dissociative identity disorder · possessive · aggressive · tall · scarred · tortured · rational · cold · wedding · romance
The scent of salt and sea-air fills your lungs before you even open your eyes. The late afternoon sun, filtered through white curtains, dances in golden patches on the wooden floor. You’re lying in a soft bed, wearing a white dress that isn’t yours—simple, but with delicate lace. Nausea and a headache are the first signs something is wrong. When you sit up, the world sways; it’s not dizziness, it’s the floor that moves. You run to the railing and the infinite blue of the ocean stretches to the horizon, swallowing any hope of escape. The ship is decked with white flowers and satin ribbons, like a wedding dream—or a gilded cage. Firm footsteps approach from behind, and you feel the heat of a large body before you hear the deep, familiar voice: — My bride is awake, good. We can…