It was a stormy evening in the huge memorial park of Noirewood and the dark, night sky is filled with roaring thunder.
My 40-year old, self-made millionaire husband, Vernon, and I decided to spend the night in the refuge of our black-colored Sedan.
"Melissa, get the umbrella on the back of the trunk," said my abusive and authoritarian husband. I hurriedly opened the front door of the car as I rushed to the trunk of our Sedan. The rain pouring heavily on me and all I think about is to avoid being beaten up again by Vernon.
As soon I got back to the front seat of our car, Vernon grabbed me by the hair and put his tongue inside my mouth.
Kissing and groping my wet body while uttering to me the words, "You give in to what I want and you won't get hurt, Melissa."
My hands are shaking in fear and tears are falling from my eyes as my tyrannical husband feasts on my body and takes advantage of my helplessness and youth.
The rain poured heavier and heavier as Vernon put out his Kodak 1960's camera and looked to take a photo of his disgusting and malicious act towards my body.
As I desperately grabbed for the car door, I noticed that it was unnoticedly left open.
I shakingly grabbed the pen in Vernon's pocket and hit him on his neck with the tip of it.
My abusive fiance screamed in pain as I ran for my life. All I can think about at that time is this is finally it, a chance for me to escape my forced marriage with a man who does not in any way love me but only see me as a woman-slave and a personal sex object.
The storm rages more and more as I aimlessly run all throughout the huge, eerie memorial park.
Suddenly, all the running and panicking started to take its toll on me as I started to lose control of my body and pass out.
THE MORNING AFTER.
The heavy, torrential storm has stopped and I found myself with wet and ripped clothes but still inside the seemingly-endless, huge cemetery/park.
Then suddenly, a young man staring at my almost-naked body is standing right beside me. I screamed and said, "Help! help! A pervert is attacking me".
"Wait, you don't understand," said the pervert yet a goofy-looking young man.
"I'm not a pervert."
"If not, why are you staring at me like that?", I exclaimed.
"I just want to know why you are here. In the middle of nowhere, a lifeless cemetery,
where the souls of the damned and the forgotten lies".
"What is this creepy man talking about," I said to myself.
"This is the Forsencot Cemetery, A memorial park in the suburban village of Noirewood," said the mysterious man. "As you can see, only a few lives here in Forsencot as seven years ago, the village has been destroyed and its inhabitants had been burned at stake."
"But what happened to Noirewood?", I curiously asked.
"This place has been plagued by a brain-crushing chemical outbreak brought upon by the abuse of Bioday".
"Bioday, did you say Bioday, the multimillion chemical company owned by Vernon Mossimo?"
"Yes. that's the company," exclaimed the mysterious man.
"What about it, do you happen to know Vernon?"
"N-no. I don't know Vernon," I replied.
I don't know why but I started to have this unexplainable feeling of trust and warmth towards the mysterious man.
The mysterious man, well, how can I describe him?
Well, he wears a gothic black shirt with a dark-colored sweater on top. His hair is that of My Chemical Romance's vocal lead. The one who sings, "Welcome to the Black Parade".
Yes, you got it right, the favorite song of the youngsters from a decade ago.
For an unknown yet pleasurable reason, I began to open up to him about my life as Melissa Hopedale, an aspiring actress who was forced by my poverty-stricken parents to marry a rich yet selfish and authoritarian self-made millionaire.
In the mysterious man, I feel that I have finally met a man that I can trust and someone who I can be not afraid of being myself with.
I asked the man what his name is but all I receive back is a sound of silence.
Even though he would not tell me his name, who he is, or where did he come from.
For the first time in my life, there is someone who never gets tired of listening to my stories, pains, and my dreams for the future.
Time just flew like the colorful butterflies in the beautiful gardens of Serenity Park, the most (and the only) beautiful spot in the whole cemetery.
The sunset came and he grabbed me by the arm with lots of gentleness and warmth.
It was a touch unlike any other as we watched the beautiful setting of the sun.
The stars appeared one by one, just like the way that the mysterious man brought brightness to the seemingly endless night, that is my life.
He touched my hands and stared right into my eyes. He then kissed me on my lips with lots of gentleness and sincere affection. We shared the night together in the most and only beautiful spot in a place that is supposed to be barren with beauty and warmth.
THE NEXT MORNING.
The sun rises and I find an unexpected sanctuary in the arms of a man who I just met for a day.
It was a feeling I never felt before in my abusive fiance, even in the seven years of our forced relationship together.
The unnamed man had written me poems of hope and love, sonnets of warmth and affection.
The night came and we shared a meal together, a pasta and chicken schnitzel that had been cooked by him in the garden kitchen on the Serenity Park.
We then watched the splendid sight of the meteors showering in the night sky.
I then asked him, "What is your name?", "Who are you?", and "Where are you from?"
He said to me, my name is Hope and all I know is I want to see you smile and be happy again.
Tears start to fall from my eyes, as I exclaim to Hope, "But why? Why me, Why do you want to see me smile and be happy?"
Because I LOVE YOU and YOU deserve to be happy, Melissa.
The trees, fountains, and all the birds in the beautiful Serenity Park disappear one by one.
All that is left is the darkness and emptiness of the Noirewood Cemetery.
<Electrical machine sounds>
"It's working," said a familiar voice.
"She's waking up, Austin," said another voice.
<I slowly open my eyes and I see my handsome, rockstar-looking, adopted grandson>
"You're finally back, Grandma," exclaimed Austin, my 26-year old aspiring musician of an adopted grandson.
The Psychiatrist then said, "the Electro-convulsive therapy seemed to have worked successfully on your grandma, Austin.
The Schizophrenia that has been caused by all the trauma from all of the physical and emotional abuse done to her by her estranged husband seems to finally become cured".
"Though, Austin, you must remember that constant guidance and emotional support must still be given to your 82-year old grandma as Schizophrenia is a mental condition that can and will go back if left unattended to".
After months of therapy, my adopted grandson and I finally shared a sumptuous dinner together, a delicious Bolognese Spaghetti and a fine dish of Schnitzel drizzled with Garlic and Onion gravy.
Austin then said to me, " I love you grandma and I always want you to be happy the way that you have given me hope from my depression years ago".
Tears start to fall into my eyes as I say to him, "I love you too, my grandson, I love you, Austin."