundred years. A large steeple reaches for the sky with the cross on top. Before there was ever a town, there was that raggedy church. Momma said people used to come from miles around to hear the preacher read the words from the bible. I’ve never been inside. I’ve never been to any sermons or heard any words from that man they call Preacher. Only Momma and Daddy have, because it’s only for the proper family members, but I’ll be proper soon and I start shaking just thinking about it. My excitement returns all over again.

“Leave the bags,” Daddy says, slamming the old door shut on his truck. I nod and follow them to the door. The grass has grown up around the cement steps and the porch looks like it could cave in to nothing if we walk across it, but when Daddy goes and nothing happens I go, too. Momma follows, and we’re inside the small church. The ceiling is high and every step echoes into the rafters. A full congregation has formed and Momma is right, we’ve kept Preacher waiting. He’s a pale man with long, black hair and black robes reaching to the floor. I want to giggle because it looks like he’s wearing a dress. He’s standing on a raised platform, slightly higher than the rest of the people, but this is because people need to hear him.

He extends his arms and the people filling up the inside of the church rise to their feet as we walk down the aisle. I recognize many of them; my teachers and Mr. Newton from the hardware store, along with some of our neighbors. Everyone has come to see me off.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Preacher says, and when we get to him, he reaches for me and I give him my hand. He’s cold, not at all like my Edward. My chest is hollow at that thought. I miss him already.

“Isabella Marie Swan,” Preacher whispers, his eyes never leaving mine. “The Chosen One. This is the highest honor anyone of your age can ever receive.” He smiles crookedly, and I don’t like it. It feels forced and fake because his eyes don’t smile; they seem empty and cruel.

He looks back at my parents, and I do, too. Momma has her hands on her belly again, and Daddy has his arm around her. They nod and I’m guided by Preacher onto the stage. He holds out his hand to a wooden table sitting on top of thick plastic, and on the table was the same plastic. “Sit here,” he says, and I do, jumping on top of the table with my legs hanging over. I adjust my skirt over my knees, and cross my ankles. Preacher moves behind me.

“Glorious is this day,” Preacher says, “when we evoke Him through this humbled girl. Glorious is the night when she has given all that she can give to us through mind, body and soul. We are thankful for this girl and this sacrifice she makes for all of us.” His words echo around us and into the high ceiling. The people, even Momma and Daddy, nod and say praise.

I lie back as I'm asked to do for the ceremony and when I feel a cold touch my wrists, I startle. “What are you doing?” I ask as Preacher leans over me and unfastens a hidden cuff, anchoring my arm to the table and squeezing me tight. My heart begins to bump harder into my chest and I look to Momma. She smiles then mouths you were born for this.

“No,” I say. “No!” I begin to kick and wiggle against that table, while Preacher shushes me. I don’t listen to him! I won’t listen to him! I want Edward! I just want Edward! I call out his name, but I know he can’t hear me. We’re too far away from the houses to be heard by anyone. “Momma! Daddy! What are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

Preacher tucks a large cloth between my teeth and ropes it around my head. I can no longer speak, but I can scream. That’s what I do. I scream while the people I’ve known all my life don’t care. They do nothing to help me. Instead they start to babble strange things, even Momma and Daddy!

A low bell sounds through the church, and I look to my feet, seeing the bell ringer. Mr. Cullen! Edward’s dad! Even he’s in on it!

“Hail, Satan!” Preacher says.

“Hail, Satan!” the church follows. Their voices stay put in the rafters above our heads and linger there, refusing to come down. I feel fire begin to crush my insides as tears form in my eyes. The want to cry stings my throat.

“We offer this girl as sacrifice to You! Take this sinless girl and twist her bones so You won’t twist ours!” Preacher says and I squirm again. “Sup on her flesh as we will in Your name, for she is whole and good for the roast! Hail, Satan!”

“Hail, Satan!”

Preacher turns away and then when he’s by my side again, he’s holding a gleaming silver tool. I scream at him, knowing he means to inflict pain. He presses the sharp blade to my blouse buttons and pops them off, one by one. I want to cover myself, but I can’t. I can only cry and hope they give me some mercy, to stop before it even begins.

I scream at the fire on my stomach when he presses down. It lasts forever! It burns when he slides the blade across my skin. There is pressure there, inside my belly and I can feel it in my spine. I see flashes of light in my eyes, and then, like it never happened, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Edward’s there, whispering in my ear saying he would see me soon. I see my parents, rocking to and fro in their chairs, their mouths moving with the people behind them. I don’t understand them or what they’re saying. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know for sure I was never meant to leave this town, and I wasn’t meant to stay in it neither.

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Can you believe we're getting so close to the collab? We can't either! Nerdy returns tomorrow, but until then sweet dreams. Don't forget to check under the bed (or, going by Liv's prompt yesterday, in the closet).

The Unholy Trinity