'Till Death Do Us Part

Note: Trigger warnings are specified at the end of the story to avoid spoilers.

The orchestra pulls the strings into a harmonious love song. Each chord feels weighted, every pause deliberate, as the melody fills the church. The notes float high into the gilded ceiling before bouncing back, carrying their echo.

Enzo stands at the altar, gaze anchored on the one standing across him. He eyes her from head to toe, for what is surely the hundredth time that day. She is a sight he will never get enough of.

White satin clings to her skin, becoming one with her body. Its silky embrace stretches from her chest down to her knees, where it flares into a wide train that flows onto the floor. It brings Enzo back to a freezing winter and the thin, first layer of snow; to the stranger he would one day marry and the icy blanket covering the world around her.

The thought makes his smile widen. He mindlessly looks up again, searching for the one who banished the cold from his life. A sheer veil shrouds her face down to her nose in the faintest ivory. Lacey blossoms clutch the organza onto the amber of her immaculate updo, which then floats down her back.

God, she's absolutely breathtaking. He wishes time would stop. He wishes he could live in this moment forever, with the love of his life and the violins playing in adagio. It feels utterly magical, or, as some might call it, love.

The priest clears his throat. Enzo reluctantly shifts his gaze to the man conducting the ceremony. His white and gold embroidered robes flutter as he gestures towards the couple.

"You may now kiss," he declares with a smile. His powerful voice reverberates all around, as if touched by the divine.

Enzo steps forward. He has waited for this moment since she came in through those doors. She, too, draws closer until they're in touching distance. Enzo takes the hem of the veil between his fingers, letting himself feel its silkiness before he finally lifts it with unhurried reverence.

Her mossy green eyes glow with the myriad of colors filtering through the stained-glass rose at the end of the hall. The rainbow lingers down to her cheekbones, to the freckles dusting her complexion in a constellation that's only hers. They're framed by a gold lock on each side, purposefully curled hours before. And in the middle of it all is her smile, bursting with the same unparalleled joy Enzo feels. He feels his own grin widening now that he has finally seen how beautiful she looks.

With one last step, their bodies nearly touch. Enzo rests one hand on her back, feeling the satin for the first time. It's smooth, though he much prefers her skin. With a tilt of his head, he meets her eyes one last time, letting himself drown in the love they contain before giving in. When their lips meet, hers feel as soft and sweet as any other day; nothing's changed. Enzo isn't sure why he thought it might.

The crowd cheers. It's embarrassing, though not nearly enough to part from her.

So… this is it. They are finally married. Any second now, Enzo would pull away, and for the first time, the love of his life would officially be his wife.

A shudder runs down his spine. A chill, perhaps of excitement? Or is it anxiety? She seems to feel it too, tensing up against him. Enzo pulls back, slowly, hiding his own unease.

He barely contains a shriek. One hand flies to his face, covering his mouth that hangs open. His wife is gone; in her stead stands what he can only describe as a living corpse.

The whites of her eyes are a deep scarlet, not just bloodshot, and the irises clouded as if life had long departed them. The skin around them is sunken to the bone, flushed dark hematoma, eerie against her ghostly white, almost translucent complexion. Dark hair knots into a soggy mat ready to drip with something unspeakable.

Her bruised lips morph into something that resembles a smile. It's the most horrifying thing Enzo has ever seen. His body urges him to leave, to run the hell out of there. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, trying to break free; all that remains is for his legs to follow.

But how can he, when he doesn't know what the hell happened to his wife?

"Nora?"

He calls out her name, hoping it's just the exhaustion from the last week of preparations creeping up at last, making him see things.

The woman cocks her head and smiles further. Oh god. Her gums and teeth are caked with murky old blood; he can barely make them out.

Enzo feels his guts clenching and twisting and turning; he feels the nausea climbing from his stomach to the back of his throat. Every bone in his body is begging to flee, but he can't. Not yet.

He swallows the queasiness back down and forces himself to look at her a while longer, anything to find an answer.

His wife's dress sags over the woman's gaunt frame, barely holding on. The slightest movement, and it might just drop to the ground. She's clutching the bouquet of peonies in her bony hands, which seem to sap the life out of the wilting ivory and lavender petals.

None of it makes sense; Enzo fears he is going insane. He whips his head to the audience for help. He can't be the only one seeing this. They'll help him, right?

All he finds is an empty church. Only the hydrangeas remain, lining each side of the hall in violet and blue, in the hues of the sky following a storm. Those same rows of seats that were, nonetheless, filled to the brim minutes before with the most important people in their lives.

Enzo seeks solace in the priest, his last hope. But even he is gone. He doesn't know why he let himself believe otherwise. A pit opens in his stomach. He's alone with... that.

"What?" He mumbles.

He didn't mean to speak. He has a dozen more important questions to ask this monster. His mind is doing somersaults trying to wrap itself around the last minute of his life.

"What?" She repeats, taunting him, twisting her features into a mocking grimace.

"What did you do to her?" He shouts, consumed by a newfound fire.

How dare she make a joke out of his concern? Out of whatever she has done to everyone he cares about? He clenches his jaw, harder and harder, until he feels the bone ache.

"Me?" she scoffs, "You did this."

The pit in Enzo's stomach widens with a sting as his heart weakens for the first time since he saw the monster. What could she possibly mean? He had simply kissed Nora, and she was gone.

"N-no."

He shakes his head, over and over. He no longer knows whether he's trying to convince the woman or himself.

"You made her miserable," She spits.

No. Enzo refuses to believe her. He had given his wife everything. They have been through joy and through grief, and always came out stronger on the other end. He had witnessed her smile grow brighter each day in the lead-up to the wedding, and she had just read the most tender of vows to him.

So why? Why would the monster say such things? Before Enzo can ask, she lunges.

Shock paralyses him, enough that he can't dodge the claws coming at him. They latch around his throat, squeezing, breaking the skin under her force. He can still breathe, but barely.

He catches a faint reflection of himself in the ashy cloudiness of her irises; his eyes bulge with the most terrified look of bewilderment. Is she going to kill him?

As he tries to collect himself, to gather the strength to fight, the monster forcibly presses her lips against his. The nausea rises from his stomach again, only to be shoved back down as he tastes what can only be described as decay.

The last thing he feels is the flesh of his lips tearing apart, before everything fades to black.

***

Enzo shoots up from under the sheets, hands clawing at his throat as he gasps for air. What the hell was that?

His fingers fall into emptiness, but the ache of a crushed trachea lingers. Enzo waits out the feeling, then lets his body fall back into bed. He accepts the warmth with a sigh, letting it work into his body and ease his ragged breaths and racing heart.

The nightlight lets him find Nora sleeping peacefully by his side, body rising and falling with each quiet breath. Thank god... He scoots closer to her, wrapping her in his arms. He rests his chin on her shoulder, basking in her warmth as he takes in deep breaths, one after the other, from that spot behind her ear. It's her natural scent, it's addictive, and it soothes him beyond logic.

Enzo doesn't know how long he has held her when she turns in his embrace. The naked skin of his shoulder turns to goosebumps as she presses her face into it. He brings one hand up to feel it, first to her cheek, then to her nose. It tears a chuckle out of him.

"Why does your nose always feel like it's made of ice?" He asks with adoration.

He is used to it by now. He loves it, actually, because he's the one who gets to warm her up.

Nora produces a tender smile against the same skin that shivered at her touch seconds before; Enzo figures it's as good a reply as any drowsy, incoherent phrase she might have muttered between two breaths.

Enzo tightens one arm around her waist while reaching for her head with the other. He runs his fingers over her scalp, threading them between fluffy strands.

As he fiddles with her hair, the dim lighting catches onto it in a golden shimmer. He would've let himself be enthralled by what seemed like sunlight radiating off it, if not for the silver glint coming from his finger.

His wedding band.

It's been five years since. Enzo shuts his eyes as he lets the realization sink in. He has finally found peace after that nightmare. Nora is there, safe in his arms, and she's not leaving.

As her breathing stills, Enzo senses the fatigue finally reach him. He plants his lips on the top of her head, kissing that same spot until the curve of his smile grows too wide to continue.

Carefully, he detangles his limbs from hers, slowly, so as not to wake her up, letting out a breath of relief when he succeeds. As Enzo's head hits the pillow, his lids grow heavier. One more breath, and his mind will plunge into the land of dreams.

But Enzo can't stop the urge. He wants to look at Nora one last time. He needs to see her peaceful features as she dozes soundly. Only then will he feel reassured enough to let himself drift off.

A miserable howl pierces the air.

The monster is here. Her dead eyes burn holes into Enzo's skull without even a blink. Not again. This can't be real. Just seconds ago, it was his Nora. He is sure of it; he would never mistake the way she feels.

"Fuck! No..." His voice is a mix of anger and pain, of powerlessness and confusion.

He yanks his head from the pillow, jolting up. The tiredness is gone, but his legs are paralyzed by shock; he can't move. Enzo manages to drag his body, inch by inch, using only his arms. There is no plan. He will come up with one when he reaches the edge of the bed.

Before he can distance himself further, a hand shoots in his direction. She holds Enzo's arm within her icy palm, searing his skin into what feels like frostbite.

His heartbeat quickens as dread fills his veins. Why is she smiling again? He can't look at it another second as bile threatens to rise to his throat.

"Look at what you did!"

"No, no, no, no..."

He repeats the words like a mantra, as if they will make the monster vanish. Enzo's torso rocks back and forth as he holds his shaking head in denial. That's when the thought creeps in: Is he going insane?

"You ruined her life." She snarls.

No. Not again. Why does the monster want Enzo to believe that? His body freezes. He may not understand any of this, but he knows he has to wake up. This isn't real. It's all still part of the nightmare, and he can't live through it another second, not knowing whether his wife is safe.

"You think waking up will change anything?" There's nothing but venom in her voice.

Enzo smells the air around him shift into something stale. He doesn't get to wonder what it is; he feels it. Five fingers press into his head in an uncomfortable crush. Then, sharp nails break open the skin, dig into it, but before he can feel the extent of the pain, an image overtakes his senses.

***

A white sheet hangs from the ceiling. From it, a body is swaying. Below, a chair lies knocked on its side under the woman's feet.

Wait- is that? It looks like Nora's hair.

The image draws closer.

No. It can't be. Her face is ghostly white, save for the violet of her lips and under her eyes.

Oh god, Nora...

***

A breathless gasp rips the agony from Enzo's core.

What?

Enzo now meets the monster's smile with lifeless eyes. It doesn't scare him anymore, not when he has just witnessed something much worse.

If this is real, then he might as well die now. Whether it's at the monster's hands or because it has become too much for his heart to endure, he doesn't care.

He feels nothing anymore. Not the trembling of his lips, nor the tears leaving streaks down his cheeks. Not even the hollow, sinking pain in his gut.

In his state of shock, Enzo can only keep replaying that image.

Had he actually turned Nora's life into a living hell?

The monster's bloodstained grin widens. How is that possible? Her face looks like it's about to split in two.

This doesn't happen in the real world. He is still inside the nightmare.

Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!

"You're pathetic." She spits, face twisting in disgust.

Enzo shakes his head. She isn't real; none of this is. He reassures himself. Once he wakes up, she will be gone.

The monster flashes him another bruised smile. She's evil incarnate.

"I'm six feet under and yet, I'm still here." A vile finger drums on Enzo's forehead. "What makes you think you can get rid of me that easily?"

The ominous confession only adds to Enzo's confusion. As his eyebrows twist into a knot, her smile curves the slightest bit.

A hand surges between their faces. Its wrinkled skin is pale as death; it revolts him, like the rest of her. Just as he is about to once again push down the queasiness and ask what he's supposed to be looking at, he catches it. Regrettably so.

A silver wedding band matching his.

His heart drops into an abyss; his muscles shrivel and give out in defeat. Even Enzo's mind locks itself away and out of his reach, leaving behind only one last word.

Nora?

Trigger Warnings: This story contains depictions of suicide, psychological distress, and graphic images.