Kiss the Rain

Prologue

I listen to the sound of the rain as it hits against the roof and windows of the small Audi I'm seated in. Letting the sharp slap of the water against the small metal vehicle relax and sooth me into a dream like state. It's always something I enjoyed, especially as a toddler. My father would take all four of us (My mum, my younger brother and I) to a camp site for at least one week during summer and if I were lucky, it would rain at night and I would hear it against the roof of our tent. It would be one of the rare moments as a young child I would be at peace and stay still instead of running around crazy or talking non stop. Sitting here in the car with my parents and my brother I almost feel as if I were 7 again, lying in that small, dark blue tent of ours glancing up in wonder as the small droplets hit against its roof.

However the nostalgia is short lived. Hearing my brother Lewis screaming and crying snaps me out of my daydream. Turning to see what trouble he's caused this time, my eyes widen. What in the name of all that is holy has he done? There's a huge gash in his hand and the blood doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

Snapping my head to the front of the car I see my mum as she shakes her head, bringing her hands up to lightly caress her temples. I suppose she thinks this is another one of Lewis' immature pranks. I slide forward in my seat not turning to see the blood and avoiding leaning to close to him in case I was to breathe it in. I've never liked the smell of blood much less the sight of it.

"Mom, I really think you should look back here. Lewis' hand is bleeding and it won't stop. I honestly don't think it's a prank." As I move back to let her turn and look a gasp slips past her lips.

"Darren, we need to pull over! Or drive us to the nearest hospital; Lewis' hand really is hurt." I was barely able to make out that sentence with my brothers screaming increasing by the minute. Our father turns to cast a confused expression towards the back seats but seeing his wifes horrified look is enough for him to listen to her instructions and not ask any questions.

"Lewis, it's going to be alright but you have to tell me what happened to your hand. Did you cut yourself?" My mum speaks calmly; reassuring her son it'll be ok, while turning her self in her seat so she can reach him and smooth some wipes over his hand.

However, Lewis doesn't get the chance to explain.

Hearing my dad shouting from the front of the car, the three of us lift our eyes from Lewis' hand to cast questioning glances through the windshield and that's when I see the bright red exterior of a heavy goods truck for only a split second before my world is taken over by darkness.