It is raining.
Not an annoying drizzle of rain, or a pelting, driving thunderstorm. The rain falls in sheets, hanging like a silvery curtain, encasing the world.
The first thing I notice is my height relevant to the tree I'm standing under. I can hear someone calling me, faintly at first, then louder. The voice sounds so familiar that I can almost place it, but not exactly.
"Justin? Justin! Juuuuustiiiiin? JUSTIN?! JUSTIN?!"
I can see a figure approaching me through the rain, running as fast as they possibly can by the looks of it. Tall and slim, the person has long hair flying out behing them, so I assume that it's a girl, although honestly, I really don't know. Not that I'm judgin or anything.
When they reach me, I can see that it is, in fact, a girl. A girl whose hair is plastered down onto her because it's so damp, a girl with a soaked red t-shirt and shorts, a girl who is barefoot, a girl who I know.
Hannah.
She stares at me for a moment, then laughs and says, "You've gotten taller, Justin." And I laugh, because yeah, I have. And God, I've missed her.
The sound of her voice, of her laugh, the way she talks, the way she walks, the smell of her hair. Everything. And now she's standing in front of me, in the rain, and I desperately want to kiss her.
"Yeah, I have," I say instead, brushing stray hair out of her face. Hannah grins at me, and I'm grinning too - like an idiot, but I can't help it. I am in love. Follishly, completely, utterly in love with this girl. And I don't know if she loves me back, but she has to. She has to, or I'm going to lose it.
"Justin? Are you alright?" she asks me. And I nod, and then I say, "I'm perfect. Because even though we're standing here in the pouring rain, getting completely and utterly soaked, it's WE. Not just ME anymore. There's someone else here, someone who understands, someone who doesn't need protecting - or someone who needs it even more. The point is, I"m not alone, and I never want to be again."
"You don't ever have to be," Hannah whispers, "because I'm right here. And I'm not leaving you again. Not for all the riches on earth. Not for all the treasure in the world, or all the death threats in the next. That doesn't matter. Right now, it's just us."
"I love you," I tell her, gazing at her face.
"Te amo," she says, and then she giggles at my confused expression and says, "I love you, too, you idiot." And then we kiss.
There's nothing soft or sweet or slow about this kiss, or any other sappy stuff you might hear in a love story. This is real. This kiss is desperate passion, blazing love, unsatisfied hunger that's been shoved awayfor so long but is finally being answered. This is everything I've ever wanted.
Her breath tastes like cinnamon and mint, and she's got her arms around my neck. I'm so happy, so blissfully content, so lost in the kiss and the moment and Hannah, that I don't realize there's someone else until I hear a gun being cocked.
Dr. Knight - the witch - is standing in front of us, with a pistol in her hand. She's in a lab coat, hair pulled back in a tight bun, thin wire spectacles on. Her lipstick is a shocking, garish red, the color of blood, and I think, How appropriate. It's obvious that one of us is going to die, and I'd rather it be me than Hannah.
"How cute," she coos sarcastically. "A kiss in the rain. Bit cliche, don't you think?"
"What the hell do you want?" I snap, tightening the arm I have around Hannah's waist and tensing my body, preparing to fling myself in front of her should Dr. Knight decide to shoot.
The smile vanishes and Dr. Knight's face becomes a cold, hard mask. "Fine then. With the pleasantries out of the way - "
"Nothing involving you is ever pleasant," I interrupt. "Now get on with it, woman!"
"As you wish," she says, and she lifts the gun to shoot.
I charge at her then, determined to knock the gun right out of her hands. But without me next to Hannah, there's nothing in Dr. Knight's way. She has a clear shot at Hannah.
The shot echoes through the rain, and I have to stop myself from screaming. I manage to land a good punch to the jaw, another in the eye - which shatters the spectacles and leaves shards of glass in the "doctor's" face - and a third straight to the solar plexus, which knocks the wind out of her. As soon as she regains her breath, she runs. I let her go and dart to Hannah.
Blood is pooling from a bullet wound in her chest, staining the silvery green grass red. She looks at me and tugs me down by my shirt collar, pulling me in and kissing me. Then she tells me she loves me and closes her eyes. With one final exhale, it's over. She's gone.
I lay her body down gently, making sure she looks like she's sleeping. And then I scream. I scream and cry and tear handfuls of grass out, clumps of grass and dirt and wet earth, and I fling them around. I punch the tree so many times my knuckles are split, bruised and bloody and covered with splinters. Then I lay my head on Hannah's stomach and cry some more. And it keeps raining, like the sky is mourning for Hannah with me. But there is no more beauty in the rain. There is no more beauty in anything except Hannah's face. And I can't bear to bring myself to look away.
I wake up at six A.M., like I always do, forced by the serum controlling my body. It makes me move around in short, jerky, robotic motions. And even as I strut around, as Dr. Knight controls my speech and reflexes and expression with her big joystick and her voice, in my mind I'm still in that rainy field, still under that tree. Still Normal-sized.
Still mourning the death of the only woman I could ever bring myself to love.
