• Please Wash Away Everything, Dear Rain


    She stood in the rain, staring at her feet. Lightning danced in the sky like bony finger; thunder exploded above her and shook the ground. Under normal circumstances the girl would have been scared in such a storm, but now it seemed like she didn't deserve to even be scared. Nothing seemed to have an emotional effect on her. Although the pounding rain washed away the dirt from her tattered clothes and bruised skin, washed away her tears, washed away the small splatters of blood on her face, nothing could get rid of the melancholy air of death around her. She crouched down in the mud and wrapped her arms around her knees. Everything started to sink in. She was alone. Again. There was no one to support her when she was weak, there was no one to take her into her arms and comfort her, no one was there like there was before.

    She sank down, hugging her knees to her chest. Her dark hair fell forward over her face and stuck there with the help of the rain and her tears. Her shoulders shook up and down from sobbing. Cars passed on the ribbon of road not too far away, but no body stopped, nobody took notice of the girl. They passed as if she were a sight they saw everyday. Nobody seemed to care about the pained girl at the side of the road. They moved on like she was simply a girl-shaped rock that didn't matter.

    The footsteps were faint in the commotion of the storm and the torrent of emotions swirling in the girl's head, but she heard them clearly. Suddenly the rain pouring down on top of her stopped. Replaced by the sound of it beating on a piece of cloth. The girl looked up with a hopeful expression in her eyes. A boy about her age stood in front of her. He was dressed in an expensive looking black suit that was the same color as his longish hair. In one hand he held a black umbrella. The other hand was outstretched toward the girl. He wore a kind expression on his face. The girl felt even more poor and dirty crouched by the boy, but the boy didn't seem to mind her looks.

    “You look cold.” the boy said in his high pitched, prepubescent voice and smiled.

    She tried to return his smile, but she failed miserably. She stopped trying and clutched onto the boy's hand with both of hers as if it were a life saver in the ocean of sorrow she was drowning in. They boy pulled her to her feet and led her shivering form to a waiting car by the road. She went willingly. A lot of places were better than where she came from, and anywhere was better than where she was now.