Chapter 3 - The Departure
The organist, who had been frozen in place, accidentally hit a low, discordant bass note that rumbled through the sanctuary.
Emily let out a sharp, hysterical sob. "Daniel, no! I love you! I did it for us! I wanted our wedding day to be perfect. I wanted us to look like a normal, beautiful couple. Is that so wrong?"
"A normal couple doesn't build their life on the bones of the sister who saved them," Daniel said. He looked up at the priest, who was standing by the altar with his Bible clutched to his chest, looking entirely out of his depth.
"There won't be a ceremony today, Father," Daniel said clearly.
He walked down the altar steps, his eyes never returning to Emily, who was now crying openly, her mascara running down her perfect, pale cheeks. He walked over to his mother, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Thank you, Mom," he whispered.
Then, Daniel turned to me. He knelt down beside my wheelchair, his eyes filled with a deep, sincere sorrow. "Clara... I am so, so sorry. For all of it. For not seeing it sooner. For letting her treat you like a secret."
"It's not your fault, Daniel," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "You didn't know."
"I should have," he said. He reached out, gently touching the edge of my gloved hand. "Let’s get you out of here."
My mother finally stood up, her voice high and panicked. "Daniel, wait! We can talk about this! Mark, say something!"
My father stood up, but his mouth only opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. He had spent twelve years letting my mother and Emily run our family, letting them dictate who was valuable and who was a shameful reminder of the night they had failed to save their own children. He had nothing left to say.
I didn't wait for them. I placed my hands on the wheels of my chair and turned away from the altar.
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I didn't look back at Emily, who had collapsed onto the steps of the altar, her beautiful pearl-white dress pooling around her in the dirt of her own making. I didn't look at my parents, who were now realizing that the golden empire of their perfect youngest daughter had just collapsed into ash.
I rolled down the aisle, flanked by Margaret and Daniel, the heavy wooden doors of the church swinging open to reveal the bright, warm Charleston sunshine waiting for us outside.
