TGH * The Witness Ch. 1
Prologue—Road to Somewhere
Running uphill was the hard part. Downhill wasn’t so bad, except for the fact that she kept on sliding on the dewy grass and having to catch herself all the while making sure she didn’t trip over the yards of tulle surrounding her. By the time she conquered the blasted hill, she just had a few more yards to go before she would be on normal, regular ground. The kind of ground that wasn’t manicured or marble, the type that was rough, uneven and deliciously commonplace.
She stopped in her tracks when she saw the seemingly empty road up ahead. Her throat dry and her breaths uneven, she hiked up her many skirts and made a run for it. When her shoe hit gravel, she turned around and searched desperately for anyone following her. Happy to see that they hadn’t caught onto her yet, she watched as a green Volkswagen zipped by passed her. Sighing, she ran alongside of the road, needing to put as much distance between the gathering and herself as possible. After a moment, she realized that she was on the wrong side of the road. If anyone stopped for her, they’d take her back in the direction she had come from.
Sighing again, she looked both ways carefully before sprinting to the other side of the road. Then she heard it, the roar of an approaching motorcycle. Well, it wasn’t her first choice, but beggars couldn’t very well be choosers, now could they?
She awkwardly stuck out her thumb, feeling utterly ridiculous in her get up. It was slightly embarrassing, she thought, as the biker came closer and closer. The bike didn’t show any signs of slowing down and she started walking again. A part of her was almost glad when it passed her. She didn’t really want to be on the back of a bike in her getup anyhow. Her head down, she kicked a few pebbles out of her way.
It was then she noticed something strange. The bike was no longer roaring, it was purring. Also, it hadn’t passed her. It was in front of her and the rider’s helmeted head was turning to face her.
She ran up to the stranger, her veil bundled up in her arms. What did one say to someone with whom they were getting a ride with?
He looked at her, starting at the top of her jeweled head to the tips of her black shoes. Gia let the skirt fall to cover the boots she wore. She hadn’t been able to find her wedding heels. That should have tipped her off right away…
“Where’s the wedding?” was all he said.
Gia jerked a thumb behind her, unable to say a word.
“I’m going that way,” he gestured to the broad landscape ahead of them.
“Good.” Gia hiked up her skirts, showing her knee high boots in all their glory. She hefted one slim leg over the bike, dropping the layers of her wedding gown around her in a white cloud.
He lifted one brow behind his helmet. He had seen her a mile away, the white of her gown had practically glowed against the concrete and green backdrop. The only thing that had thrown him for a loop was her black shoes. What kind of bride wore boots?
He hadn’t intended on stopping. He was just trying to get the hell out of here, he didn’t have time to stop and guide a wayward bride. But then he’d seen the look on her face: the desperate need to get away. The one he recognized every time he looked in the mirror. So he’d stopped and now he had a woman who was bailing on her would-be husband on the back of his bike.
“Where *are* you headed?” He asked, not bothering to turn around.
“Anywhere but here.”
He could agree with that.
Three seconds later they were doing eighty on the road. Gia loosened the white headdress that was clipped to the bun of her intricate hairstyle. Letting the yards of tulle fly get caught in the wind, she let go, turning to watch the white material float away until she could see it no longer.
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