Poisoned Letters

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6

ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 14, 2005
RAYNE HART

Rain, rain, go away come again another day.

Why people hate rain is an enigma to me. It's so soft and delicate, cold and beautiful. The soft pitter-patter has such a unique sound that echoes through your body.

To others, rain is viewed as a hazard, something that prevents your from going outside, but why? Every aspect of rain is so fragile, it doesn't harm anyone. Blame the harsh wind and deadly lightning; people should fear those forces and neglect them.

Maybe that's the true meaning behind my name. Rayne. Such a worthy name for something you want to neglect and abandon, for something you want to disappear.

† † †

Thank God it's raining today, with it's pitter-patter helping me mull. It's especially loud today, distracting me from noticing the other noises being made in the dark alleyway I'm occupying.

I rummage through the pockets in my jacket for a crumpled piece of paper. My left hand grasps something dry and sharp, the paper. I take it out and quickly read it's contents before it's words become blurred by the rain.

"Red door 312 on right side of alleyway on Brighton Avenue at 11:45. Don't be late.

~Heath"

I stop walking, and exchange my glance to the right side of the alleyway, working my way up until I finally identify the red door. I make my way to it, and see the numbers 3-1- 2 plastered on it in gold. Next the the red door is a broken window covered in cobwebs. I make a step towards it, a loud crunching noise sounds as I step on the big and small pieces of glass laying on the hard grey concrete. I try to peer inside, brushing the cobwebs away as I do, and nothing. It seemed abandoned and cleared out, yet so unkept and disgusting. Typical Heath, making me meet him in the middle of nowhere where no body in their right mind would bother to come. I glance down at my watch, nothing fancy or expensive. I could barely afford it, but still I needed it if I could meet Heath with perfect timing. I swipe away the tiny raindrops that fell upon the watch's face and finally made out the time: 11:43. Two more minutes until I meet Heath, so he can tell me what this month's case is.

I don't see why I bother to meet his time criteria, he's usually 15 or 20 minutes late anyway, probably getting drunk at a bar or gambling with his millions of dollars. You'd think he's so rich that he'd raise my salary to something better than $250 per case I solve. From my point of view, it's only fair he raises my salary a couple thousand of dollars. After all I'm the one who actually does all of his dirty work, while he spoils himself. He's one of the only two investigators in our town, therefore he gets paid a lot by our citizens and the government of the bigger town several miles away who pities us so much that they provide and run our town too. An official from the government visits our town twice a year to see our situation.

It's difficult for me to get any job in our town, I can't even get something as simple as a grocery store clerk. That was until Heath found me. I could barely stand on my feet and resulted to crawling from starvation and dehydration. I was living off of scraps from the garbage and slept on cold hard benches on sidewalks because my mother abandoned me.

My father left her before I was born. Every month he would mail her enough money to last us for a month. She was greedy and didn't want to waste it on me, so when I turned 4 she brought me into town sometime at night. We walked to the far end of the town where barely anyone goes and where the shut-ins live. It was raining hard and I remember repeatedly asking her where we were going, my small hands grabbing and pulling on her skirt, she shoved me hard, and I nearly fell to the ground. I trailed after her as she walked to the front of a run-down town house, with a light flickering by the front door. She told me to sit down on the steps and wait. My young mind thought it was one of those road trips you go on with family, so of course I was eager and followed her directions, but that was it. After her last words, she walked away from the house as I called after her. Then she disappeared into the darkness, not returning. I sat on the cold cement step right in front of the long, wooden door behind me. When morning came the door finally opened, an old, tired women came out. She seemed friendly and when she spoke a hushed, gentle voice emerged. She graciously took me in. She lived with her daughter, who worked to pay for the both of them. They kept me for 11 years, until they said they could no longer pay for me and that I had to leave, so I did. For months, I didn't know how I would survive and fend for myself. For months, I starved and begged for water and shelter. For months, I felt alone and that I would die soon, then Heath came. It's because of Heath I have a shelter, I have food, I have water, I have plumbing. He provides for me, and all I have to do is do his job, investigate cases, find clues, interrogate people, and eventually solve the case.

† † †

I check my clock once more: 11:49.

A tall, shadowy figure makes it's way towards me. Heath.

"Well, you're earlier than usual," I remark.

No answer.

"What's wrong? Lost a bet?"

No answer, and the figure was only halfway down the alleyway, a good hearing distance.

"How much did you bet this time?"

Still no answer, and the figure was only a few feet away.

"Heath?"

This figure's face catches the moonlight quickly, but it was long enough to show me that it wasn't Heath. Before I can run the person, grabs my arm and pulls me back. My back slams into the person's chest, and I try to break free of his hold, but it wouldn't budge. I kick at the person hard and in return a low groan comes out. A cloth comes over my face, covering my mouth and nose.

Then darkness. No Heath. No light. No information.

Just darkness.