Chapter 11 - The Cruelest Blow
For a terrifying second, time seemed to stand still. I lay on the marble floor in my ruined, blood-stained wedding gown, my head throbbing with agonizing pain, listening to the mocking laughter of the two people who were supposed to protect me above all others.
Dad pointed down at me, sneering at the horrified crowd. "She brought this on herself! She disrespects her family!"
Mom raised the heavy iron table higher, preparing to bring it down for a second strike, completely lost to her narcissistic rage. The guests screamed, pressing themselves back against the banquet tables, paralyzed by the sheer shock of the violence unfolding before their eyes.
My parents thought they had won. They believed their cruelty was absolute, that I was permanently trapped beneath their boot heels, and that no one would ever dare challenge their authority over their own flesh and blood.
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They were catastrophically wrong.
Because standing right beside me was a man who didn't view me as background scenery. A man who loved me with every fiber of his being, and whose fury at seeing me assaulted on our wedding day was biblical.
