Disclaimer: I only have claim on Melodie and her part in the War of the Ring, the rest is Tolkien’s. Any lyrics I post within my fic are that of Evanescence unless I state otherwise.

Chapter One: An Abused Life

Melodie stood looking out of her bedroom window. Her room was illuminated only by a couple thin beams of moonlight; everything else was bathed in inky darkness. It was past midnight, but Melodie wasn’t tired. Her CD player was nearly on full blast, playing the only thing she ever listened to: Evanescence. She just stood there, unmoving, her black clothing blending her into the night. She stared out into the darkness and thought of how horrible and violent her life was.

Everyone hated her. Her parents earned money by ripping people off on the Internet and whatever time they didn’t spend on the computer they spent at the bar, drinking. They gave nothing to Melodie, other than a roof over her head and enough food to keep the officials at her school from noticing anything. Melodie had received her clothes, make-up, CDs and CD player from the only person who had shown her a little kindness. But now he was gone from her life, and she did not miss him; not after what he had done to her.

The students at school were no better. Her classmates harassed her every day either verbally or physically. On occasion, they just acted as though she wasn’t there, but then their beatings would be twice as severe the next day. Melodie was present for very few classes, and she never attended gym. She didn’t want anyone to see the scars that made her look like a corpse. She had given up on getting the good grades that she used to earn all the time. Eighties and low nineties were never good enough for her parents; they wanted to see one hundreds everywhere. She always sat in the back of the class, and though she did pay some attention, she never participated nor put forth any effort. This resulted in her being held back in eleventh grade.

Melodie hated school. Her classmates would call her every name they could think of. She would come to school and the first thing they did would be to ram her into the lockers. Any wound she would have received from her parents would re-open; new wounds would appear also. Everyone told her that she wasn’t worth anything and didn’t deserve to live. ‘Why don’t you just go commit suicide? You do not belong here!’ they would say.

Suicide? Yes, Melodie had considered it. It seemed so tempting at times; she would have a chance to be happy in heaven. One drastic move and then all the pain would diminish. She could leave her abused life and go to a better place. But Melodie no longer believed in God. Instead, she cursed the name. God had abandoned her long ago. Melodie could just take her dagger out from under her pillow, plunge it into her chest and end her life…..but what would there be afterwards? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Melodie used to be a sweet girl, but she had turned hardcore. Her waist-length black hair was often left loose and she wore heavy black make-up around her eyes so they looked sunken and covered any black eyes she had received. Her eyes were a shade of emerald green, but they were blank, expressionless, no longer displaying any emotions unless she truly lost control. She usually wore black clothing, sometimes red or white. She always wore knee-length combat boots, and she dressed in baggy pants covered in chains and zippers and tops in layers with rips, fishnet, and buckles.

She listened to Evanescence all the time. They sang about pain, death, betrayal, and torture; some of these were what Melodie was suffering from. Melodie’s pain was eased a little knowing that there were others who suffered from the same things as her and worse.

When Melodie was younger, she used to have a sweet voice when she spoke. But no more. She seldom spoke anymore, and when she did, her voice was dangerously low. When someone addressed her, she just stared at them blankly with her deadly glare clouded over with pain and neglect, and everyone who was sympathetic left her alone. She could sing, but the only songs she sang were the ones Amy Hartzler did. Her voice sounded more like a cry for help than a song.

She had resorted to taking martial arts and other self-defense classes to better defend herself if her life were to be threatened. At first, she had to join the maintenance crew and work to pay off her classes, but now she took care of some of the weapons and acted as an example and sparring partner for some of the instructors in return for using their facilities to practice. She now had her own Asian-style knives and sword, a dagger, and a bow, quiver and arrows which she had obtained from her efforts in competitions. Melodie doubted that sword-play and archery would ever help her in fighting off her parents, though she hoped that one day they would. But when would that time come?

Melodie welcomed the darkness. It was the only time she could bury her pain and find some peace. But peace was becoming harder and harder to reach. Her parents’ car turned into the driveway. Melodie had to take a stand. She had no life left; her spirit had wasted away. She truly didn’t care anymore.