You've Become the Rain

Dear Ally,

I don’t know how to start this letter, or even what to say. So many words should be coming to me, but instead all I can do is sit and stare at this paper as images flood my mind.

Do you remember when you were six and you asked me if fairies were real? You had this look in your eyes that told me that my words could break your little heart, and I remember wondering what the hell I was going to do. All I knew was that looking down at you, with your big green eyes and a pout on your lips, you were the most innocent thing that I had ever seen. You believed in beauty, something that I had lost a long time ago. You believed in everything magical and that was something I could only long for.

All I knew was that I had to protect you. I knew that you were the most wonderful and precious thing in my life and that I had to protect you from everything in the world. I wanted you to see the beauty forever, because I had lost it. And without beauty the world’s a dark place, Al. It’s terrifying.

And I know that I’ve failed. I can’t protect you anymore, because I’m gone and I’ll never be coming back. And I’m sorry for that; god, you won’t believe just how sorry I am. I just… I couldn’t do it anymore. Your world was beautiful and mine was like hell.

I don’t ever want you to see it like that. I wish I could protect you forever, but please just know that I’ll always be there. Leaving you behind is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. You’re my little Princess, Alice, and you always will be. You were one of the only things I loved in this world and even though I’m gone I hope that you never forget that.

Please don’t cry, Alice. I know that you’re crying. You’re such a beautiful little girl and I know with everything in me that you’ll make it really far. You’re going to make so many people happy just be being there, and like you lit up my life I know that you’ll light up someone else’s. Just hold on to the beauty. Don’t ever let it go, because the minute you do… it’s like disappearing. And you’re too special for that, Ally.

I love you, and I’m sorry. And as I told you I loved you every day when I was here, know that I’ll be whispering it wherever I am forever more. I know that I haven’t been the best brother in the world and for that I’ll always be sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me for it in time as well as forgiving me for leaving you. It was never supposed to hurt you. I was never supposed to hurt you.

You’re beautiful, Ally. Don’t you ever forget that, okay?

Love,
Liam.



The wind brushed against my back as I walked, lifting up the strands of my scarlet hair and causing them to dance in the breeze. I dug my hands deeper into the pockets of my skirt, clenching them in fists to stop my thoughts from drifting to more somber topics. My eyes trailed out across the yard, taking in the eerie glow that the darkening sun imposed over the trees and bushes.

My feet slowly padded across the pebbled path, the rocks crunching under my feet. A shiver erupted through my body as I walked, my eyes floating from side to side, searching for the monument I was looking for. My legs seemed to have a mind of their own, taking their own route as they stepped past the trees and to the left of the graveyard.

All too quickly I was standing in front of his grave, staring down at it with heavy, lidded eyes that swirled with despair and withered love. The wind seemed suddenly colder as I stood there, and goosebumps erupted all over my skin, causing me to shiver and hug myself closer. Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I allowed my eyes to trail over the words scripted in the stone.

Liam Evans
1986-2005
Beloved son, brother and friend.
Lost but never forgotten.

I hated the words. I hated them more than I hated anything, more than I hated him for leaving me… more than I hated myself. Because they were wrong. He was forgotten. He was forgotten in hazes of alcohol and sex and despair, he had disappeared into the fog of death. Only I could see him. Just me.

The words ran through my mind, reminding me of a time when love had existed in our household. When Mum and Dad had loved each other, when they had loved me. It seemed that the moment we found his body lying on the floor, surrounded in blood was the moment that everything was lost. The tension in the air had sucked up what was left of our sanities, rendering us all incapable of feeling. With the blood that dribbled from his body went our love. All except for mine. I felt too much.

Standing there, I could remember the look in my mother’s eyes. The look of utter loss, as if her world had ended. It didn’t matter that I was there, or that I was mourning. Something snapped inside of her, and after that I never saw the loving look in her eyes again. Just the brokenness and the emptiness. It was as if her soul had been sucked from her body.

I could lie and say that I resented her – I could look at her with eyes painted with blackness and claim that she was the reason that I was lost. But I loved her. She couldn’t see me, but I loved her with everything. I loved her through her forgetting. I loved her through my disappearance. I loved her because the idea of hating her was too much to bear.

No matter how many times I stood beside his grave, my face eclipsed by the shade of trees above me, I never cried. Because his words ran out to me, loud and clear as though they were being uttered into my ear.Please don’t cry, Alice. I know that you’re crying. I wasn’t weak. I wouldn’t cry.

I didn’t have words to say to him as I stood there, because it was as though I could no longer feel him around me. And that thought terrified me, because standing there I had never felt more alone.

The sound of leaves crunching called me out of my trance and I turned around, my eyes trailing over to where the noise had come from. A pair of dark, hooded eyes met my own, and suddenly it was harder to breathe. I’d forgotten again, because his eyes were so dark and guarded and sad that I couldn’t remember how to suck the air in.

I’d never seen him before in my life. A cigarette hung out of his mouth as he stared at me, strands of chestnut brown hair clouding his cold eyes. Dark clothes hung off of his body, a black leather jacket wrapped around his shoulders. But his gaze wouldn’t let me go; it was clinging onto me as though I was hypnotized. A cold shiver ran through me and I blinked, dragging my eyes away.

Pulling my school bag over my shoulder, I allowed my dark hair to cloud my face as I turned around and began to walk away, my arms crossed over my chest to block out the cold. I could feel his gaze on me as I walked, and it took everything in me not to turn around and meet his eyes again.

That was the first time that I encountered the mystery that was Kennedy Bryant.



When I arrived home the sky was beginning to darken and the breeze was becoming fierce. My legs ached from walking and my mind was shaken by memories of the boy I had seen in the graveyard, and the way he had stared at me with those unwavering dark eyes.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I opened the front door and stepped into the house. “Mum? Olivia?” I called out, slipping my shoes off by the door and taking off my schoolbag. “Anybody home?”

There was no answer. In a way I relished being alone, because when I was alone I could pretend that everything was okay. I could pretend that they loved me without having the evidence of their coldness looking me straight in the eyes. I could forget that being alone in the house was no different than having it bubbling with my family. My mind could create a world in which I was loved. But reality screamed that I had long ago been forgotten.

Today was different. Today I couldn’t pretend. Today I was plagued with memories of his body and the smell of his blood, and those dark green eyes staring at me as though I was nothing. As though he couldn’t see me. Today I mourned because it had been five years exactly and they’d forgotten, as though it didn’t mean a damn thing to them. But my brother meant everything to me. I would never forget.

The silence seemed to ring eerily in my ears as I walked, the darkness hanging over my head like a cloud. Every step felt as though it ached, and every breath had me longing for the happiness I’d forgotten. The happiness I had to fake to the world each and every day as soon as I stepped out of the door and into the light. The happiness I had to fake to even my own family. And although I convinced myself each day that I was alive, the truth was that I had died along with my brother on that night all those years ago.

I walked into my room, shutting the door behind me although there was no need for me to hide. Walking over to my desk, I pulled the chair away and sat myself down on it, before pushing myself in and staring blankly at the wall. My room was an image of everything I wasn’t. It was covered in photos and posters, and the walls were a soft purple colour that seemed almost foreign to me. I didn’t feel at home in there, because my room represented everything I used to be. I wasn’t that girl anymore.

It was then that I noticed the note that was sitting on my desk. Like always it was written on yellow paper, folded over slightly and wrapped in a white ribbon. A small smile made its way onto my face as I gingerly picked the note up, untying the ribbon with shaking hands before carefully folding it over.

They love you, Al. Don’t you forget that.
~Liam

Once every few days I would find a letter on my desk, always written in the same way and addressed from my dead brother. And it didn’t matter that I knew it wasn’t possible, or that the words that were written seemed to always go against everything I knew. Because no matter when it was, or what it said, it made a smile flutter onto my face. A real one.

I hope so.
~Ally.