“Yes!” the masked figure cried, removing her mask.
“You thought I’d miss my own wedding?” she grinned, staring at the frightened guests. “If anybody moves, I’ll shoot—” her voice echoed through. Her gun was pointed at them as she acted in a way to look as though she was going to shoot.
“Arabel—” Stanley made to help his bride.
“If you dare—” Helga’s threat-giving eyes stopped him. “You think I’d let you off just like that, hm?” she continued, aiming the gun at him.
“You really are a monster!” Stanley said.
“Me?” Helga wore a coy look. “Wait. You’re really not talking to me, are you?” she gave a maniacal laugh. “My! You really look all clean in that tux.” She diverted, cutting an eye for him, as he groaned.
“And to think I saw you as someone good,”
“Oh, I was good…” She corrected. “…then you broke me heart.” she said with a pout.
Laughing again, she brought the mouth of her gun close to Stanley’s chest.
“Helga, please—” Stanley begged.
“You deserve to cry them tears, Vilton.” she dug a bullet into his skin, letting out a loud yell.
Watching him fall to the floor, she shook as though getting herself, looking at the gun in her hand, then at the people, as she aimed at her head, letting the bullet bury freely in her skull.
MY NAME IS JESSICA DURU. Horror writer romance… you know it 😉