Come in the Rain

I had always been in a constant state between alive and simply existing, feeling myself breathe but never forcing myself to take the next breath. There was absolutely no point to push myself farther then I needed to go. Things weren't getting any easier. Life wasn't handing me anymore great opportunities and my mother sure wasn't taking my feelings into consideration when she decided moving into a house with her controlling boyfriend and his anger problems was "what was best for this family" because we were "falling apart" and needed a "father figure to hang around." Great call, mom. I'm bruised, I'm psychologically scared, and quite frankly, I have become damaged goods. . . But that's okay, because you're happy, right? Your happiness always comes first.

The concrete sidewalk seemed to move so slowly beneath my feet. I wasn't in a rush to reach a destination. I was in a rush to get away, to get anywhere I could where I wouldn't be found. I was constantly searching for a safe haven.

I could see the trailer off in the distance, stretched out behind a few rows of trees at the end of the culdesac. It was rather isolated, very rarely grabbing the attention of passer-byers unless they knew it was there prior to their travels. I had found myself coming here quite often, running into the occasional drunk couple making out on the old, ratty couch or a drug addict shooting up in what used to be a bathroom, but I followed the unspoken rules and I always came out alive on the other side. Rule number one: Do not bother them and they will not bother you. Give them their space and privacy. Rule number two: Keep socializing to a minimum. We do not come out this way to speak and make friends.

I reached my hand out in front of me, grabbing the handle. It was dark inside, just as it was every other night. Grabbing my lighter from my pocket, I lit some near by candles and watched the flames dance before sitting on the couch, which reeked of marijuana, beer and sex. I fixated on the flame, occasionally jumping and burning brighter for a moment before dying down slightly. It had been the most stable thing around me. It followed a pattern, burning its way through the wick and leaving its memory in the melting wax. No matter what color, what scent, what maker, what model, they all followed the same pattern. They all burned down. I, on the other hand, was not one for consistency or stability.

I leaned back on the sofa, taking in the environment. The half crushed beer cans scattered across the busted tiles, covered in burns from dropped cigarettes and joints, the old sliding wooden door separating the remains of a bedroom and the supposed "living room" where the couch resided now laying on an angle across the floor and leaning on a nearby wall for support. I couldn't come to imagine how this place looked in the daylight. A few cans being kicked across the floor caught my attention. My eyes shot up, and through the darkness, a figure began to appear, sniffling and running his hand along the under side of his nose. He nodded toward me "Hey."

In an attempt to be polite, I nodded back. It was not an invitation but he seemed to think it was judging by the way he took the seat next to me. "I'm Michael." He stuck his hand out toward me, which seemed to have a certain shine to it. . . Probably from wiping whatever cocaine was left from under his nose. I looked at it, rejecting him with a turn of my head. "Not talkative?"

"Don't you know the rules!" I nearly yelled. His face seemed startled. I sighed. "Rule number two, socializing is a minimum. Rule number four, there is a no first name basis agreement. Although you seemed to damage that far beyond repair as it is." I pushed myself to my feet, heading toward the door. Somebody had to follow the rules and it obviously wasn't going to be him. The least I could do was respect privacy and leave. . . But he grabbed my arm and turned me around. "Let me go!" I yelled, yanking my arm back. I didn't realize how much larger he was then me until he stood in front of me. His eyes were glowing red in the dark. The drugs were kicking in.

"Just hangout. Have a little fun with me" His large hands grabbed a hold of my shoulders, pulling me closer to him in the already confined space we had been unfortunate enough to be in at the same time. I struggled under his grip, attempting to break free. "You won't regret it."

"Let go of me." My voice was stern. "Or else."

"or else wh-" I cut him off with a knee to his shin, causing him to release me quickly. I ran out the door and kept running until I had a clear view of a populated area. So much for my temporary safe haven. Thunder sounded in the distance. My house was a few blocks away, hopefully I could beat the rain storm.

I walked as quickly as my feet would let me, hoping to god Michael wasn't following behind me. He wasn't the first man under the influence that I have had to push away. . . Hopefully he would be the last.

A few drops of water met my skin. I cursed under my breath. Mother nature was not working in my favor tonight, the one night I actually needed her. It started out slow, a few drops splattering as they met the ground, but it sped up quickly. Puddles were forming at my feet, soaking the legs of my skinny jeans while I walked through them. "Mackenzie!" A voice called through the thunder. I could barely see in front of my. "Mackenzie!" I turned to road, a vehicle pulling up beside me with the window rolled down slightly. I shielded my eyes from the rain with my hand to make out the drivers face better.

"Who the hell are you?!" I yelled.

"Christian, we had English together last year. Get in the truck, I'll take you home, this weather is awful!" He replied, yelling over the sound of the down pour. I reviewed my options. I remembered Christian vaguely. We didn't socialize much because our clicks were on very different ends of the popularity scale.

"I can walk." I moved a few feet.

"You'll get sick, just get in the truck. I'll drive you home." He said matter-of-factly. He had a point, and as I always do, I caved. I pulled the door open and welcomed the heat pouring out of the vent. I pulled the seat belt across my chest but he seemed to be fixated on something else. "How did you manage to get a bruise on your cheek?"

I shook my head. "Just shut up and drive."