Bridal Market

Miriam was a modern independent woman.

She had a degree, a good internship, an income, a nice room in a small apartment, two cats even. She went to Starbucks regularly, listened to indie music while sipping cheap wine and found her guilty pleasure in cringy romance novels.

None of her colleagues would have ever guessed that she ran away from a weird cult-like community when she was just a teenager.

She didn't speak about that. While should she, after all? She never planned to go back.

But life rarely goes as planned.

So, after when sister begged her to come back to Misty barrow one last time to say goodbye, as the last wish of her dying mother, Miriam did. Packed a backpack and followed.

Huge mistake.

It was their culture, their way, they said as they forced her into that flimsy white dress, braided flowers in her hair. That's how it was supposed to be, her very not-dying mother commented, as she pushed the aphrodisiac under her tongue, kept her mouth shut as it melted, entered her system. She was going to thank them one day, whispered her father, as he dragged her to the main square of the village, where the annual bridal market was held.

Miriam growled and kicked and bit and spat.

She didn't want to be there, under the appraising eyes of the whole fucking community. She didn't want to see her former neighbors, the same that spanked her whenever she climbed a tree, her past teachers, that made her eat soap for the wrong word, her once-upon-a-time c***dhood friends, that stole her clothes whenever they went swimming.

She despised them. All of them.

But when her uncle came to lift her dress her tights were drenched with slick.