A Sham Marriage

Cold tape was stuck over my mouth, and the coarse rope around my wrists bit into my skin, burning with pain. Me and my parents were thrown into the corner of an abandoned warehouse; the smell of rust mixed with dust was choking and unbearable. "Don't scream. Stay still, and you'll live." The kidnapper kicked Dad's leg, his voice rough like sandpaper scraping. Dad straightened his neck. "Whatever money you want, I'll give it." "The money can wait—we're waiting for someone." The kidnapper stared at the door, the knife in his hand glinting coldly in the dim light. My mind's racing with Bruce Shaw—he promised he'd always protect me. My phone in my pocket suddenly buzzed. It was him calling. The kidnapper hesitated for a moment before ripping the tape off my mouth. "Bruce, help me!" My voice was shaking, barely holding it together. "Sarah? Where are you?" Bruce's voice was full of urgency. "I don't know, it's this abandoned warehouse..." Before I could finish, a woman's sobbing came through on his end. "Bruce, it hurts so bad. Can you get me to a hospital?" It was Melody Scott, the hidden light locked in his heart. "Sarah, Melody's got acute appendicitis. I've got to check on her first." Bruce Shaw's voice grew hesitant. "Don't panic, I'll get someone over right away." "Don't hang up! Bruce, don't hang up!" I yelled. The call was mercilessly cut off, the busy signal stabbing my ears like needles. The kidnapper cursed and taped my mouth shut again. Dad's face went pale. "He's not coming, is he?" Mom gripped my hand tight; her palm was soaked with cold sweat. Second by second passed, but the warehouse door never budged. "Boss, the call's not going through. That kid's not playing us, is he?" The tall, skinny kidnapper asked. The man they called the boss darkened: "No money, no hostages." A flash of a knife lit up the air, Mom's scream tearing through the silence. I fought like hell but could only watch my parents fall into a pool of blood. Before I blacked out, I thought I saw Bruce Shaw gently covering Melody Scott with a blanket. I woke up again in the hospital— the sharp sting of disinfectant making me want to puke. "Where are my parents?" I grabbed the nurse's arm, pressing her for answers. The nurse turned away, softly shaking her head. "My condolences." My whole world collapsed in an instant—I shook uncontrollably, couldn't bear the sight of red or the sound of the phone ringing. The doctor said I have severe PTSD and major depression. Bruce Shaw came to see me once and got hit in the forehead by the cup I threw. "Sarah, I'm sorry." He covered his head, eyes darting away. "Get lost." My voice was hoarse, like it was squeezed right out of my throat. After that, Bruce Shaw never showed up again, but his cousin Caleb Lewis kept coming to visit me at the hospital. "I brought you some porridge." Caleb set the thermos down on the bedside table, his voice gentle. I turned my face away, not wanting to say a word. "I know it's tough, but you have to keep going." He didn't push me, just quietly sat by my side. Rehab took two years, and Caleb came almost every single day during that time. Being able to speak again, being able to look at red without flinching—it was all thanks to him. The day I left the hospital, Caleb was waiting at the entrance with a bouquet of white roses. "Sarah Lynn," he said, handing me the flowers, his eyes serious, "I've liked you for a long time. Will you marry me?" I looked at him and suddenly remembered how my parents used to always tell me to find someone reliable. "You don't mind me, do you?" I asked. "Disgusted about?" He smiled, "I'm just feeling sorry for you." I nodded, tears falling onto the petals of the white rose. Three months later, we got married. The wedding was simple, just a few close friends. Bruce Shaw didn't come; I heard he and Melody Scott went abroad. I touched the ring on my ring finger, telling myself it was time to close that chapter.