CHAPTER 2

POV: MELISA

It was midnight. It's been 3 years since I am still working the same thing day and night restless.I could barely hold myself up, trying to gather what little strength I had left from the long day. After school, I headed straight to work. Now here I am, cleaning up the last of the mess, managing orders from restless customers. It's exhausting, but I have no choice.

Everytime I go out and get ready for work or school I let my grandma finish her medicine and make sure she will eat and have food ready to serve. We have a microwave at least to help my grandma eat without me around. I am rushing to the bus stop getting the same routine heading to my work.

Do you know what it feels like to be so overwhelmed by work that it crushes you, day and night, like it's running through your veins? I know I need to break free from this situation but my Grandma has always been my strength through it all. After everything I’ve been through in life, she remains my anchor. I just miss my grandma now. She is always listening to old music and is very sweet too. My grandmother has been sick for two weeks now. I need to earn enough to buy her medicine and everything she needs. She's all I have in this world. I'm Melisa, 24 years old. And all I dream of is getting out of this life escaping the weight of survival. The sky outside is pitch black. It's late, and I'm the one on the night shift. As I begin closing the store, a group of men comes in loud, reckless, and laughing like they own the place. They start throwing ketchup packets, stomping on the floors I just mopped, flipping chairs.

"Hi, Sir... we're about to close. How can I help you?" I ask, my voice shaky, part fear, part frustration. There's no security tonight. I'm alone. As I try to clean up after them again, one of the men suddenly grabs my wrist and slams me against the wall.

I gasp.

The pain shoots through my body, but more than that—I'm terrified. "Hi, little girl... you're cute. What's your name?" one of them sneers. I squirm, trying to break free, but he's too strong. His grip is tight, and the others begin to circle me. My heart races, panic rising in my throat. I can't fight all of them. There are five men and just me.

"Let go of me, sir. If you want food, I can cook, just please... don't hurt me." He leans closer, smirking.

"Oh, my dear Melisa... food is fine, but you are more delicious than this shitty place. You ready, boys?" He must've seen the name tag on my uniform. As I struggle, they begin to grab at my clothes. Tears fell down my cheeks. I kick, I scream, but they're too strong. I'm overwhelmed. I feel my voice breaking, my body shaking.

Please... someone, please help me!

My thoughts are spinning. My chest tightens from fear, from rage, from helplessness.

Is this really how it ends?

Violated. Alone.

I was just doing my job. I was trying my best for myself. For my grandmother. For the life I'm fighting so hard to build. I wanted her to see me succeed. I wanted to tell her I made it. And now, I don't even  know if I'll see her again. I was out of control screaming, kicking, begging them to stop but they didn't. They overpowered me. They violated me here, in the very place I worked so hard to keep clean, to survive in. The pain cut through my body like glass, but worse than that was the feeling inside disgust. Shame. A hollow emptiness I couldn't even explain. I felt like I was sinking into nothingness. As they continued, I stopped struggling. Not because I gave in, but because I went numb. My body betrayed me, and my voice was drowned out by their cruel laughter. My tears kept falling hot, endless, and useless.

No one came.

No one helped.

I kept asking, Why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I've always tried to be good. I've always tried to be strong. For my grandmother. For myself. I've done everything I could to build a life out of nothing and still, the world keeps tearing it apart. At that moment, I didn't feel human anymore. I felt like something had been taken from me that I could never get back. 

Yes, I will never get back from this miserable life I have. I hated it. I hate all of you. 

"Oh God... help me," I whispered through broken sobs, "I don't know what to do." They left me there bleeding, broken, and bruised. My body ached in ways I couldn't describe. My clothes were torn, stained with dirt and blood, and I felt filthy... like something had been stripped from me that I'd never get back. I curled into myself, trembling on the cold floor, the pain so sharp it blurred everything around me. But the worst pain wasn't in my body, it was in my mind. In my heart. I felt shattered. It wasn't just what they did tonight. It was everything.

No one ever cared.

At school, they looked down on me. They belittled me. Mocked me for working at a fast-food chain. For being poor. For being different. I was always the girl they underestimated, the one they dismissed without a second thought. They never saw me. Not really.

And now... this? I feel sorry for myself. Pathetic, even. Why does this always happen to me?

Why do I keep being punished for just trying to

survive? I walked down the street alone. No people. Just cars speeding past, indifferent, like I didn't exist. My hair was a mess, my clothes torn and stained, my body covered in bruises. Every step hurts. I could still feel their hands on me, still see their cruel faces burned into my memory.

I didn't want to live anymore.

I didn't know what to do. How could I ever face my grandmother like this?

Grandma!

The thought snapped me out of my daze. I remembered she was alone tonight. I was supposed to be home by 12:30 to take care of her. Panic surged through my chest as I hurried toward the bus stop, dragging my aching body forward. On the bus, I pressed my forehead against the window. I wiped my tears quietly, trying to breathe, trying to feel something that resembled peace. But it wasn't there. My chest felt heavy so heavy I wanted to scream.

But I couldn't.

It was like someone had zipped my mouth shut. I wanted to cry, but the tears had run dry. I wanted to beg for someone to notice me, but I'd already been humiliated, broken. I felt like a ghost in my own skin. Invisible. Forgotten. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I didn't belong in this world anymore. But right now... the only thing I could think of was my grandmother.

I needed to get home. I had to.

I reached the house, my hands trembling as I tried to open the door. The moment it creaked open, I was hit with chaos. Everything was a mess. It looked like someone had robbed the place. My heart raced as I stepped inside, fear crawling through me.

Where was Grandma?

I stumbled through the house, my legs weak from the pain and the shock. Broken glass crunched beneath my feet.  Furniture was scattered across the floor like someone had thrown it around in a fit of rage.

And then I saw it. My grandmother's wheelchair was lying on its side, abandoned in the middle of the living room. "Grandma, no... no, please don't... don't leave me!" I cried out, my voice breaking. I rushed to her, desperate, but as I got closer, my blood ran cold. There she was, lying on the floor helpless.

Unalive.

Blood was everywhere. Her clothes were soaked in it, and the floor was soaked through. The sight of her so still, so lifeless sent a wave of horror crashing over me. Who did this to her? Who could have done this? I scrambled for my phone, hands shaking as I dialed 911. They picked up immediately, but I couldn't hear anything.  The only sound was the frantic beating of my heart and my cries as I held my grandmother in my arms.

I refused to let her go. I couldn't. Tears poured from my eyes. Pain and fear twisted inside me like a knife.

Everyone's gone. No one is left. Not her. Not me.

I screamed—loud, guttural, like I was drowning in grief. The questions kept swirling in my head. Why? Why her? Why now? I couldn't stop the pain, the desperation. All I wanted was answers. At the funeral, I was still searching for answers. How did she die? Why? But as the ceremony dragged on, I couldn't focus on the details. My mind kept replaying the events of the night of the violence I endured. The memory of that night haunted me, overlapping with the loss of my grandmother. It shattered me all over again.

No one cared.

Not a single person came to the funeral. It was just me and my grandmother, the only two left in this world. And now, we were both going into the

ground six feet under, and I, buried in my grief.

I couldn't stop crying.

What was the point of any of it? What was the point of surviving if it all ended like this? I was no longer worthy of anything. Not love. Not peace. Not even life. I held back my tears, trying to steady myself, but it was impossible.

I clutched the stuffed toy tightly in my arms, my 23rd birthday gift, the only thing my grandmother could afford to give me. It was small, worn, and faded, but it was hers. She picked it out with so much love, and it was all I had left of her now. 

I walked down the street, my grandmother's toy in my hands, wearing a black dress.  The night was falling again, and the darkness seemed to swallow me whole. I couldn't escape the memories of that night, of what happened to me.

I didn't care anymore.

I didn't feel like a person anymore. I didn't know who I was, or if I even wanted to know. All I felt was emptiness. I found myself sitting in the park, staring at people laughing and smiling, going about their lives as if nothing was wrong. How could they be so happy? How could they live in such light, when all I felt was darkness? I had been lied to. I thought he was the one. He wasn't. I'd been bullied, mocked, humiliated for things I couldn't control, like my job. And then they took everything from me—those men. Now my grandmother was gone, and I was completely alone.

How do I escape this madness in my head?

The thoughts kept spinning like a storm—louder, heavier, impossible to stop. I wanted revenge on the people who ruined me, who shattered every part of me. But how? How could I even begin, when I couldn't afford a bowl of soup, when every penny was a fight to survive? They would never stop. Not until I was completely gone from this world. They had taken everything, my dignity, my safety, my only family. I was a shadow of who I once was.

How do I live again? Where do I start?

I looked up at the sky, searching for answers in the stillness. The moon was full, its light soft, distant. But even the moon seemed to fade tonight, swallowed by the deepening dark. And somewhere between the weight of my thoughts and the ache in my chest...I fell asleep on the bench, alone beneath the stars. I woke up with a strange feeling like someone was watching me.

I looked around, but the park was still. Empty. No footsteps, no laughter. Not even a stray dog wandering through the grass. Maybe it was just my imagination... or maybe not.

Then I noticed something on the bench beside me.

A single black rose. I've never seen a black rose before. It's beautiful,rare and unique. I wonder who gave it to me. I looked around, but there was no one in sight. Not a single soul. Just the rose... and the strange chill that came with it. I blinked. It hadn't been there before. Had it? It was delicate and dark, almost unreal. Like something out of a dream or a warning.

Was it meant for me?

I glanced around again, searching for anyone who might've left it. But there was no one. Just the moonlight casting long shadows through the trees. A chill ran down my spine. I guess the weather's changing. Maybe it's time to head home... though something about the air felt different, heavier, like a warning whispered through the wind. Still, I picked up the rose and held it close, unsure why. Maybe because it was the only thing left that felt intentional like it meant something. I didn't know what, but it was enough to get me on my feet.

I just wanted to go home now. To rest. To disappear for a while. My stomach ached with emptiness, but I couldn't bring myself to eat. Not tonight.

Not after everything. When I got home, the first thing I noticed was the window open. Wide open. It's starting to rain again. Seems like even the weather isn't happy tonight, huh? My heart dropped. Something felt wrong. But this time, I wasn't going to run. I wasn't the same girl who cried in silence anymore. I try to calm myself. I have to—because I don’t know who’s going to come for me next. Right now, I’m just trying to survive. But there’s no sign of confusion, no mess, no struggle. That’s what makes it worse. Everything is clean. Too clean. The living room looks untouched. The kitchen? Spotless. I opened the fridge… Stocked. Groceries. Like someone lives here. What the fuck is going on? I needed to fight, even if I was trembling inside. I remembered the crowbar hidden behind the garden pot where I used to do gardening with Grandma. I grabbed it, clutching it tight in my hand, feeling the cold weight of steel press into my skin. My pulse was racing, my breath uneven, but I forced myself inside. Rage boiled under my skin. Maybe it was finally time to release all the fear, the pain, the shame. I was done being a victim. But as I moved through the house, room by room... there was no one.

Just silence. I feel like my night was carved from horror and terror. Please... I've had enough for today. I'm so tired—tired of running, tired of pretending, tired of this life that never seems to let me breathe. No broken drawers. No missing things. It wasn't a robbery. But someone had been here. I stepped into the kitchen and stopped cold. A table, perfectly set. A full meal, still warm. And in the center... Another black rose. A chill crawled down my spine. Who is this person? The memories crashed back again and those men, their faces, their voices. I shook my head, trying to push it all away. I couldn't go back there. Not again. I had to keep moving. Had to keep breathing. I looked around one more time. No one. No footsteps. No shadows. Just me. And the rose. I just realized I’m really hungry—craving all the things I love. Whoever this person is… they cooked everything I like. It’s almost too perfect. For a second, I wondered—could it be my grandma? Is she still alive? Or is this some kind of sick joke… or a ghost messing with me? No, stop it, Melisa. Don’t be stupid. Grandma knows you hate ghosts. Why would she show up in ghost form just to scare the crap out of you? I didn’t know my tears would fall down as I miss my grandma while eating my favorite food that she usually cooks for me.