29. Mina

The room fell eerily silent as Oscar picked his way through the broken sculptures and upturned chairs towards the main ballroom doors. Not even my mother came after me, a fact for which I would be eternally grateful.

I needed space. I needed to think.

Oscar found his way back through the labyrinth of Lachlan Hall's rooms to the grand entrance hall. I stepped outside. A crisp breeze raised goose pimples on my bare shoulders, and the veil stuck to my tear-stained cheeks as I descended the marble steps.

A pair of limo drivers were leaning against the hood of a limo, sharing a smoke. They sprung apart as Oscar and I approached.

"Are you all done in there, ma'am? We're here to take you to the photography location. Only…" I could feel his gaze sweeping over me. "Where are your husbands? And the bridesmaids? And the mother of the bride?"

"Why does your dress smell singed?" asked the other – a woman, her voice croaky from the cigarette.

"No one else is coming. It's just me." I swiped my hand across my cheeks, only managing to make my veil even stickier. "Take me into the village. Please."

Neither of them moved.

I thrust my hand on my hip. "Are you really going to deny a bride on her wedding day?"

"Arf," Oscar added.

"When you put it like that." The woman leapt up and opened the door for me. "Hop on in, ma'am."

I balled my ruined dress in my arms and half climbed, half flopped into the limo. I settled Oscar at my feet and collapsed into the long leather couch. A bottle of Champagne sat in an ice bucket, along with a rack of glasses and a little fridge filled with cans of fancy gin and tonic. I grabbed a can and cracked it, and shoved two more into my cleavage.

The only thing that had been keeping me sane since the turmoil with my book was knowing that everything in my relationship was perfect. That even if the world saw me as someone different, less than, ‘not relatable,' to Heathcliff, Morrie, and Quoth, I was exactly the same Mina that I'd always been.

But that wasn't true, was it?

How could I marry them now?

I raised the glass to my lips, fighting with my veil so I could take a long drink. I thought I heard a faint ‘quack' from the other end of the limo, but obviously, I was just imagining it.

"We've arrived at the village green, ma'am," the driver called. "Did you want me to wait for you, or?—"

"No." I flung myself out of the door, untangled Oscar's lead from around my legs, and took off across the green.

I didn't even look where I was going as I ran through the village, my white bridal Docs skidding over the ancient cobbles. My eyes blurred with tears. All I knew was that I needed to get away.

This is all my fault.

I'd tried to have it all. I tried to tell myself that I was the same person as I'd always been. I let down everyone, and I put everyone I love in danger. And now I was running from my own wedding.

I couldn't go back to Nevermore Bookshop. I couldn't sit in that empty building surrounded by all the memories of them, of the place where I found myself again, and think about this rationally. I needed to figure out what my heart was doing, what this crushing sensation in my chest meant.

My heart pounded against my ribs, and pain shot from my empty stomach down my leg. I stopped, my hands on my knees as I fought to catch my breath.

When I looked up, I saw that I was in front of Argleton Presbyterian Church.

And suddenly, despite all the trouble religious people had caused me, that open door looked like the most inviting place in the world.

I stepped inside. My boots squeaked on the polished floor.

"Hello?" I called out, but there was no reply.

My feet led me across the nave to the spiral staircase leading to the bell tower. A flash of memory caught me unaware. Nearly a year ago, I found a pregnant Ginny Button at the bottom of these same steps, her neck snapped after she was pushed. I stepped over the spot where her body was found. My fingers trembled as I fumbled for the velvet rope blocking off the staircase, and climbed over.

Oscar whimpered as I directed him up the staircase, pushing back against my command. It wasn't like him to disobey unless there was a danger I couldn't see, but there wasn't any danger on the staircase apart from slipping on the ancient steps. He'd had a lot of stimulation today. After another try, he moved forward, and we started to climb. My boots slipped and slid over the worn, uneven stone steps. I kept one hand tight on Oscar's harness and the other on the wall to steady myself in the narrow curving staircase.

By now, the guys would be looking all over the village for me. Heathcliff would be tearing his hair out with rage.

It wasn't his fault, any of this. It was my fault for thinking that everything would be the same. But I had to sort out my heart before I could speak to them. I just needed a few moments to gather myself.

My chest heaved as I made it to the top of the stairs. Oscar panted from the climb. My hands felt around the edges of the heavy wooden door until they located the handle. I pushed outward, relieved when the door gave way and I was greeted by a blast of cool air.

I clambered out onto the roof of the bell tower. It was a small square space with a narrow stone walkway around the edge, and a glass and lead peaked roof in the center. Up here, the wind tore through the village, pelting me from three directions and plastering my veil to my face.

I tore it out of my hair and tossed it over the edge. Whoever thought veils were a good idea?

I leaned against the railing and removed one of the GTs from my bra. I cracked it open. Drinking helped with the thinking. Oscar pawed at my leg.

"Oscar, sit."

Once again, he wasn't listening to me. He made the whining noise that I'd come to recognise as his signal for danger.

"Oscar, I know this has been a rough day, and you're overstimulated, but I need you to remember your training. I need to think?—"

"Hello, Mina."

The voice, familiar for all the wrong reasons, turned my blood to ice.

I'm not alone on this roof.