Elena Vasquez

Six days until the wedding.

I awakened in tears. Was unable to cease.

Not the noisy theatrical type. The silent relentless sort that escapes from the edges of your eyes as your chest collapses inward. Alexander sensed it even before he opened his eyes; his arm squeezed my waist his palm resting where the red vein had been. He didn’t question what troubled me. He was already aware.

I was the dream again.

The cathedral platform.

The scarlet heart suspended by chains.

We all ...