Secrets Are Untold Lies

She stood in front of the full-body mirror, occasionally turning to the right and to the left to get a better look at her backside. She was stunned, really, that she looked this beautiful. Her friends and family had done an amazing job helping her, especially with her hair and makeup. Her dark brown hair was straightened with a little outward curl at the end and her long bangs were simply curved across her forehead (and parts of her face) from the right side of her hairline to the middle of her left cheek. Her makeup, simple yet effective, was a light coating of foundation with a dab of blush on her cheeks. A little eyeliner and shadow, a fine coating of powder on the top, and she was ready.

Of course, it took much more than that to get her head beautified. There were endless small fights between her mother and her cousin about what should go on her face and how her hair should look (though personally she agreed with her cousin because her cousin was, after all, a cosmetician), she was almost choked to death with powder after her niece decided to dab the brush into the powder and then wave the brush around so it floated around the room in a suffocating wave, and she almost had some of her hair unwillingly hairsprayed to her cheek - though that was quickly remedied.

Glancing down her torso, she started fully admiring and appreciating the dress that now adorned her body. It was a lovely shade of off-white that she absolutely adored, and it accented her pale skin tone well. The dress itself ran to just below her knees, while there was about four inches of lace-like material hanging from the bottom that came to an inch above her ankles, allowing everyone to see her feet and shoes. The dress cinched around her waist, accentuating the curves of her body, and flared outward from that point down. It was a strapless dress, but since she was getting married in March and it was bound to be chilly outside, she had a cream-colored shawl on, though the sleeves came to about her elbows and there was a black ribbon on the front to tie it together. She was stunned that she pulled something together like this - with the help of her friends and family, of course - for her wedding day. She felt like a bit of a princess.

A rapt knocking broke the silence in the room, slightly startling the young woman in front of the mirror. "Jamia? Are you ready?" It was her mother, leaning up against the door with an ear pressed to it, listening intently.

She, Jamia, thought about her response instead of quickly muttering a, "Yeah, Mom," and walking to the door, like she normally would. No, this was last-minute decision time (though it really shouldn't have been because she was pretty much halfway done with this whole wedding thing and she couldn't leave now with 'cold feet' and walk out on her soon-to-be husband like that) and Jamia wasn't taking anything lightly.

Was she really ready to marry Frank? Seemingly, that much was obvious. They had been dating for the past five years and they had known each other for what seemed like and probably was forever, it was inevitable that they would be marrying shortly. Jamia really loved Frank, she loved him with all of her heart and soul. He was the one person who should know but didn't, and that was what scared her.

She had a secret, a terrible secret that she felt made her into a monster. A murdering, selfish, blood-soaked monster who would do anything and everything to keep the secret safely hidden. The only person who knew? Her mother - who unwittingly just asked Jamia a question without intending to have it come across Jamia with a double meaning. She felt horrible that she didn't tell Frank, the man who was the love of her life, the man that brightened her day, who was always there for her, who was her knight in shining armor. Sometimes literally, sometimes not.

But it wasn't something she should keep from him much longer. They were going to be husband and wife, for heaven's sake! Would Frank ever trust her again, after keeping it from him for so long? He was a very caring, compassionate, loving person, the best person in the world as far as Jamia was concerned. But would all of that change once he found out what Jamia was forced to do, how even though she hated every fiber in her being for doing it, she had to or else her life would have been drastically different? She wasn't ready for that huge weight on her shoulders at that point in her life, she just had to do it. Would Frank understand or be blinded by Jamia both keeping the secret from him for years and the fact that she was a monster? What if Frank decided that he didn't love Jamia anymore, and wanted a divorce (however unlikely)? That would break Jamia's heart, for sure. She didn't think she could bear life without Frank, her Frank, right by her side. Could she stay strong and try to win him back, or collapse into a pool of anger and melancholy?

Jamia visibly shook her head. She wasn't sure about any of this. It felt like she wasn't sure of anything anymore, the pressure of putting on a wedding both stressful and exciting. But Frank was always there to give her a smile and a kiss, to make her feel better even though she was freaking out about what color the tablecloths would be and what kind of flowers should be in her bouquet.

But it was too late to be thinking about all of this (again). It was her wedding day, she should be walking down the aisle, passing her friends and family and Frank's friends and family as her father held her arm tightly. She should be looking up through her veil, seeing a smiling-too-wide-for-his-face Frank nervously playing with his hands and standing by his best men. She'll just have to deal when the time comes.

"I'm ready, Mom," she said as she tightened her ballet flat shoes around her ankles - really, they were like ballet shoes, what with their ribbons lacing up around her calves and criss-crossing each other every so often - one last time. Slowly walking towards the door, she carefully opened it to see her grinning parents before being whisked outside by her father to begin the ceremonial walk down the aisle.