Pamela's POV
The day of the wedding came, and it felt like a rope tightening around my throat.
When the make-up artist and stylist came into my room, they didn't ask questions, they just started working on me like I was some doll.
The Fancy silk dresses were spread out on the bed, and shiny jewels sparkled in little boxes. They brushed my hair until it flowed down my back like a dark river, wove silver strings into it, and put a deep red color on my lips.
I sat there without moving while they put on the dress Ambrose had picked out. The white silk stuck to my waist and dragged behind me in heavy, fancy folds. Its weight wasn't just from the fabric, it was the weight of everything I was about to lose.
When they finally put a veil on my head, and I looked in the mirror, I hardly knew myself.
I didn't see the girl who used to be part of her family. I saw a bride dressed for a sacrifice.
