Текст книги "Fading"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

I walk into Jase's apartment, and without a second thought, head straight toward the bathroom. I feel completely filthy, and the urge to scrub every inch of my body overwhelms me. I don't say a word to Jase as I close the door behind me. Reaching into the shower, I turn on the water. Purposely avoiding looking at myself in the mirror, I start removing my clothes. The bathroom quickly fills with steam. I open the large glass door and step into the scalding hot water. Standing underneath the showerhead, I let the water pelt against my body. I brace both of my hands against the wall of slick tile and let my head fall down. My face is hot, and I know I'm crying even though I can't feel my tears as they mesh with the water running down my face.

Time is frozen as I stand here in this position. My chest aches, and my whole body feels broken. My stomach burns, and I swear to God I can start to feel my soul begin to break. Piece by piece I begin to lose myself. My chest is crumbling into painful shards of what used to be me. Violent sobs wrack my body, and I slowly collapse on the wet tile beneath me. Sitting there on my knees, with one hand on the floor balancing myself, and the other pressed against my chest, I try desperately to gasp in breaths between my wails.

I know I am no longer alone when I feel arms wrapping around me and a heavy chest on my back. Jase holds me tighter than anyone has ever held me, and I begin to cry harder. I sit here, on the bottom of the shower, and everything I know about myself, everything I love, everything I am begins to fade.

My tears run dry, and Jase and I sit in silence under the water. He loosens his hold on me, and I continue to rest on my knees—frozen. Jase takes the body wash and starts to rub it into my skin. All of my energy has disappeared, so I don't protest; I just let him take care of me.

After he washes my hair, I open my eyes and look at him for the first time. He is soaking wet in his gym shorts and t-shirt. He turns the water off and strips out of his clothes, leaving them on the floor of the shower as he steps out. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he grabs another and drapes it over my shoulders as he helps me stand up. He walks me over to the toilet and sits me down.

"I'll be right back," he says as he walks out of the bathroom. When he returns, he is wearing a pair of dry gym shorts and is carrying a handful of clothes for me. Grabbing a hand towel, he kneels down in front of me and starts wiping my face. I look into his eyes, and I can see the worry in them. I reach up and rake my fingers through the wet hair on top of his head and grip tightly as I drop my head and begin to cry again.

"I'm so sorry," I manage to say through my tears.

He takes my hand from his head and kisses it. Leaning his forehead against mine and holding my face between his two hands, he says, "You...don't you ever be sorry for this."

We sit like this for a while before he dries me off and helps me put on one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers. We walk to his room and slide into bed. Wrapping me in his arms, I lay my head on his chest and listen to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat. I release a silent prayer that when I wake up, this will have never happened—it will have only been a horrendous nightmare. I hold on tightly to that prayer as my eyelids become heavy, and I slowly drift into a restless sleep.

I jolt awake and can hardly catch my breath. My hands are shaking, and when I look up, I see Jase on his knees next to me.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking completely freaked out.

"I don't know," I say. I'm really confused, and my heart is pounding. "What happened?"

Jase lets out a deep breath as he falls back on his heels, sitting next to me. "You were having a nightmare. You scared the shit out of me, screaming and thrashing around."

"I'm sorry. I don't even know what I was dreaming about," I say as a slowly lie down on my side and try to calm my erratic breathing.

Lying down facing me, Jase asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Numb," I answer and close my eyes. Maybe I cried out all the emotions I had, because I can't seem to feel much right now. When I open my eyes, Jase is staring at me with concern written all over his face. I really wish he wouldn't look at me like that; it makes me feel weird, like I'm suddenly different now. I know that I am, but can we just pretend that I'm not?

"What time is it?" I ask.

He rolls on his back, reaches over to his nightstand, and swipes his phone. "It's almost three in the afternoon," he says as he rolls back to me.

"Three?"

"Yeah, we didn't even leave the hospital till after five this morning," he says, and then reaches his arms out as a request to hold me. I scoot over and allow the embrace. He kisses the top of my head before asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I haven't spoken one word to Jase about what happened last night. I'm not sure I can. But I know that I don't want to. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat and simply shake my head. How am I supposed to talk about it? What do I even say?

The tears start to well in my eyes; the tears I thought I no longer had. It's hard to fight them with the tightness in my throat. Jase must feel my body trembling when he kisses the top of my head and whispers, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to push you."

As the tears spill over, I silently curse my unanswered prayer. I try hard not to cry, but it only makes my body jerk as I try and hiccup the sobs back. Jase moves one of his hands up from my back, cups my head, and whispers in my ear, "Please don't hurt yourself like this, Candace. Just let it out. It's just me here."

I shove my head harder and deeper into his chest as a desperate attempt to hide. Hide from the cloud that is suddenly looming over me. He tightens his grip on me, and I let it out. I lie against his chest and just cry. I cry like a baby—helpless. I'm so desperate for someone to save me. To make it all go away.

The heat of Jase's bare chest against my wet, teary face suddenly makes my skin burn. I push back off of him and cup my cheek, unable to stop the free-flowing tears. He removes my hand and looks at the cuts on my face.

"I'll be right back, sweetie," he says as he jumps out of bed. I hear him in the bathroom, and when he returns, he's holding a large square bandage and some ointment. He sits on the bed in front of me and starts tending to the scratches on my face. Once he is done, he adheres the bandage to my cheek, then walks to his closet, and throws on a t-shirt.

"You hungry?" he asks.

"No," I say as I shake my head and lie back down. "I just want to go back to bed."

Walking towards me, he says, "You really should eat. Just try."

I lie there with my eyes closed. "Please, Jase."

He doesn't say another word. He simply crawls back into bed behind me and holds me until I fall asleep.

Drifting in and out, I'm finding it hard to shut my brain off. Every time I close my eyes I picture Jack on top of me. The more I try and fight the thoughts, the more vivid they become. He's right here with me, right here inside my head. I close my eyes again, and I can hear the ripping of my shirt as Jack fists the fabric. I quickly sit up in the bed and grab my breast where he bit me. I can feel the sharp pain shooting through me again. Why can't he leave me alone? Why can't I get away from him? My gut is in knots, and I am shaking. I jump out of bed, run to the bathroom, and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Since I haven't eaten in over a day, there's hardly anything left in me. I begin dry heaving painfully. My whole body is convulsing, and tears are streaming down my face. I close my eyes, and I see Jack's murderous glare as he's ripping off my underwear. I hear frantic screams. My mind is in overdrive, and I can hardly focus, but the screams are piercing. I cover my ears and shuffle back into the corner on my bottom. I have no idea where all the noise is coming from, but it's scaring me.

Suddenly, the bathroom light turns on, and I see Jase run to me. He falls to his knees in front of me and grasps onto my wrists that are against my face. His lips are moving, but I can't hear him over the screaming. I try and focus on his lips to make out what he is saying, and his voice begins filtering through. I can hardly hear him when he says, "It's okay." I continue to focus and the more I do, the more I can hear him and less of the screams. "It's okay, Candace. I'm right here." He pulls me to him and slowly rocks me back and forth. The swaying feels soothing in the madness around me. As he whispers, "Shhh," into my ear, I realize that those screams I heard were coming from me. How can I be so disoriented? Terrified by what just happened, I feel myself being lifted off the floor. Jase scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the couch. I bury my head into his neck, fully embarrassed by what has just happened. I can barely comprehend it.

Setting me down, Jase walks into the kitchen and comes back with two bottles of water and a box of crackers. He twists the cap off of one of the bottles and hands it to me.

"Drink," he says.

I lift the bottle to my lips and take a slow sip. The water burns along my scratchy throat as I swallow it down.

I shift uncomfortably on the couch. My whole body is sore, and my back is badly bruised and scabbed over. It makes it nearly impossible to not think about what happened. I wish I could ignore it, but I can't because I hurt...everywhere. Sometimes when I move, I can feel the pain from his intrusion, and I want the throw up.

"What just happened?" he asks.

"I don't know. It felt like a nightmare, but I was awake," I say and take another drink.

Jase rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. Letting out a sigh, he says, "You scared the shit out me. I know you don't want to talk, but maybe..." He trails off as my phone rings.

"You have my phone?" I ask.

Standing up and walking to the kitchen bar, he says, "Yeah, the nurse at the hospital gave me your purse." He picks up my gold wristlet purse and hands it to me. I pull out my phone and swipe the screen to see that I have a few missed texts and a missed call from Kimber.

"Who was it?" Jase asks as he sits back down and starts opening the box of crackers.

"Kimber," I say, fiddling with my phone.

"You should call her, she's probably freaking out and wondering where you are," he says, as he eats a cracker.

"Maybe later." I set the phone down, lay my head back, and stare at the ceiling. I just want to hide here for a while longer. Maybe forever.

"She probably knows you're with me. She sent me a text earlier asking if I knew where you were. I figured you didn't want her to know just yet, so I didn't respond."

I let out a sigh, roll my head to the side, and look at Jase. I don't want Kimber to ask me any questions, but I know there is no way around that. One look at my face and she's going to flip. I can't hide all the cuts and bruises. I look like hell.

Jase holds a cracker up to my mouth and when I open it, he shoves the cracker in and gives me a smirk. Chewing it up, I turn my body and lie on my back with my head in his lap. I stare up at him and say, "I don't want anyone to know."

He looks down at me, starts brushing through my hair with his fingers, and says, "I know, but she's going to know that something happened. She's going to want to know how you got all these bruises."

"I don't know what to say."

"Why can't you tell her? You know she wouldn't say a word to anyone."

"I just can't. Even the way you look at me now is different." I sit up and turn to look at him. "It makes me feel weird. It just reminds me that it happened, when all I want to do is forget." I pull my knees up to my chest and lay my head on the back of the couch again.

Jase puts his hand on my knee and says, "You know you can't do that. It did happen."

The tears roll down my temples. "But why?" My voice is shaky as I speak. "I don't understand what I did that was so wrong."

Wiping away my tears with his thumb, he says, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why did this happen to me?" I turn my head and look into his eyes, desperate for answers I know he doesn't have.

He shakes his head, and his eyes start to rim with tears. "I don't know, sweetie. But I do know that you didn't do shit to deserve this. This isn't your fault."

"But maybe it is. I mean, I really led him on when I had no intentions of..."

Jase cuts me off me off and snaps, "You mean Jack did this?!"

My whole body turns cold. Oh shit! What is he going to do? I quickly sit up and turn towards him. "Jase, you can't say anything," I plead in a stern voice.

"Christ, Candace. I thought it was just some random asshole. Why didn't you tell the police? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I can't. Everyone would know. Everyone, including my parents."

Jase rakes his hand through his hair, and I can tell he is pissed, which upsets me. I don't want him to be mad at me.

"Fuck," he spits out. Looking at me, I can see the rage in his eyes, and I start to panic. "I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"Jase!"

"What the hell happened?" he demands.

"Don't."

"Candace, you have to tell me."

"Please, don't." Slowly shaking my head, I begin to cry. I'm scared. Scared to talk. Scared of what Jase might do. Scared that people will find out.

Jase stands up and walks out to the balcony, slamming the door shut behind him. I sit in his living room, alone in the silence. The sun is starting to rise and Jase is leaning on his arms against the railing. I know he is pissed at me, which kills me inside. I can't stand to see him so mad and upset. I get up and make my way to his bedroom, leaving my phone on the couch.

I must have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes the room is bright. I sit up and look down at Jase who is sleeping next to me. I slip out of bed and make my way to the kitchen to get some water. I look at the clock and see that it's almost nine in the morning. I'm not too worried about the classes I missed yesterday or the ones I will most likely miss today. It's only the first week, so I know that classes are no more than discussing expectations for the quarter. But I'm worried about the fact that I missed my studio yesterday. I haven't looked at my face yet, but hopefully the swelling and bruising has gone down enough that I can attempt to cover it with makeup.

I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water. I twist off the cap and down the whole thing in a few large gulps. My head is throbbing slightly, so I begin to make a pot of coffee when I hear Jase come out of the bathroom. Scooping the coffee grounds, I look up at him as he walks into the kitchen. I don't say anything because I am unsure of his mood. I hope he understands where I'm coming from and isn't still mad at me.

He walks straight to me and turns me to face him. Cupping my cheeks with his hands, he says, "I'm sorry."

I can't find any words, so I simply nod my head. I notice his eyes are puffy and bloodshot before he pulls me in to hug me. I wrap my arms tightly around him and squeeze. It hurts to know that he must have been crying when he was out on the balcony earlier this morning. I press my head against his chest, and we just stand there, clinging to each other.

I sit nervously in Jase's car as we drive to my house. After coffee this morning, we decided that I would stay at his place for a few days. I emailed all of my professors and told them that I had gotten sick and wouldn't be attending class for the rest of this week. None of them seemed to mind. Knowing that I have always been dedicated to my classes in the past, no one even questioned me, not even my dance instructors.

I let out a sigh of relief as we pull up to the house and see that Kimber's car is gone. Giving Jase a kiss on the cheek, I thank him before hopping out and walking over to my car. We agreed that he would go in and get my things in case Kimber showed up. As I slide into my car and turn the key, guilt begins to wash over me. I feel like I'm lying to Kimber by avoiding her, but Jase is the only one who knows, and I'd like to keep it that way.

I call Roxy while I drive back to Jase's apartment and tell her the same thing I told my professors. I ask if I could have a few days off, and she doesn't even hesitate. Lying to everyone feels horrible, but I just can't tell them the truth.

Pulling up to the apartment, I hear my phone chime. I pick it up and read Jase's text.

Got everything you asked for and more. On my way now.

Thank you so much. See you in a bit.

I am in the bathroom putting more ointment on my face when I hear Jase walk in. Wiping off my hands, I make my way into his bedroom where he is unzipping the bags that have my toiletries, clothes, textbooks, and dance gear.

Looking up at me, he says, "I grabbed more clothes than what you had asked me to."

"Thanks," I say as I walk over to the bed. I start unpacking, hanging up my clothes, putting my makeup and other toiletries in the bathroom, and throwing my books and dance things in his closet. Jase sits on the bed and watches me as I move around his room. When I turn and look at him over my shoulder, he has that look in his eyes. The look I can't stand. The look that reaffirms the fact that I need to keep this private.

"Stop," I say.

"What?"

I walk over and sit down next to him on the bed. "Stop looking at me like that."

Lowering his head to stare at the floor, he says, "You know Kimber is going to flip when she comes home and sees that a bunch of your things are gone."

"I know," I sigh out as I lie back on the bed and close my eyes. "What am I going to tell her?"

Lying back and turning his head to look at me, he says, "We'll figure it out."

As we lie here, staring at each other with no words, Jase holds my hand and laces his fingers through mine. This simple gesture comforts me in a way that only Jase can do. We have always been very affectionate with each other, but it has never felt weird. It was our natural chemistry from the moment we met our freshman year. And now, I feel like he is my only lifeline.

I lift up slightly and rest my head on his chest, and he wraps me in his arms. We decide, without spoken words, to remain in bed for the afternoon and nap. But just before I am about to doze off, I hear someone enter the apartment. Before I can sit up, Mark appears in the doorway of the bedroom.

I notice a shift in his eyes as he says, "Oh my God."

I think for a moment that maybe he is upset that I'm cuddling in bed with his boyfriend, but that thought is quickly replaced with anxiety when he asks, "What the hell happened to your face, honey?"

Shit! I quickly try to cover what he has clearly already seen with my hands. Turning to Jase, I see he is already sitting up next to me, looking at me with the same worry that I feel. Mark's eyes dart back and forth between Jase and I as we sit there, not knowing what to say because we never got around to discussing it.

"Um, hey. I'm sorry, but could you give us just a minute?" Jase asks.

Mark looks at me and then back at Jase before responding. "Yeah, man. Sure, I'll just be in the other room."

Mark turns and closes the door behind him, giving Jase and me some privacy.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," I say as I rake my fingers through my hair.

"What for?"

"I don't know, for having your boyfriend see us in bed together."

"Don't worry about it. I talk about you all the time. He knows how we are; it doesn't bother him," he says, reassuring me. He shifts his body to face me and continues, "Candace, I don't know what to do here. I just got back together with Mark, and I can't lie to him."

I stare at him for a long while. We sit there, looking into each other's eyes, and we don't say a word. I can't be selfish with Jase; I love him too much, and I know how happy he is to be with Mark again. But I can't help to be terrified out of my mind. I lower my head and look down before I hesitantly nod.

Lifting my chin with his finger, he says, "Mark would never say anything. He isn't like that, Candace."

I am so scared and begin to cry at the thought of anyone else knowing. Jase wipes my tears and leans his forehead against mine.

"Don't cry," he whispers.

"I'm so embarrassed."

Pulling me into his arms, he sighs, "I know you are, sweetie, but you shouldn't be."

He continues to hold me as my crying grows stronger. I bury my head in his neck and let it pour out of me as I feel him slowly rocking me back and forth. I don't know how long I've been crying when I feel the bed dip down next to me and another hand on my back. I know that it's Mark, and now I'm even more embarrassed that I can't even look up. So I just stay there, in Jase's arms, and cry.

As the tears start to slow and my body grows tired, Jase slowly pulls away. Fixing his eyes on mine with his eyebrows knitted together, I feel the bed shift again. I turn my head to see that Mark is kneeling beside the bed in front of me. I look down at him as he stares at me with nothing but concern. I'm no longer crying, but the tears keep falling, and I don't know how to stop them.

He takes my hand before speaking. "Who did this?"

It's pretty obvious that this didn't happen by some accident by the way I was just sobbing for what felt like an hour. I can't find any words though. I no longer feel the intense anxiety; I feel defeated. So, I just continue to stare at him.

Jase clears his throat before I hear him say, "Um...Candace was attacked Monday night."

Hearing those words knocks the air out of me, and I lower my elbows to my knees and hide my face in my hands. Jase never takes his hand off of my back, but I now feel two more hands on my legs.

"What happened?" Mark asks.

I hear Jase let out a long sigh, and I start shaking my head in my hands. I know he's about to say it. I'm scared to hear the words I know are coming any second. My body turns cold, and I tense up as I try desperately to hold onto the sob that is threatening to escape my chest.

Jase slides his hand up my back to my shoulder and squeezes tightly.

"She was raped."

I feel Mark's forehead fall to my knees, and the pain I was trying so hard to contain suddenly rips out of me, and I can do nothing but sob. My body begins to jerk when it becomes difficult to breathe.

The three of us sit there and cling to each other. How the hell did this become my life? I am not a weak person. I am strong and hold my emotions tight. I hardly recognize the weakness that is pouring out of me. Defeat. I am so tired and worn out. Exhausted.

I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands as I take in a slow shaky breath and let it out slowly. Looking up, I see Marks eyes staring into mine.

"I won't say anything, if you were worried about that."

I nod my head. "I'm so tired," I say, not knowing what else to say really.

"I told her she could stay here for a few days," Jase tells Mark. "She doesn't want anyone to know, and if Kimber saw her face, she would question her."

"I think that's a good idea," Mark responds, then looks at me and says, "I know we don't know each other that well, but I am here if you ever need me. I feel like I know you well by how much Jase speaks of you. The both of us are always here for you."

I nod my head and say, "Thanks."

We sit in the living room and eat a late lunch. After my embarrassing breakdown, Mark offered to go and pick up some Chinese food. While he was gone, I took another quick shower. I have been taking a lot of those in the past few days. There's something about the hot water against my skin. It makes me feel clean, but only for a short while.

"I've gotta get out of this apartment," I say as I pick up an egg roll and take a huge bite. With my emotions running on high and the lack of sleep, my hunger finally caught up with me.

"Okay. What did you have in mind?" Jase asks.

"I don't know. Some place quiet."

"Why don't we go to my house? Change of scenery," Mark says while twirling a fork full of lo-mein.

I look at Mark and say, "Perfect."

We sit there quietly and continue to eat our greasy food when I hear my phone ring. I walk over to the bar and see that it's Kimber calling. Suddenly nervous, I let it continue to ring until it goes to voicemail.

"Who's that?" Jase asks.

I turn around to look at him and answer, "Kimber." Before I can set the phone down, it chimes with a text from her.

I'm starting to wonder if you're mad at me. Where's your stuff?

I don't respond. Instead, I turn my phone off and leave it on the counter.

"The more you ignore her, the worse it's gonna get," Jase says, picking up his plate and walking into the kitchen.

I watch him as he starts to rinse off his dish in the sink. "Drop it, please. Can we just forget? Just for today?"

The truth is, I don't want to drop it just for today. Call me the Queen of Avoidance, but I hate dealing with issues head on. I get really anxious and nervous, so I tend to just ignore and let things slide. But I know this isn't going to just disappear. And Jase is right: the longer I wait, the worse it will be. I just don't have it in me right now.

After lunch, we hop into Mark's car and head over to his house, first stopping to pick up some beer at the store. I stay in the car with Mark while Jase goes in. I'm very self-conscious about the scratches on my face, so I'd rather avoid public places.

Mark lives right off campus in a small house. After the fiasco with his roommate and Jase, Mark kicked him out and got another roommate. Mark assured me he wouldn't be home though.

The patio in the backyard is surprisingly large, so we decide to relax outside and drink for the afternoon. I'm not in the mood to talk, so I just listen to Mark and Jase. I begin to tune them out as I start on my second beer. Sitting back in my chair with my eyes closed, I enjoy the heat of the sun on my face. I keep dozing in and out of a light sleep, and I can faintly hear the boys talking about Mark's band and how they just got a new gig to play this weekend at a local bar. I have never heard them play before, but they seem to be popular around UW.

"Hey, Candace?"

Squinting my eyes against the bright sun, I look over at Jase. "Kimber just texted me."

Closing my eyes again, I say, "We're pretending, remember?"

And with that, the subject is dropped.

The next few days pass in a bit of a haze. Jase has classes during the day but stops by to check on me when he can. I spend most of my time in bed trying to sleep. Nights are rough. Something about the darkness. I have been having nightmares—bad nightmares. Jack is constantly in my dreams, tormenting me. I wake up in a state of confusion, screaming and crying; often having to run to the bathroom to throw up. I know I'm freaking Jase out, but he stays calm and holds me while I cry until I fall into another fit of sleep. He suggested that I call my doctor to see about getting on a sleeping pill. I will do just about anything to get Jack out of my head to get some rest. I'm exhausted, and it shows in my eyes.

By Sunday, the scratches on my face are hardly noticeable, which is a relief because I have to work this evening. I decide to go to the studio since I know it will most likely be empty, and I can have the place to myself. I haven't danced all week, and I'm hoping that being back in the studio will make me feel a little more normal. Before I leave the apartment, I put on some makeup just in case I run into anyone. I am able to cover up the light scars on my face pretty well now that the ugly scabs are gone.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I pull into the studio's parking lot and see that it's empty. I head inside and proceed with my normal routine. Once my pointes are tied up and I'm stretched, I plug my iPod into the stereo system and decide against the barre for some much needed center work. I start going through various adagio and turn combinations. As I begin working the floor, I am relieved when my mind begins to emancipate, as it always does when I dance. All I think about is my turnout, posture, port de bras, and lines. Gliding through my movements and hearing the thuds of my pointes against the wooden floor are therapeutic in a way. I listen to the music that fills the room and move through several combinations that I know by heart and repeat them over and over. I don't want this serene feeling to end, so I keep repeating the combinations. I feel surprisingly flawless for being out this past week, and I continue making my way through the different combinations.

A crash of thunder quickly brings me out of my euphoric state. I walk to one of the windows and look up into the sky to see dark clouds rolling in. I decide to pack up and head back to Jase's before the storm hits. Taking off my pointes, I powder them and my feet before sliding them into my flip-flops. I sling my bag over my shoulder, run out, and hop into my car. When I turn the key, I look at the time on my dash and am shocked when I realize I've been dancing for over two hours. I don't know how the time slipped away so fast.

As I drive, reality slowly starts creeping back in, and the weight in my chest returns. The thunder continues to rumble, and I feel like the weather fits my mood perfectly. The clouds open, and the rain begins to crash down on my windshield. I turn my wipers on high, but I struggle to see the road ahead. I pull into one of the empty parking lots on campus to wait until the rain lightens up. While sitting in the car, I listen to the rain beating violently against the steel.

For some reason, I get the urge to get out of my car. I open the door and step out into the rain. Closing the door, I lean against the car, and within seconds, I'm drenched. The beating of the raindrops against my delicate skin feels good, almost painful in a way—but good. I lean my head back and feel the pellets as they strike my face. I enjoy the biting sensation. With my eyes closed, I just stand there, wishing I could live here, in this vacant lot, alone, focusing on nothing more than the stinging pleasure of the storm as it batters me. Knowing that this will soon end, that the sun is lingering behind the clouds and I will be faced with the hell that is my life, my body slides down the side of my car, and I sit in a puddle of water on the dirty ground and cry.