[Ener]

Or Forever Hold your Peace

Hailey vs Michelle

Michelle stepped out of the car into a perfect summer morning, the sky a flawless sweep of pale blue without a single cloud. Birds trilled in the distance as she moved to the boot, lifting out a black hard case, the sun catching on its worn metal edges.
“Thanks for bringing me along, Marcus,” she said lightly while her companion hoisted a slightly larger case and clicked the boot shut.
“Don’t mention it,” he started, hesitating  “But—”
“I can handle this,” she cut him off sharply before he could finish.
They set off up the winding church path together. “The wedding of Hailey Moore and Joshua Miller,” announced a sign near the entrance, momentarily freezing Michelle mid-step.

It was supposed to be quick — a final talk, a clean break.
They sat in her car outside his flat, summer sweat clinging to their skin even with the AC sputtering weakly.
Michelle leaned in, fingers drifting along his jawline. “So… this is it?” Her voice was calm on the surface, but brittle beneath.
He swallowed hard. “I can’t keep doing this. I love her. We’re done. For real this time.”
A flicker of something passed through her eyes — regret, disbelief, or something deeper. Then her nails curled into his shirt collar, yanking him close.
“You love her? You think she’ll touch you like I do? You think she’ll know you like I do?”
She crushed her lips to his, hard and hungry, biting at the edges — a final, vicious claim. He kissed her back at first, hesitant, confused… before pushing her away firmly.
“We’re done,” he repeated, softer now. But final.
She watched him get out and shut the door behind him, her reflection in the windscreen left alone, trembling.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Marcus’s voice sliced through the memory, his hand warm and grounding on her shoulder.
Michelle blinked, then turned to him with a small, brittle smile. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Just keep the camera rolling.”
He nodded, moving off toward a middle-aged couple standing near the church entrance.
“Is she going to be alright?” she heard the woman ask, more concerned with decorum than Michelle’s feelings.
“My assistant’s… nursing a broken heart,” Marcus reassured them smoothly. “But she promised she can handle it.”
Michelle called out, “I’ll go prep the upstairs angle,” and, still gripping the heavy case, pushed open the narrow wooden door to the choir loft staircase.
The stone steps spiralled sharply upward, each footfall echoing in the hollow shaft like a muted drumbeat. She paused at the top, resting her palm against the cool wall — not out of exertion, but to savour the electric thrill curling up her spine.
Setting down the hard case, she knelt to unfasten the latches with slow precision. The lid swung open to reveal a pale pool of silk, carefully folded beneath layers of protective wrap.
Michelle straightened her spine, tilting her head slightly as though greeting a lover. Her distorted reflection flickered in a cracked mirror nearby — warped, spectral.
She began to peel away her borrowed “assistant” uniform, each movement deliberate, almost reverent. Off came the simple blouse and slacks, folded and laid aside neatly. Her skin rose in goosebumps against the tower’s cool air, anticipation buzzing just beneath the surface.
She slipped into the gown, guiding it up her legs in one fluid, practiced motion. The fabric caressed her thighs, the high slit opening to reveal the long line of her hip. She tugged the halter clasp tight at her neck, leaving her back exposed all the way to the small of her spine.
Turning, she admired the deep plunge of the neckline, where she could almost see her pulse fluttering.
A faint, joyless smile tugged at her lips — not warmth, not satisfaction. Something darker.
She swept her hair back, tracing her jawline with graceful fingers before lifting a tube of lipstick from the case. Crimson — sharp, rich, violent. She painted her lips slowly, precisely, pressing them together with a quiet finality.
A last adjustment to the slit. A delicate tug at the beaded detail on her hip.
Michelle inhaled deeply, savouring the heady weight of her transformation.
She picked up a shimmering clutch and hooked it onto her wrist — a final accessory for her impending descent.
Gathering her skirts, she stepped toward the stairs, moving with a queenly, coiled composure. Each step downward was deliberate, every footfall a silent drumbeat announcing a storm yet unseen.
She vanished into the deepening shadows below.

Continued in part 2

[Ener]

Part 2

The double doors creaked open behind them, and the first swelling tones of the organ soared through the sanctuary. Hailey stepped forward from the vestibule on her father’s arm, her floor-length snow-white gown catching every glimmer of morning light.
The strapless bodice curved gently into a sweetheart neckline, her collarbones gleaming like porcelain under the chandeliers. The empire waistline cinched just so, giving her a statuesque grace that seemed to make her float rather than walk.
She barely registered the rows of friends and family rising from their pews. Her gaze locked on Joshua waiting near the altar, shifting nervously from foot to foot, his eyes wide with that sweet, overwhelmed devotion she had waited her whole life to see.
The pastor’s voice echoed warmly.
 “Good morning. We are gathered here today to witness the joining of two hearts, to celebrate their love, and to share in their joy as they become husband and wife before man and before God.”
Hailey felt her chest rise with a shaky, ecstatic breath.
“Now,” the pastor continued, turning slightly, “before we proceed, if anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
He hadn’t even finished the sentence when the double doors slammed open.
Michelle stood framed in the doorway, floor-length alabaster gown clinging to every curve like a painted-on sin, high slit revealing each predatory step as she stalked forward.
Of course it was her.
Hailey’s breath snapped out of her lungs, a sharp hot pressure bloomed behind her eyes, growing with every step Michelle took down the aisle. Her heart slammed against her ribs, she couldn't hear whatever excuse the honey blonde interloper was offering - blood was roaring in her ears, pounding so hard it blurred the edges of her vision.
Then a sudden rush of memory smashed into her:

Two years ago. Their anniversary dinner. Rooftop bar, candles flickering, a lone violin. Joshua’s hand warm over hers. She was laughing.
Then she saw her. Michelle — shimmering black dress, hair twisted up like she owned the skyline. Eyes locked on them, sharp and possessive.
Joshua’s face drained of colour.
Michelle glided to a nearby table, ordered a drink, and sat alone. Every few seconds, her smirk sliced toward them. Hailey’s laughter turned brittle, faltering into silence.
When Michelle finally stood and drifted past their table, her fingers trailed across Joshua’s shoulder — just a flicker of touch. But it was enough. Hailey had felt the axis of her world tilt, felt something crack behind her ribs.

The sanctuary slammed back into focus. Michelle’s smile. That gown. That same triumphant gleam in her eyes.
Hailey was already halfway down the aisle before she even realized she’d moved.
She was going to kill her. Right here, in front of God, the pastor, and every horrified guest.

Continued in part 3

[Ener]

Part 3

“Oomph!” Michelle wheezed as Hailey drove her shoulder into the wedding crasher’s midsection, lifting her clean off the ground. A cluster of Hailey’s cousins shrieked and scattered as the two women crashed into a wooden pew, sending handbags and hymnals clattering to the floor in a rain of chaos.
Hailey snarled, her fingers clawing into Michelle’s honey-blonde hair, jerking her head back over the pew’s polished wooden backrest. “You see this?” she spat, thrusting her left hand up — the engagement ring gleamed under the church lights, a gold band studded with an emerald that caught every eye. “He gave this to me.”
Before Michelle could react, Hailey whipped her free hand across the bride’s face with a backhanded slap that cracked like a gunshot. Michelle’s head snapped sideways, a spray of blood arcing through the air as the emerald split her lower lip.
Hailey leaned in, her voice low and venomous. “Time to get that through your thick skull.”
Michelle fumbled along the pew’s seat with her right hand, her left curling into a claw as she swiped for Hailey’s face — but the auburn-haired bride smacked it away with a sharp crack. Snarling, Hailey balled her own left fist and drove it straight into Michelle’s already-split lip, reopening the wound and sending a fresh gush of blood down the blonde’s chin.
As Hailey reared back for another swing, Michelle’s fingers brushed against a leather-bound book — a hymnal. Instinct overrode thought: she snatched it up and whipped the spine across Hailey’s cheekbone. The impact rang out like a slap against marble, and a crimson bruise blossomed almost instantly.
Hailey staggered back with a sharp yelp, her right hand still knotted tight in Michelle’s honey-blonde hair. She yanked her rival upright by the roots, blood dripping down Michelle’s chin and splattering onto her alabaster gown in lurid red streaks.
Gasping, Michelle slammed the corner of the hymnal into Hailey’s stomach, doubling her over with a wheeze and finally breaking that iron grip.
Michelle swung the hymnal from her hip in a brutal upward arc — like she was shovelling gravel straight into Hailey’s face. It connected with a dull, meaty crunch that echoed off the high ceilings.
Hailey jolted upright, her head snapping back as she staggered out into the aisle. One hand flew to her nose; blood oozed between her fingers, dripping into her cleavage and streaking down the pristine snow-white bodice of her gown in thin, obscene rivulets.
“Was this the fairytale you had planned, princess?” Michelle sneered, her voice sharp and gleeful as she casually tossed the hymnal back onto the pew. In one fluid motion, she snatched up her clutch, her fingers curling possessively around it like a dagger’s hilt.
She stalked forward into the aisle, swinging her arm back to deliver a vicious swipe — but Hailey stumbled out of range at the last second. The clutch slipped from Michelle’s grasp, its sequins glittering under the nave’s lights as it sailed through the air in a shimmering arc.
It crashed into a tall flower vase perched on the altar rail. Water, lilies, and shards of porcelain exploded across the chancel in a spectacular spray, petals scattering like wounded doves.
As the clutch soared through the air, Hailey seized the opening and lunged. Her right hand swung back, ready to strike, while her left hand shot forward and grabbed a fistful of the blonde’s bodice to yank her in close.
But instead of pulling Michelle into the blow, there was a sharp, traitorous snap. The halter strap gave way, and the alabaster silk gown collapsed like a fallen curtain, pooling around Michelle’s feet in a shimmering heap.
Michelle let out a strangled gasp, her eyes going wide as she instinctively threw one arm across her chest to shield her now-exposed breasts.
Hailey didn’t hesitate. She seized Michelle’s guarding arm, her manicured nails digging cruelly into the tender flesh of her rival’s forearm and leaving angry red welts in their wake. With a savage twist, she flung the arm aside, fully baring Michelle’s breasts — just in time for Hailey’s knuckles to come crashing into the left one with a fleshy, punishing smack.
Michelle yelped as her breast flattened against her ribs, a sharp, guttural sound tearing from her throat. Abandoning any thought of covering up, she swung back with a savage right hook. Her fist slammed into Hailey’s cheekbone — the same spot already bruised by the hymnal — snapping the bride’s head violently to the side with a sharp crack.
Sensing an opening, Michelle pressed forward, but her heel slipped on the stone floor. Instinctively, she clawed at Hailey’s skirt to steady herself.
Already loosened by sweat and struggle, the gown’s grip gave way with a wet, traitorous shhhht. The snow-white bodice slid, then collapsed completely, pooling at Hailey’s feet.
For one stunned moment, both women froze — now stripped down to nothing but their heels and panties, skin flushed, hair wild, eyes blazing.
Hailey stepped defiantly out of the wreckage of her gown, fists up, her teardrop shaped breasts rising and falling with each furious breath. Michelle scrambled upright, muscles coiled, ready to meet her.
From the side of the aisle — among the groom’s shocked relatives — a loud, collective gasp rang out. The young ring bearer sat wide-eyed, mouth hanging open in pure, scandalized wonder, as he watched the two topless women trade savage blows.
“Don’t you dare look, Benjamin!” a middle-aged woman hissed, slapping a hand over his eyes. But the image — sweaty, furious, unstoppable — was already seared into his memory.

Continued in part 4

[Ener]

Part 4

Michelle landed an uppercut to the stomach of her adversary, causing the brunette to stagger back with a sharp gasp. The blonde followed up with a hard shove that sent the bride crashing into the baptismal font. Hailey groaned as her back slammed against the cold stone, a deep red bruise blooming instantly across the small of her back. Still, as Michelle charged in, Hailey slipped aside at the last moment, causing the blonde to fold over the font with a wheezing cough as the unforgiving rim bit into her belly.
“You never knew when to give up,” Hailey spat, grabbing two fistfuls of honey-blonde hair and wrenching Michelle’s cheek down against the bottom of the basin.

A dark bedroom. Hailey sat on the edge of the bed, hands clenching her phone so hard her knuckles went white.
“New post by @ThatBitchIsBack: Guess you can’t trust ANYONE these days. Funny how some ‘angels’ build their fairy tales on stolen hearts.  #Homewrecker #Liar #Receipts.”
Below, blurry photos — her out with male coworkers, twisted to look damning. A cropped screenshot of a text, context deliberately erased.
Her nostrils flared, jaw trembling.
“Fake,” she snarled to herself. “All of it — fake.”
Comments piled up like rotting garbage: “Wow, what a snake!” “Trash!” “She deserves whatever’s coming.”
A feral sound tore from her throat, somewhere between a sob and a growl. She flung the phone at the wall, watching it clatter and bounce across the floor.
Chest heaving, she stormed to the mirror, catching her own furious reflection. Eyes red, but sharp. Teeth bared.

“Did you really think posting those lies online would make him come running back to you?” Hailey snarled, arms trembling from exertion as she ground Michelle’s cheek against the cold stone, scraping skin with each vicious shove.
Michelle grabbed the edges of the basin, muscles screaming, arms quivering with effort. With a wordless, feral roar, she heaved herself upright, forcing Hailey’s grip to break as she stumbled back. But the bride wasn’t finished — snarling, she used her hold on Michelle’s honey-blonde hair to swing her around and slam her into the nearest pew. Wood splintered, and guests shrieked as the groom’s ex-girlfriend crashed backward into the seat, scattering petals and hymnals across the aisle.
Determined to keep the momentum, Hailey lunged — but Michelle’s fist snapped up like a snake, catching her clean across the eye with a sickening smack. The bride reeled, a thin shriek tearing from her throat, as stars exploded behind her eyes.
Michelle scrambled to her feet, chest heaving, lips split and dripping crimson down her chin. Both women’s punches came slower now, wild and ragged, each breath a ragged scrape.
Hailey’s howl split the air as Michelle lashed out with a vicious low kick, her stiletto heel slicing a shallow gash across the bride’s shin. Blood welled instantly, running in thin, stark rivulets down Hailey’s bare leg.

The bride stumbled, her own heel catching awkwardly on the slick floor. With a sharp crack, the heel snapped clean off, sending her crashing onto her side with a bruising thud.
Michelle paused, then almost frantically knelt to unstrap and fling away her own stilettos. Before Hailey could scramble upright, Michelle seized two fistfuls of auburn hair, dragging her rival bodily across the floor toward the pulpit like a hunter hauling prey.

Michelle sat alone in her darkened apartment, wine bottles littering the floor like fallen soldiers. Crumpled photos — ski trips, birthday hangovers, that New Year’s kiss that left them breathless until dawn — lay in a shredded halo around her.
On her phone screen: the wedding announcement.
 His face, beaming. Hailey radiant beside him.
“She’ll never love him like I did.” Her voice came out low, trembling with venom.
Her fingers curled tight around the phone until the plastic creaked, then she hurled it across the room. The screen cracked on impact, shards bouncing across the floor.
Breathing ragged, she snatched up an old photo of them — a cheap print from a photo booth. She stared for a moment, eyes wide, then tore it into confetti-like shreds, giggling as the scraps drifted down like snow.
She sat back, chest heaving, head tilted as if listening to some private melody only she could hear. A slow, twisted smile curled across her lips.
I’ll make sure they remember me forever.

Michelle dragged her rival up the short stairway to the pulpit, forcing Hailey against the carved wooden wall, facing the stunned wedding guests. The blonde yanked back on her rival’s hair, her other hand driving knuckles into the deep purple bruise blossoming across the small of Hailey’s back.
"Say you give him up! Tell them you were never enough for him!" Michelle shrieked, her eyes wild, spittle flying.
"Never, you delusional bitch!" Hailey snarled, voice ragged but defiant.
With a snarl, Michelle released her grip on Hailey’s hair and instead reached around with both arms, her manicured nails sinking deep into the soft flesh of Hailey’s breasts.
"Last chance, pathetic slut — say you give him up!"
"Ne—vaaaarrrgggh!" The bride’s scream tore through the church, her face twisted in a storm of rage and pain. Tears welled in her eyes as Michelle’s claws raked down, leaving eight thin, bloody trails that shone against her pale skin.
Seizing a final surge of adrenaline, Hailey shoved off the pulpit wall, her shoulder crashing into Michelle’s chest and sending the blonde toppling backward. Michelle’s arms pinwheeled uselessly as she tumbled down the stairs from the pulpit, crashing to the stone floor below with a bone-jarring thud.

Concluded in part 5

[Ener]

Part 5

Michelle shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs as she staggered upright — but Hailey was already descending the pulpit steps, a war cry tearing from her throat. She launched forward, arms wrapping around the blonde’s midsection, shoulder pancaking Michelle’s breast in a brutal tackle.
They crashed into the communion rail, toppling flower arrangements and knocking over the kneeling cushions in a clatter of petals and splintered wood. Together they tumbled over the rail and slammed into the chancel floor in a tangled heap.
Michelle groaned, breath knocked from her lungs, but instinct took over. Her fingers clawed into Hailey’s auburn hair, yanking her rival in close as she fought to roll them over. But Hailey snarled, twisted her head — and sank her teeth deep into the soft swell of Michelle’s breast.
A ragged, high-pitched shriek ripped from Michelle’s throat, echoing up into the vaulted ceiling.
Eyes squeezed shut, Michelle lashed out blindly, driving a vicious fist into Hailey’s kidney. With a strangled gasp, Hailey’s jaws sprang open, blood and sweat mixing in her mouth as she fell back.
Michelle seized the moment. She twisted free, groaning as she rolled to her knees. Hailey mirrored her, forcing her battered body forward on all fours, her gaze locked on Michelle.
But Michelle turned sharply, eyes glittering. She lunged toward the altar, hand closing around the gleaming chalice.
Hailey surged after her, just as Michelle spun around, smashing the chalice into the side of her temple with a brutal, ringing crack.
The bride collapsed, a ragged moan escaping her as blood trickled down her jawline, spattering onto the sacred stone.
With ragged, shuddering breaths, Michelle rose to her feet. Her legs trembled beneath her as she dragged Hailey’s limp form into position — head tipped back toward the communion rail, feet pointed to the altar, as though she were an offering.
Pausing, Michelle hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them down her hips, stepping free with deliberate grace. She tossed them aside, every motion a silent declaration of triumph.
Then, eyes glinting, she lowered herself, inch by slow inch, until her slick, victorious womanhood pressed down onto Hailey’s battered, tear-streaked face.
Michelle braced one hand on the rail, the other fisted tight in the bride’s auburn hair. With a shudder, she began to grind, rolling her hips in cruel, mocking rhythm.
Beneath her, Hailey’s hands flew up, clawing desperately at Michelle’s thighs, but her weakened body betrayed her. Each thrash only fed Michelle’s pleasure.
Michelle’s head tipped back, her lips parting in a ragged moan — almost ecstatic.
“Drink it up,” she panted, her voice a venom-laced whisper. “I want you to remember this taste forever.”
With a final, deep thrust, she came — triumphant & shivering — her victory juices* flooding Hailey’s mouth, smearing across her defeated features.
Catching her breath, Michelle released her rival’s hair, reaching for her clutch that had landed nearby. She rummaged, found her phone, and with a savage gleam in her eyes, lifted it high above her head.
The camera snapped — capturing her in all her wicked glory, Hailey’s humiliated face peeking out beneath her.
With that final memento secured, Michelle rose. She stepped over the communion rail, hips swaying, completely unbothered by her nakedness.
Halfway down the aisle, she paused beside the stunned photographer. With a cool smile, she pressed a wad of cash into his palm.
“Send me a copy,” she murmured, winking before turning and blowing Joshua a kiss.

*) the term victory juice was coined by Diba on DeviantArt

[Ener]

What do I mean by AI enhanced ?

Simply put, when I tag this as I enhanced it means that while I wrote the full first draft I have had an AI (or large language model) polish it,
I do this mostly because English is a second language to me, and having a language model giving it that final polish elevates the story a little - at least in my mind