Page 15 of Bartholomew
I couldn’t look at him again. I could not look at him and see that same disgust I heard in the voices of the surrounding men. I tried to drown them out, but it was nearly impossible. The touch I could push away. I could pretend I was somewhere else. Somewhere safe and warm and sunny. A beach, perhaps. With waves lapping on the shores and birds calling into the horizon.
Instead, I only heard their voices.
“Bartholomew is a saint for what he will have to do next.”
“I wouldn’t want to be him. To have to lie between those massive thighs every night? Just finding the right place will be a feat in and of itself.”
“Did the shipment come in?”
“Not until tomorrow. It was delayed.”
“I don’t think we have ever had such a large girl get married before.”
On and on, their voices mingled and echoed around the room. They sounded as booming as cannon fire in my ears.
Don’t show emotion. Don’t show them anything.
“She is pure!” The doctor called from between my legs as though he were announcing the birth of a baby.
“Praise God, our Father! It is time to consummate this union!” Reverend Jacob called out. I tried to ignore what was happening, but as I felt Bartholomew leave my side, taking his place where the Doctor had just stood, the reality of what was about to happen hit me like a ton of bricks.
Bartholomew was about to —
We were about —
In front of —
The panic flushed over my body like a tidal wave. I took a deep breath.
Don’t show emotion. Don’t show them anything.
I wasn’t here. I wouldn’t let myself be here, in this moment. It wasn’t the first time I had needed to remove myself from what was happening around me. To retreat into a safe part of my mind where the words being thrown at me, the looks that were given to me, ceased to exist and didn’t matter.
The problem with that was that they did matter. It all mattered.
It didn’t matter how hard I tried to be above it or how hard I tried to have the thickest skin, it all mattered.
And as the clanking of my new husband’s belt buckle rang in my ears, I knew that no matter what size box I put this moment into right now, it would not be one I could keep hidden away.
His body moved over mine, climbing up over me.
My pulse pounded in my chest so loudly, I was sure he could hear it, too. He was right there, above me. His thighs pushed my own wider.
He was thicker than I had thought, taking up space between my legs.
My heartbeat raced.
My breathing quickened.
Don’t show emotion. Don’t show them anything.
Don’t show emotion. Don’t show them anything.
It was impossible.
I felt like I was going to hyperventilate.
My eyes flitted around the room, trying to find something to stay focused on. The ceiling was no longer an option as Bartholomew’s face was right there, above me.
