Second Chance to Save the Bride

Summary

On the day my brother married Laurel, I was five years old, running wild in the front yard with the other neighborhood kids.

By the time I wandered upstairs, a suffocating chill had settled over the second floor. The guests standing in the hallway wore strained, evasive expressions. Inside the bridal suite, Laurel sat wedged into the farthest corner, swallowed whole by a thick comforter, her face completely drained of color.

There was no ceremony that afternoon.

After we took her home, Laurel locked herself in her room day after day, running the bath over and over until the pipes groaned…