Chapter 3 - The Grave of Roses
"Arthur, what are you doing?!" Vanessa screamed, grabbing his arm.
Her manicured nails dug into his tuxedo jacket.
"Are you insane? The ceremony!"
Arthur didn't look at her.
He shoved her back with a force that sent her stumbling.
He raised the golden hammer and drove it directly into the center of the wall.
*CRACK.*
Wood splintered.
The massive floral structure shuddered.
Guests screamed and backed away from the stage.
Arthur swung again, fueled by a primal, blinding adrenaline.
He tore away entire sections of the wall with his bare hands, ignoring the thorns that sliced his palms.
He ripped down the white roses until the false wooden backing was fully exposed.
With one final, violent swing, the plywood gave way.
The darkness inside was suffocating.
The smell of dust, sweat, and copper hit the air.
Arthur fell to his knees, reaching into the narrow, claustrophobic compartment built into the staging.
His hands found something soft.
Trembling, he pulled.
A collective shriek echoed through the ballroom.
Several guests fainted; others raised their hands to their mouths in sheer horror.
It was Eleanor.
She was bound tightly with heavy zip ties, her wrists and ankles bruised purple.
A thick strip of silver duct tape was plastered across her mouth.
Her hair was matted with sweat.
Her beautiful wedding gown from seven years ago—which Vanessa had insisted was missing from the closet—was torn and covered in dirt.
She was barely conscious, her eyes rolling back, deprived of oxygen in the stifling wooden tomb.
"Oh my god," Arthur choked out, a sob tearing from his throat.
"Eleanor. Ellie."
He frantically ripped the tape from her mouth.
Eleanor took a sharp, agonizing gasp of air, her body convulsing as she looked up at her husband.
Tears spilled down her dirt-streaked face.
May you like
"Arthur," she whispered hoarsely.
"She... she locked me in."
