Impermanent Names

Lady Madonna Tremaine did not enjoy gardening.

Yet she was bending down upon the rows of Roses, with a heavy pair of garden shears in one hand, pretending to look around and find branches she ought to prune. But actually, she only wanted to listen to what her newlywed husband, Joseph, had to say to his daughter- Ella.

Right now, they were chattering about the girl's dead mother. A topic that Madonna was least interested in. And so, she allowed her thoughts to wander awhile.

Madonna.

Who knew that Madonna was not her real name? She had never been Madonna. Her birth name had been simple and charming: Onna. And she had loved it. Until Sir Francis Tremaine came around and destroyed her life; including everything she loved.

Madonna Tremaine, as the young Onna Martinez, the only daughter of a widowed trader: Neil Theodore Martinez, had always been elegant and attractive. She had had a huge circle of charming ladies: all of them wanting to be her companion. But Onna Martinez had kept her life simple and suave. She had had no interest in gangs of giggling, blithering girls with no sense of sophistication.

But Onna had always loved children. She used to pay constant visits to Orphanages. The way to her favorite Orphanage had been lined with lush, thick bushes of Junipers and Orchids. Whilst passing them, she used to hum pleasant, melodious tunes to herself, skipping along the silent avenue. And one day, lost in that unacclaimed beauty of nature, singing to herself, Onna Martinez had, in a trance, collided with Sir Francis Tremaine.

It had been love at first sight.

Madonna Tremaine snapped out of her reverie as a thorn in the Rose shrubs pricked her. A thin, Red drop of blood trickled down her finger, to her Magenta full sleeves. Madonna pushed up the sleeve hurriedly, lest the blood soaked in.

The rolled up sleeve exposed her bare arm. Countless scars etched across her skin. Scars that told a painful, pitiable story. They still chewed upon her during sleepless nights.

Onna's whole life was a bland, open proof. Proof of how doing good did not always return in good. Proof of how there roamed savage monsters in the hide of humans. Savage monsters, like Francis Tremaine.

Her father had loved her unconditionally. The only thing he had ever wanted was Onna's happiness. And seeing that her happiness was in marrying Francis Tremaine: Neil Martinez had immediately agreed for the wedding. For a few years after that, everything had been going well. They even had two daughters: Drizella and Anastasia Tremaine.

Then, the first tragedy had struck.

When Drizella had been three, Neil Martinez had left them forever.

The devoted, loving daughter, Onna, had been inconsolable. Neil Martinez, on the other hand, had left all his property to her. Sir Tremaine had then realized how rich his wife had become, overnight.

He had wanted the property. He had wanted all of it. But Onna was not as naïve to part with her father's assets. For it, they had argued relentlessly, uncompromisingly. And Onna had somewhere realized how destructive money was: once it entered a relationship, it didn't leave without destroying the bond entirely.

Those arguments, like every other household argument, had gone too far. Onna still remembered that dark day clearly. The bleak, cloudy morning of sixteenth February. When the only man she had ever, truly loved, had, just for money, struck her across the face.

That day, all love for Francis had been wiped out of Onna's heart.

But the abuse had continued. Francis would do anything to make her yield the fortune. He was greedy. He was crazy. He was a monster.

Onna knew her scars were the most painful ones anybody could have. Nothing could hurt more than the scars given by one's own loved ones. She had told of the abuse to the law enforcers, to the neighbors, to her friends. But they all had refused to believe her. Francis had been cunningly two-faced. He already had respect in the society. And he had behaved so courteously in front of others that they couldn't imagine a single flaw in him. He had told them how Onna was the deranged one. That she harmed herself, no matter how much he tried to prevent it.

Over time, they had begun to believe that. They had begun calling her "Mad Onna".

Madonna.

But finally, fate had had pity on Madonna.

Francis had died of Scarlet Fever. With that, another struggle had begun. Madonna had left the place of her birth forever. Distanced herself from those people who knew of the abuse and her terrible life. But she had kept the name.

Madonna.

It shielded her true identity as Onna Martinez. She had later met Joseph, himself a widower, with a daughter to care for. Living as a widow had been tough for Madonna. The two had wedded, more out of a contract than of love. And yet, Onna had grown to love Joseph...

'I only loved Laura, Ella. I only, truly loved your mother. I will love no one else. Not ever.' Joseph's voice in the distance cooed with a deep, unhappy longing.

Madonna snapped out of her reverie once again. Her hopes, her heart, shattering into a million shards with that single sentence. Just when they had been able to heal.

Hot, leaping flames of anger raged through Madonna as she threw away the garden shears, in fury. She straightened up and swore- then and there. Joseph did not love her. He was not capable of opening his heart to her.

And so be it. Madonna swore she would never open her heart to his daughter either. With the first chance she had, she would reduce Ella to something much, much more pitiable than she herself was.

If Onna had been pushed into "Madonna", she would push Ella into worse! She would push her into the cinders. She would make her- Cinderella!