To be unpublished soon and rewritten!
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For now, I exist in an unseen world; and it is called survival. - Angie Weiland- Crosby.
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Melissa entered the cathedral with hesitant and uncertain steps at first, and stood there for a minute, without moving forward. She could hear the faint ecclesiastical tones and whispers filling the atmosphere and welcoming her, while a children's choir were singing hymns of praise and worship, harmoniously in the front of the church.
There were rows and rows of long wooden benches, that could be seen throughout the cathedral, with only a few people seated on them. It was relatively quiet, in here today, and she was grateful for that.
She had been purposefully avoiding the large crowds of people, and the media, who had often been bombarding her with questions about how, she felt being married to a cold-blooded murderer, as the town had so harshly labelled Derek.
The press would do everything in their power to get their greedy little hands-on information about her husband - they were like insatiable vultures that had been after her since Derek had been arrested. Coming out today had been a huge step for her. She just hoped, she would walk away this morning with some hope left to cling to.
With her shoulders hunched low and her head fixated to the floor, Melissa wandered past the small crowd of people, who had just entered the cathedral the same time, as she had and turned her phone off, so she wouldn't be distracted from what she'd set out to do today.
She remembered the last time she'd stepped foot in a church like this, was when she and Derek had been wedded. She recalled driving past it with him, countless times, and yet never had it piqued such interest in her until now. It was even more breathtakingly beautiful from the inside.
It had a sort of gothic splendour to it, with its distinguished Victorian architecture, Norman arches and high arched, stained windows, with barely any visible light that could be seen through them.
Her attention drifted across the room, searching eagerly, for the confessional box that was hidden somewhere in the corner of the church as if she were a lost, little child trying to find her way.
She could see an elderly couple looking at her and whispering amongst themselves with worried scowls on their raisin-skinned faces the second they set their sights on her. She strolled past them, trying not to let their snide remarks about Derek get to her and confidently told herself, how she couldn't wait to prove every person in this town wrong about her husband.
She paid no heed to their incessant staring and gossiping and found herself being gravitated towards a sweet, bubbly woman, with soft gentle, grey eyes, a ruddy complexion, and russet-coloured hair. She had eyes that were brighter than the pastures of the sun, just like she'd remembered her nana's to be.
