Loving Rain (Watty Awards 2011)

Loving Rain

 Loving Rain - Prologue

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One, two, three.

I had my eyes closed. With each breath I took, I counted a number higher, making sure that air was at least getting into my lungs.

               Four. Five. Six.

               It was cold. I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

               Seven. Eight.

               A noise caused my eyelids to flutter, but with strong concentration, they were forced to stay closed. I made myself even smaller, willed myself to be invisible.

               Nine.

               A light burst into the room. I felt like it was burning my skin, because my eyes had gotten accustomed to the darkness.

               Ten.

               “It’s time,” said the voice. The deep, dark voice that I had heard so often in my nightmares. The voice that I knew belonged to the monster that had kept me here for so long. I held my breath and stopped counting, waiting for him to come closer. My muscles tensed, waiting for the blow that I knew he was going to deliver. But nothing happened.

               “I can’t hold you inside this room any longer,” the voice said weakly. “I feel like I might have already wasted too much time.” The voice sounded sad. That was unusual. My lungs screamed at me for the lack of oxygen, and I began to breathe again.

               Eleven.

               I finally let my eyes open, but it took awhile for them to adjust to the bright flame. I struggled to stand up. My legs were as wobbly and unsure as my heartbeat was.

                “Do you need help?” the voice asked me.

               A brief shake of my head answered the question. I could handle anything. In the past few months, I had gotten so tough that there wasn’t a chance anything could hurt me; that not even the monster with the cold, dark voice.

               Twelve.

               I could see now, but my eyes stayed trained to the ground. The rugged hem of my once beautiful dress was yellowed from dirt and time. It had been the only clothing I had for quite a while now. A moving shadow caught my attention, and I saw the blob take a few steps towards me.

               “You looked at me before,” the voice told me. “Why won’t you look at me anymore? Are you scared of me?”

               “No,” I replied, surprised by the small sound of my voice. I hadn’t talked in so long. “I’m not scared of you.”

               Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

               The voice hesitated before it spoke again. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

               “I’m not.” I said again. Just to prove it, I looked up at him, and I didn’t even flinch. “I haven’t been scared of you for awhile.”

               Sixteen. Seventeen.

               “Yet you still won’t look into my eyes.” The voice moved even closer. I could feel him breathe. “You might be surprised, you know. I’m not as much of a monster as you think I am. I just want to be here for you.”

               “Then why did you lock me up?” I retaliated, still not gazing into his eyes, because I knew what would await me there, in the pools of deep blue.

               Eighteen.

               “I had to test myself. I had to make sure I was ready to handle you,” the voice whispered.I thought I detected a small trace of something else, something hidden, in his voice.

                “Handle me? You are plenty strong enough to handle me.”

               “I am now,” said the voice. “But I wasn’t then.”

               I was struggling not to meet his eyes now. It kept getting harder.

               Nineteen.

               “It’s time, Rain,” the voice said again. “You know it.”

               Yes, I did. One more step towards the monster, and before I could tell myself to stop, I looked up into his eyes. In that instant, I remembered everything. The softness of his touch, the poetry of his words, and the sunshine of his smile flooded through my veins. There was peace in his eyes, the eyes that had looked into mine on so many different occasions. Not one thing was wrong with him; there wasn’t one little piece of him that was scary anymore.

               I fell into his arms, barely whispering, “I love you, Alan.”

               Twenty.