She glanced at the twin coffins that passed by with her head lowered, eyes brimming with unshed tears. The funeral procession was huge with a multitude of people in attendance, some in sorrow and some hoping to be seen by one of the many flashing cameras focused on the event.

It was all a farce. A facade. The only people who were allowed to truly be upset were the family and close friends. But it was as if this was a high demand social event, the greatest of the year. People shed a few tears, some genuine, some fake whilst condolences spilt from their lips like a broken tap that would never be fixed.

Some had already posted about the event, stressing what a shame it was, tagging her in their photos with the hashtag 'RememberingTheAstleys'. They made sure to include the coffins in the background, eyes gleaming greedily behind their black sunglasses.

If this was the event of the year, then she was in the spotlight, an S-List celebrity to people she had never seen before and people she will never care to remember.

The press was present, ensuring not a single moment was missed, catching every tear that fell from her family's grief-stricken faces and her stoic and composed one.

This was supposed to be a private moment, one where she could wish her farewell in peace and give some respite to her aching heart. Instead, it was a public event with a crowd that she refused to shed a tear in front of.

She clutched the Hyacinths closely as if they were a lifeline, despite not even liking the flowers. But it was her mother's favourite so she would treasure them dearly. The small buds had recently bloomed and been trimmed, a fresh fragrance wafting out and sending her into a downwards spiral filled with raw memories.

She had asked her mother once why she had liked Hyacinths. They seemed rather plain, and modest, unlike the extravagant decor that decorated their home.

"They are like multiple little flowers in one plant, a flower that has both quality and quantity. They mean consistency and sincerity, qualities that we should all show, right, my love?"

Holding back the painful rush of emotions that tried to sweep over her, much like an incoming, ever-growing tsunami, she walked onwards, brave and strong, as that was expected from her.

The press chattered away in the distance, disrespectfully. She hadn't missed the low flying helicopter either, trying to get a bird's eye view of the funeral, live streaming to the local television where millions more watched on. That company would receive a hefty fine later today for infringing on her privacy as well as adding to the noise pollution from the crowd.

"- Many have come to mourn and pay their respects to the most respected couple of all time, known for their philanthropy and social work. The world will be devastated by this loss."

Scoffing, she gave the reporter a dirty look. What bullshit. Most had not come to pay their respects. They had come to flaunt their ability to attend. None will be devastated or grief-stricken. Most will move on and carry on with their insignificant lives. The most tragic day of her life was just an article, a post or a tweet to some.

People clamoured loudly to try to get a picture of her. She didn't hide, rather she held her head high. She had been a recluse, living a quiet life away from the public eye and scrutiny. She dealt with her problems using her own resources rather than relying on her parents or the public. A hidden social recluse, the papers had called her. A wanted bachelorette with beauty and brains. Heir to a vast fortune. For many, it was the first time they had ever seen her and a good picture would sell well.

She was tiring of this. She needed peace and closure. She glanced at one of her bodyguards, gesturing for him to come closer using the discrete dip of her sunglasses.

"My Lady, what is it you require?" He asked, straight to the point.

"We don't need the riff-raff to come in and sully the respectful silence my parents deserve. The memorial doors will not be opened as they are buried as this is not a zoo exhibit but a day of mourning. Tell the managers that access had been denied to everyone except those on my personal list", she ordered, indifferent to all the trouble that her change of plans would cause.

"Yes, Miss", he responded promptly, marching with purpose towards the event managers who would no doubt be livid. They wanted the press and the public to see. To make fun and to ridicule at such a personal moment. At her parent's passing. Because all they saw was the money and the fame to be gained from such an event which would, in turn, mean more money for them.

Surely enough, movements later, a red-faced man came stumbling towards her without any semblance of decorum, his mouth opened in protest before even within the speaking range.

"This is outrageous!" he cried outlandishly. "We have a plan and a schedule. You cannot change this on a whim!"

She held out her hand, demanding silence in one powerful fluid motion. "Yes, I can and yes, I shall. Remember who it is that is lining your pockets now. None shall enter the memorial except those on my personal list and myself. In any sense, it will make this seem more intriguing and pique the public's interest further. Regardless, I do not care. If anyone has a problem, show them the exit and remind them of their place".

He opened his mouth again, but a warning grunt from her bodyguard encouraged him to head back, tail tucked between his legs.

"It's almost pathetic", she murmured to herself. "How money runs the world and morals are so easily discarded".

As the coffins arrived at the memorial, she walked in first, almost establishing the hierarchy to the others. Members of her personalised list also entered, one by one and as the doors were slowly shut behind them, a cry of protest rose from the public as they demanded to also catch a glimpse. She ignored them, however, and turned her back as the doors shut firmly, sealing them in and keeping the noise out.

Walking to the coffins, she placed one of the Hyacinths on her mother's coffin and the other on her fathers. The coffins were a deep mahogany, a rich colour swirling with natural wooden patterns, gleaming with a reflective gloss. Gold embroidered the details, catching the light even in the darkness of the memorial. The purple appeared to both contrast and blend in with the richness of the coffins, a splash of colour against the dark wood. She glanced at her sombre expression, staring at her reflection on the coffin, centimetres away from where her dead parents lay. There was no physical sign of mourning, only an aura of detachedness. Strangely, it felt surreal. Like any moment now, her parents would still be here, by her side. But they were not.

Others paid their respects, her maternal grandmother placing a reassuring hand on her lower back. Her grandfather stood strong but she could sense the heartbreak deep within from the loss of his only daughter, his eyes glistening from the faintest hint of sorrow.

Her paternal grandparents did not attend, and neither had she expected them to. She believed they were alive, her father had scornfully said as much, but they had never bothered with her and she with them. However, she had expected them to at least have the common courtesy to visit the death of their only son, but she had clearly assumed too much. Nonetheless, she was glad; She wasn't particularly keen on meeting them.

Her grandmother's warm hand was soothing, grounding even. Her cousins stood silently, almost in shock at their loss.

No one had seen it coming. No one had expected it. Her parents were healthy, leading the epitome of a perfect lifestyle. They never smoke, drank or used any recreational drugs. They would exercise regularly, together.

All that, and for what?

All it took was one person, who ruined everything. One who was so intoxicated by their own worthlessness, they decided her parent's worth was nothing.

The last Hyacinth, gripped tightly in her left hand, crumbled away as she released the torn blooms. The fine purple dust wafted gently to the marble in front of her parent's coffins, its aroma encapsulating her in nostalgia and a stronger sense of loss.

She would never forgive the drunkard who tore her parents away from this world. He would pay for his recklessness. She did not have the power to bring her parents back from the dead, but she did have the power to exact her revenge.

No matter the cost.

So, that was the first chapter.

Any thoughts? Let me know here ->

Another chapter will be released soon.

Xx