“We. Aren’t. Useless.” I repeat it to myself as much as her, because on the outside, with Dario heaping praise and competency on me, it was an easy truth to accept. Here, inside the Colonia, with the walls closing in, the old lies assert themselves.

“I know, I know. Look!” She pulls the skirt of the dress, splaying the fabric flat. “It’s good as new!” She drops the skirt and takes the hook off the molding. “Try it on. I can’t wait to see you in it.”

I can’t either, but for different reasons. I can’t wait because, with every second that passes, my road gets narrower.

When I lift my arm to take the hanger, the towel falls off.

Naked is one step closer to a nightmare.

Stepping into the gown, I see a brown spot of blood inside the skirt’s folds. All our wedding gowns wind up soiled from the cutting. The woman and what she wears never leave the ceremony as pure as they enter.

I let Denise help me into the dress. I let her natter about where it was loose on her and how well I fill it out. She struggles to button the back around the waist.

“You’re back to Colonia food.”

In fact, I’m barely eating at all. She must have been thinner than we remember.

“The hem could use a few stitches here and there,” she says. “Breathe out and hold.”

I exhale and tighten my belly. She gets another button closed.

“Amara’s going to get your hair into shape. She’ll be here in a few minutes. Suck in. Ah! Got it!” Denise quickly does the buttons at my neck, steps back, and claps her hands. “You look perfect.”

She takes me by the shoulders and turns me toward the mirror, but I close my eyes so I don’t have to see myself.

“No.”

There’s no beauty in this day. I can tolerate it. I can get through it. But I don’t have to enjoy a single thing about it, and if the sight of me is going to give Sergio a moment of pleasure, I don’t have to join him. The beauty of this body will never belong to him, and I won’t look at it while he thinks he owns it. The last memory I have of a man feasting on my nakedness will be Dario.

“Seriously, Sarah?”

“I’m fine. I just can’t. Please. Don’t make me look.”

The tittering of happy women’s voices comes through the door.

“They’re here!” Denise flings open the bedroom door, letting in a world of cheerfulness that I cannot access.

I need to hope. Without it, I may as well be dead.