Dead Girls Like Me

Victor grimaces. Oh, this is going to be fun. "Yes, an arranged f-fiancee," he confirms. "And I s-suppose we've b-been engaged for o-over a m-month, but I've r-really only k-known her for an a-afternoon." Before Alice can ask anything else, he holds up one hand, his other pulling at his tie. "L-let me explain. My parents informed me of the m-match back in December, but I d-didn't meet Miss Everglot until the d-day of the rehearsal in J-January. She s-seemed nice enough -- I f-felt better about m-m-m-marriage after s-seeing her. But it w-wasn't enough to stop m-me from being terribly n-nervous through the rehearsal. P-Pastor Galswells finally b-became fed up with my f-failures and sent me a-away to learn my v-vows properly." He hesitates, then decides to plunge on. He may as well tell her everything now. "I f-fled into the w-woods to practice, and after s-some time, finally m-managed to say them right. I even p-put the ring on what I t-thought was a hand-like branch." He swallows. "It -- it was actually a h-hand. A c-corpse b-bride rose from her grave to accept my 'p-proposal.' I panicked and r-ran, she followed, I r-reached the bridge -- and that's when the R-Rift got me. So, you see, I have q-quite the situation w-waiting for me when I return h-home." If I return home, he adds in his mind, though it seems shameful to admit he doesn't particularly want to go back, brides or no brides.