He was severely deafened by the cacophony of voices around her. She didn’t know if the sounds emanating from the streets below or a voice within her head that she had grown accustomed to hearing for a very long time.
Her eyes slowly opened. She could notice the silhouette of a woman standing next to her bed and slowly dissipating in the early morning light.
Nevertheless, It didn’t bother her. It was her miserable chamber where she could hear squeals and screams throughout their home, dominating every nook and cranny. She got to her feet, seeing the room was illuminated by the dusk sun as it filtered through the window.
She flung open the window and peered down at the rose garden below while feigning a smile, something she frequently hated doing to herself. The pain in her chest and the dizziness didn’t bother her at all. Does she begrudge her current state of feeling? Despite being ill, she never once complained or grumbled.
“You only see my smiles. You are blind to my weak soul and my never-ending thoughts.” How she wished wind had told the seductive rose. How she wishes the breeze will meekly sing everything ugly and broken within her, all that is ragged and old, and whisper it to a rose—a small rose asleep. “It was depravity, seared with wounds and dancing in the ashes. It’s a flashback, and I didn’t see it coming. Then, all of a sudden, the past took over as the loudest voice in my head.”
Afloat with her never-ending thoughts, she was drawn into the pulsing heart of the wind as it went by. The melancholy ballad melody seemed to be emanating from the sepulcher. Her hair was a deep midnight black color and hung over her shoulders. She had saccharine-sweet lips. They had bloom softness. Shyriel is lovely. That is why so many people favored her.
However, who could understand what lies beneath that beauty? Perhaps not even the rose petals down below. She felt as though she was the only dead person among everyone else as she moved through the packed street. They have no idea how many dead feelings she is harboring.
“It’s morning again, walking wounded alone on the endless darkest road.” Shyriel bemoaned having to recall every detail at once, which had previously led to the flower in her garden of hope dying. However, after it lost, what was left for her? Perhaps, all that’s left is her heart, barely beating. How sweet the dead is, but Hades denies her the gift of death.
She spun around at the sound of the door creaking and saw, Mark, her Fiance walking into her room. She didn’t appear to be seen by Mark or he was just pretending and blind to her presence. After doing some reconnaissance, Mark made a face as long as a fiddle. With tears, he exited the room. Shyriel hailed him, but Mark didn’t hear her, so she followed him outside her room. Mark descended to the first floor of the house, but after a few periods, she lost sight of him. And where was he? What was the matter with him?
Shyriel reached their yard searching for Mark. Their house has a sizable yard. The area is filled with different flowers. She was intrigued by her Fiance’s behavior and wondered how come he dissipated in her sight at once. Mark needed to tell Shyriel if he was feeling unhappy. She wants to spare her fiance’s pain.
“Mark, where are you?” She gasped.
“Sweety—”
Why did it seem like nobody heard her? It felt like in the small universe of their humble abode, she felt that she was the only person residing there, with not even the margin of the rose petal able to notice Shyriel’s familiarity. 
The yard was her parents' favorite spot. His Mom and Dad’s voices appeared out of nowhere. They are conversing. As is traditional for them, her parents were seated on the chair surrounded by roses. She was unwilling to hear what her parents were saying. Nonetheless, she heard her name.
“I am ashamed of Shyriel. I’m disappointed with her.” Mr. Ismael bellowed. “Everything was the fault of her creating.” He added.
Her mother, Era, lifted an eyebrow and indicated she agreed with Ismael. “Why on earth could Shyriel even accept Mark’s proposal if he is not the one she should be with? Shyriel will later realize that Mark chases after women and women chase after her. It is heart over heart, without a second thought. That shrewd Mark changes women like he does his clothing.”
Incredulous, Shyriel stood still. Mark Angelus Villarosa is her longtime boyfriend, and Mark proposed to her ten months ago. At that moment she felt like she was on cloud nine. Unbeknownst to her parents, Mark was the one to stand up for her during the darkest moment of a storm raging in her head.
Ismael nodded. “In months they’ll live under a safe roof, raising children, and we both still despise it.”
“I don’t like Mark for my daughter.” Era snapped.
“Then go tell your stubborn daughter. She’s I doubt it in the end, Mark will break her heart.”
As she turned around, Shyriel shook her head. The door was slammed after she entered.  What derogatory remarks were made about her fiance? Mark was so genuine in his dishonesty. It was always about Mark and her whenever she overheard her parents talking. She knew in the first place that her parents hate Mark for her, and Mark didn’t say a word.
The relationship between Mark and Shyriel gradually deteriorated and lost its spark as a result of her parents and their hate for Mark.  The wedding ceremony is imminent, and if the one hope she didn’t, particularly treasure was dashed, what about her?
She ascended to her room. She sprang into bed and stared at the ceiling. She had a void in her. It was typical, she never ride on the crest of a wave. Her parents’ pride and bigotry eventually robbed her of the little happiness she did have—Mark. She shook her head and broken pieces of diamond streamed down her eyes, wept. She roughly wiped her wet cheeks with her palms.
Her head is in knots. She heaved profoundly, and immediately stood up and turned to face the phone she knew would soon ring. She was expecting Mark’s voice on the phone, yet she couldn’t help but feel like a piquant dagger has been plunged into her chest. Beginnings are agonizing, as is waiting.
She unlocked her large closet after making a careful approach there. She was shown the lovely gown she will don when she marries Mark. Why, then, did she not smile when she saw her wedding dress?  She pouted her lips. The bridal gown was filthy, ugly, ripped, and rat-nipped. When the room started to seem filthy and abandoned, she twitched her hair.
Shyriel quickly left her room and headed downstairs. She noticed her folks eating breakfast at the dining room table. Besides her lovely best friend Andrea, Mark—Shyriel’s fiance—was present. Her fear had long since subsided. She was brimming with intense joy. Does that indicate her parents had finally come to terms with him becoming their son-in-law? Nonetheless, it appeared that no one paid attention to her.
“Hello?” she tried to get their attention.
“Ma, Pa—”
“Sweety?”
“Andrea. Can’t you see me?” Now her tears became endless spring. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with everyone?” she added wailing.
She step closer with shards in her chest and she could hear their conversation. Now, Shyriel’s hands trembled. Her tongue spitting nails, as she observed Mark romantically holding Andrea’s hands as he proudly displayed it to her parents. Her parents were visibly pleased by the event. What about Shyriel now?
“I’ll be expecting you to be in Cove of heart’s lighthouse cliff tomorrow.” Mark gushed looking at Mr. Ismael.
What? Cove of heart’s lighthouse cliff? Isn’t that where they will be getting married in three months?
“I am happy for you Mark and Adrea.” Ms. Era was pleased.
Now, Shyriel's heart ached like she was sleeping with embers. West is where her soul has gone.
“I’m too sad that—” Mrs. Era sobbed and cut her. “As Shyriel was no longer with us, I apologize. She born asleep.”
She downcast her yes and drooping eyelids. She shattered.
“She kept the pain and depression in herself.” Ismael lamented.
“I’m so sorry!” Mark burst into tears.
“It was all our fault.” Mrs. Era cried holding closely the glass of water to her chest.
Andrea tapped Mark’s shoulder and
gently massaged it. “I think, you must explain the circumstances surrounding Shyriel’s death. They are entitled to the truth.”
Mark sat straight and wipe roughly his wet cheeks. “I apologize profusely. It was indeed that Shyriel battled despair and anxiety. We were meant to get married in twenty-hours ten months ago.—” His voice cracked once again. “Her attempt to win the battle failed. She requested euthanasia in the doctor’s office, but I administered the fatal dose. I request that from the doctor so I can assure that Shyriel did not experience any discomfort as she sluggishly closed her eyes. But before fainting, she begged me to marry Andrea.” Mark with his blurry eyes turned to Andrea.
Shyriel realized that she had long since departed away, her soul fading subtly in the atmosphere of hopelessness.
Tomorrow morning Mark walked to a wall and opens it. Wedding bells from the neighboring Basilique du Sacre-Coeur de Montmartre’s lighthouse cliff were softly ringing. He was contemplating something while imagining his fiancee walking in the aisle.
Mark grumbled and quickly left the church. He took his automobile out further. He walked to the lovely Charnel House, where Shyriel is buried six feet below the surface. In front of Shyriel’s monument, Mark knelt. He sobbed uncontrollably till he lost his breath.
“I am sorry, Sweety.” Inhaling heavily, he collapsed close to Shyriel’s tombstone. “I’m sorry.” The church bells continued to ring as he closed his eyes and fell asleep. When he woke up again, the day came to an end, and the sun gave one final, beauty, as it slipped below the horizon.