The guests had grown agitated, waiting impatiently, perched uncomfortably on the hard cedar pews. Confused whispers thickened the air inside the sanctuary. The priest fixed his concerned stare on Owen, who had begun to pace, tugging his collar anxiously. Owen glanced at his wristwatch and pulled his phone from his pocket — no missed calls and only twenty minutes had passed since he'd last checked. The bridesmaids began to complain of sore feet. The groomsmen did little to conceal their irritation. Some stood with their arms crossed, relaxing their posture. Others had removed their tuxedo jackets and folded them over their forearms.

The wedding photographer dared to suggest the unthinkable. "I hate to sound insensitive but perhaps she's jilted you."

Owen's glare was nearly lethal and soul-searing as he lunged ferociously without warning, grabbing the photographer's shirt, causing his camera to fall and shatter. "Then go! Leave! We'll marry without pictures!" Owen shoved him to the floor and proceeded to rant. "All of you restless people can go!" The crowd gasped, and some of them looked down as if they'd assumed the same thought as the photographer. "I don't care if it's only me and Jade here today. We don't need you people to sit here for sheer entertainment! If you don't want to be here for this union, then get up and get out! I won't run behind you or beg you to stay. It's about me and my bride. Only us!" His eyes had begun to water.

Trent stepped forward, grabbing hold of Owen's shoulder to restrain his tantrum. "Owen, calm down. Everything's going to be okay." Trent wasn't only the best man; he was Owen's dearest friend.

"Do you trust me when I say that it's going to be all right? Do you believe me?"

Owen's hands were shaking. "Something's wrong. I can't feel her."

Trent appeared confused. "What do you mean?"

"Jade. I can't feel her."

Trent's grip tightened. "You're not making sense. I need you to settle down. Can you do that? You're stirring everyone up."

Owen managed a whimper and a nod. "Yeah, everything's going to be all right. It's probably traffic. The town car is probably stuck in traffic." Trent's contact calmed the panic, but all reassurance faded the minute the giant double doors of the church flew open and the uniformed officials stepped inside with distressed faces. Everyone turned toward the blinding sunlight beaming inside. The whispers turned to louder mumbles as they walked down the aisle, trampling the petals scattered to grace Jade's feet. Trent released Owen's arm, and Owen stepped down from the platform to meet the police officers midway down the aisle.

"Are you Mr. Owen Knight?" an officer asked.

"Yes, I am. What's happening?" asked Owen, afraid of the answer.

"It's about your bride, Mr. Knight."

"Has something happened to Jade?

"We're afraid so. It's bad, real bad."

Owen turned back and locked eyes with Jade's father, who stood with the help of his walking stick. He clutched his heart, fearing the unthinkable. Owen turned back to the police. "Please tell me she's okay."

"We offer our condolences, Mr. Knight." The two officers bowed their heads and removed their hats.

"Condolences?" Owen gasped with an exhale that weakened his stance.

"We're truly sorry to deliver this kind of news on what should be a blessed day. We're going to need you to come down to the shore with us. A body washed up there in a wedding dress. There was also a purse with a Driver's license. We believe it may be Jade.

    The Aching

    I have a head full of voices.
    The cries grow louder and bolder.
    They ignite fear,
    As if the devil sits comfortably on my shoulder.

    Can you heal me?

    I have a fistful of promises,
    Both broken and unfulfilled.
    Come quick! My trust lies dying,
    Though its defiance is strong-willed.

    Can you heal me?

    I have a body full of flames,
    Enticed by flirtatious intent.
    Unquenchable fires consuming like thieves.
    No love lost, none found, no love spent.

    Can you heal me?

    I have a soul full of darkness,
    Nothing but scars to prove devotion.
    Worry and regret growing inside,
    Nourished by poisons, self-soothing potions.

    Can you heal me?

    I have dreams full of memories.
    They take my breath away.
    Though it may kill me,
    I'll stop breathing if it means that you'll stay.

    Can you heal me?

    I have a shadow marked with guilt,
    Haunting secrets, no good deeds.
    It forever follows, lying in wait,
    For my tears — and then it feeds.

    Can you heal me?

    Confusing crossroads, troubled beginnings.
    No endings in sight.
    Is there a remedy, perhaps a cure,
    To heal this wound we call life?

One week earlier ...

Jade sat at her desk with the latest issue of Bride Weekly in one hand and a stress relief ball grasped in the other. Blissful thoughts of wedding decor and fine dining soared through her mind as she awaited her next appointment. Abigail entered with a gentle tap on the door pane. "Dr. Temple, Mrs. Delmoore has arrived a half hour early ... again. Should I send her in or have her wait?"

Jade put away her bottled water and magazine. "It's all right. You can go ahead and send her in."

Maria Delmoore was a woman of tiny stature, soft-spoken and meek. It had been two months since Maria wandered in, teary-eyed and clinging to Jade's business card. She never said who'd told her to come, only that she needed help. Over that time, the two of them had become good friends. Maria had grown so comfortable that she removed her shoes for sessions, and sometimes Jade brushed her hair. It was customary for Maria to bring a treat, and that day was no different. "Dr. Temple, how nice to see you again. I brought Dutch apple pie today, your favorite," said Maria, smiling.

"How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Jade. You look lovely this afternoon. What a darling little dress you're wearing."

"Thank you. It's sort of new. I only wore it once. I hope you like your dessert; worked on it all day. I let the edges get a little crunchy, the way you like," said Maria, handing Jade the pie dish.

"How sweet of you. I'm sure it's going to be delicious. They always are." Jade looked behind Maria and hesitated before asking, "Where's Mr. Delmoore?"

Maria looked down at the floor, visibly disappointed. "He still refuses to come. He invented yet another lie to avoid participation."

Jade placed a compassionate hand on Maria's shoulder. "Well, maybe next time, but you and I can talk again. Why don't you have a seat and get comfy? You...