The Tale of the Untamed Rain

I am always fascinated by the rain. It always gives me peace. It calms my nerves. It made all the things go mute, which gave me the liberty to smile and forget all my worries. The sound of cars, a chitchat from my neighbors, and my parents bickering like two madmen was now muted; the sound of rain as it slides along the roofs and houses with their rhythmic sounds and orchestra is all I can hear, and it's just what I need and only matters to me. Some may say that the sun is their favorite because it gives them a warm feeling —a feeling of home and sunshine. But if I were asked what my favorite weather is, it would be the rain. Rain is the shelter for those like me. A tired and lonely person who just wants a peaceful day away from that noise. I know that the world is cruel and messy, but I always wonder why, in a single moment in my life, I did not taste the sweetness of life. Pastel-colored scenery makes my eyes hurt; the bright and sunny days are blinding because I only hear the sounds of the loud drumming voice of my parents. I hate the music they made every morning and how they sang their hatred and anger-filled hearts—completely untuned and incapable of harmony. My being is burning with hatred and inextinguishable passion to strike them until no ashes will remain. Oh, I hate their guts. I hate every fiber of their being. I often wonder what I have done to deserve this kind of suffering. I detest this family. I wish I had never been born! The weight of this pain is unbearable; every time I want to break loose, I taste its bitterness, opening more wounds and afflicting pain in unhealed scars, dragging me down until there is nothing left in me but tears. On rainy days and in storms, only I can be myself. To weep, sob, and cry in this chaotic world. My pillows will have a rest after sharing my pain. I can scream my frustrations in the middle of the rain; in its dark clouds and unstoppable pouring, they can wash my tears. They can cry with me and make me feel like I'm not alone. Because I have them. The thing about rain and storms is that they have their ends. They have their own seasons and times when they are able to pour their contents. Sometimes they are longer than usual, and sometimes they are short visits. The magic it brought me will also disappear until it is completely forgotten. Like it didn't even happen. The noisy and chaotic world will play again, nobody can cover my ears, and darkness will dominate me. The pain is unbearable. I wanted it to stop. I want to experience peace. I want to rest badly, but even when I'm asleep, nightmares follow me. I hate how weak I am. “Stop it, Madeleine! What are you doing?” I was pulled towards reality when I heard the familiar voice. A voice that also gives me hope and reason to live, just like the rain muted my parents sounds. He looks at me like I'm fragile glass that will break anytime soon. He surveyed my body, and his glare sharpened like a knife when he saw the cuts I had etched into my skin. His grip tightened on the blade he took away from me. He looked at my face and slowly avoided my eyes. He hurried to my drawer to find a first-aid kit. When he found it, he approached me and held my arms slowly. He was so busy concentrating on what he was doing that he failed to notice how my lips curled and my eyes twinkled in delight. He slowly blows on my cuts, attempting to blow my pain away when the alcohol comes into contact with my wound. He doesn't know that these small cuts are nothing more than the cuts I feel inside me. A pain that is so deep that it can't be easily healed. He applied a band-aid to my wound after soaking it in alcohol to prevent infection. When he was finished, he approached me and hugged me, trying to squeeze all my burdens out of me. He did not ask what was wrong or say anything to console me. He just hugged me tight. He doesn't know how thankful I am for his presence. I am beyond grateful for giving me shelter in the middle of this cruel reality. I find peace in his presence; he is the manifestation of a safe haven —an abode in the middle of my abandoned life. Life may be cruel and chaotic, but because of him, I am able to live and endure the pain. He cupped my face and looked directly into my eyes. His eyes are full of worries and unspoken words. His eyes tell a story, and I can't bear to look because of the intensity of his gaze. “Madeleine, why do you avoid my eyes?” He asked; his voice is questioning. I know the hidden message about his tone. I know that when he asks this kind of question, he will truly squeeze a response from me. “Why would I avoid you? You're not my teacher," I answered calmly, but deep inside, my heart is racing like a marathon. His brows furrowed. Not buying my answer. For a moment, I thought he'd force me to answer him honestly, until I read a hesitation in his eyes. Until his hesitation completely disappeared, and his confused and cloudy eyes stared at me. I smile at how his actions and readable eyes seem to contradict each other. His composure is calm, but when I stare at his eyes, I can read it so well. Fortunately, he doesn't know about it. Because if he knows, I don't know if I can manage his confrontation. Indeed, I am weak and a coward.