Melanie and Heath were sitting down in her family room enjoying the movie they were watching Mona Lisa Smile. It wasn't one that Heathdidn't want to watch but anything to make Mel smile, he would go through.
"This is great!" Mel slipped the DVD into the player and sat back down on the sofa. "Hey, do you want some soda or popcorn?"
"I'll take some popcorn. Do you want me to help?" Heath loved popcorn...and spending time with his girlfriend.
"I guess you could come into the kitchen with me." She walked into the spacious kitchen and went to one of the many pantries. "So, we have..." she searched for the good kind of popcorn. "We have cheese, carmel, and butter. We can always melt butter and add extra to the popcorn." She set the three bags on the marble counter top and let him choose.
He looked at them for a minute, pondering which one to choose but he looked back up at her and grabbed her to pull her into a kiss. Breath taken, she led him to the couch.
They were probably laying there for about 30 min. but both of them heard the door behind them open and close quickly and harshly.
"Mom! What are you doing here? Dad?" Her parents were soaked due to the pouring rain outside, and they wre panting as if they had been running a relay.
Heath looked at them very confused. Her mother, Aminta, spoke up. "Honey, you need to get your coat and suitcase. We have to leave immediatly!" Her parents rushed up to their bedroom on the second level as did Mel.
Heath decided to follow her. "What's going on Melanie?" They reached her tope colored room and she ran to her closet.
"I don't know. I honestly don't. They've talked about this...one person who has threatened stuff but they dropped the subject as I asked what was going on. I'm scared." She threw herself on him. He embraced her protectively.
"It will be ok. Just keep in touch." she looked over at him and started crying.
"If this is what I'm thinking might happen, I won't be able to. he WPP won't allow it." Heaths' face went pale. If anything happened to her, he would kill himself. This isn't how it was going to end. "I'm so sorry."
Then the door was knocked down and people rushed upstairs. Mel reconnized the voice; it was him. She whispered, "Quickly, in here. No-one can get in without the key." They bothed rushed in there and heard gun shots. She clung to him as he did to her.
Moments later, the two in the closet heard a door slam downstairs. It was the front door. "I'm going to go out there." Mel went and investigated and saw her father shot dead on the hallway floor. She let out a ear-piercing scream that sent her mother to do the same.
Melanie...I mean, Nathalie went back to her home a year after that fateful night. It was sold to a great family with two toddlers and both parents, something that she missed terribly. She had her mother, this is true, but her dad was the best thing in the world.
She walked around town, with a scarf around her neck due to the friged October wind. She loved it and missed it; there was no peace in her new home in New York City.
She saw her old school and both her friend, Chyenne and Levi, talking and walking down to the ice cream parlor; they all went every Thursday. They always ordered the same thing, which was Sugar Cookie.
It hurt to come back to her old home but it hurt even more to go to the city cemetary. She walked around, singing to herself, "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again." It took awhile to get the grave she was searching for. She took out the note that started it all; her great realtionship with the man she loved.
Melanie,
I know you don't know me very well but maybe we could hook up and catch a movie? Write back,
Heath
She shead a single tear reading it over and over again. She missed him. She read the tombstone
Heath Liam Restral
1989-2006
He lost it after she left him. He told her that he would do that if she ever left him. She layed the note down beside the grave with a second note that she wrote that morning.
Heath,
If your reading this in heaven, please know that I still love you. Please stay with me and guide me. I love you,
Your Mel.
